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Each time I’d see his smiling face, that band that was a constant pressure around my heart would loosen just a little bit more.
I was home.
Hopefully for good.
I got out of the car and walked around to Beckham’s side to open the door for her.
When she was up and out, I moved to the seat behind her and pulled the baby’s car seat out. Getting it out was much easier than putting it in, that was for sure.
The moment that I straightened up, I glanced toward the front door to see a very stoic looking man standing there with his arms crossed across his chest.
“Who’s that?” Beckham asked as she threaded her hand into mine.
The familiar feeling was enough to make me take another deep breath before starting to walk toward the door.
“No fuckin’ clue,” I admitted. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She followed behind me, her steps much more hesitant than mine.
I stopped and turned to survey her.
“Are you okay with doing this?” I asked. “That’s why I was going to come alone.”
Beckham still didn’t do well with men she didn’t know. Even worse was watching her get around the guards when she came around me in prison. I wished like hell she would’ve stayed away, just so I didn’t have to see her so scared. But then the other part of me was happy as fuck that she fought through her fear so that I could remember those moments with them—my wife and my son—over the course of my stay in prison.
“I’ll make it,” she murmured. “Just don’t… walk off. Or leave me. Okay?”
I squeezed her hand in acknowledgment and once again started to walk toward the door.
Damn, my girl was brave.
I knew that she’d been coping the best way she knew how. I also knew that she still suffered from nightmares and panic attacks despite not telling me about them.
I could see the fatigue and fear written all over her face when she came to visit me.
I was so fucking glad that I was out of there.
When I next looked up, the man that’d been at the door was no longer there, and I wondered if it was because he’d got tired of waiting, or if he’d understood that Beckham needed a few moments.
Whatever the reason, I was glad that he was gone, if not for just the fact that my girl could now save face.
“Let’s go,” I urged.
She walked with me up to the front door, and I used the big ass knocker on the door to knock.
The same man that’d been standing at the front door opened it.
Then, he was elbowed out of the way by a little goth girl.
Well, girl was a relative term.
Woman was more like it.
She had bright blonde hair, platinum if my wording was correct, with purple highlights starting at her roots and fanning down.
She had on enough makeup that you could tell she was wearing it, but not enough that it was overwhelming.
And her eyes were purple.
Like really fuckin’ purple.
They had to be fake. There was no way that there were irises that color.
“Hello.” The goth chick smiled, displaying a row of straight white teeth. “I’m Six. You’re Beckham and Trouper?”
Beckham blew out a relieved breath. “I am.” She paused and looked up at me. “We are.”
I squeezed her hand that I’d never let go of and then pulled her more fully into the curve of my arm. The movement jostled the car seat and caused Hiro to squeak in annoyance, then settle back down.
Beckham’s boob juice was intoxicating, apparently.
I’d seen it quite a few times now, and it was still just as entertaining when he was four months old as when he was a day old.
“Ohhh,” Six breathed. “I can’t fuckin’…” She paused. “Shit, I should really watch my mouth around the baby. He’s adorable. That hair.”
Beckham giggled. “He has Trouper’s hair. I fell in love with that hair when he was seventeen.”
And those words ‘that hair’ won Six, Beckham’s loyalty forever.
I didn’t know what it was about the hair that she loved, but she did. She was overly fond of my longer locks, which Hiro just so happened to have.
“You know,” the man at Six’s side said. “You could let them in instead of being all uncouth and making them stand at the door.”
“Come in, come in,” she urged as she stepped back, opening the door wide and turned to the man at her side. “And Bruno, when did you learn the word ‘uncouth?’ Was it your word of the day on your calendar? I’ll bet you’re so proud to be able to use those. Did they use it in a sentence for you, too?”
My lips twitched.
I liked this girl.
When I glanced down at Beckham, I could tell that Beckham liked her, too.
“Children,” another man said from the living room couch. He had a kitten in his lap and a dog at his side. “Must you fight all the time? It was cute at first, but now it’s just getting old.”
