He’d just gotten Shayna back into the playpen when Pixie spoke behind him.
“Andy’s asleep.”
He straightened. “Shayna too.” Was it his imagination, ordid Pixie suddenly look shy? Brogan hoped she didn’t expect him to make a move; that wasn’t why he’d wanted to stay.
Whatever she was thinking, it set his own thoughts on a racing course down the wrong path. Babies, he reminded himself. If he could just keep focusing on the kids, then he could put aside the fact that he was here, virtually alone with Pixie in the quiet of the evening.
For starters, he appeased his curiosity by asking, “Is Pixie your given name? It’s pretty, but unusual.”
A smile teased over her lips seconds before she turned and headed to the couch. “My legal name is Joanna.” She sat in the corner, one leg tucked beneath her, and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. “My father used to call me Jo, but when I went to live with Aunt Mary, she called me Pixie because I’m small.” With a lift of one shoulder, she added, “Guess it stuck. Aunt Mary passed on when I was seventeen, and for all that time, I’d been Pixie. Now it’s how I think of myself.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you were living with her?”
Her smile twitched again. “It’s funny because no one had ever asked me about it. Then I met Marlow, and she wanted to know everything. Now there’s you.”
Now there’s me.Maybe he should retract his interest—but he didn’t want to. “You don’t mind talking about it, then?”
“Not really. It’s all so far in my past, it doesn’t hurt me or anything. See, my mother lost custody because she was an addict. I don’t know if she tried to kick the habit, but she never did. So when I was five, my dad had me. But he had a drinking problem. Most of the time, it wasn’t too bad. I mean, he could still work, and he usually stayed out of trouble. Then when I was ten, he was at a bar and got into a knife fight.”
Though it seemed Pixie took her past in stride, Brogan was appalled and infuriated on her behalf.
“After that, he had a few … mishaps.” She slid her fingers beneath her hair at the side of her head. “Everything changed when he threw his keys and accidentally hit me when I was ten.He didn’t mean to, but since he was drunk, his aim was off. I think they were supposed to hit the wall.”
His heart lurched. Before he thought better of it, his fingers had gently tunneled into her hair until he felt the ridge of the scar left behind. Carefully, he traced the two-inch length. That had to have been one hell of a gash for a ten-year-old.
The idea of her as a little girl, being put through something like that, made his lungs burn. He drew back, but only far enough to curve his large hand around the side of her face. His thumb brushed over her jaw, her skin soft and warm. “That had to hurt.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she rushed to tell him. “If he could have treated it at home, he would have. Unfortunately, I needed stitches, and everyone at the hospital could tell he was drunk. One thing led to another, and my aunt Mary stepped in to take emergency custody.”
How scary would that have been?
“For the longest time after Aunt Mary took me home, I thought my dad would come for me.”
“But he never did?”
“No. At first, it worried me. But after a while, I liked Aunt Mary so much, and life was so calm, that I started to worry he would come.”
“Did you ever see him after that?”
She shook her head. “When Aunt Mary got permanent custody, Mom and Dad just disappeared from my life. My aunt was wonderful, though, so all in all, I didn’t miss them.”
They had that in common. He knew he’d never let Brian or Ruth be a part of Shayna’s life, not unless something drastically changed. Not unless the old man mellowed or Ruth located her heart.
Pixie watched him warily before saying, “Sorry. I know it’s not a fun story, but to me it wasn’t all that tragic, either. It was just life.”
The only life she’d known. “You need to stop apologizingwhen it isn’t necessary. I’m glad you shared with me. It’s hard to think of such a young girl being bounced around like that, but you’re clearly healthy and happy now. I guess it bothers me even more than it should because I think of Shayna, what her life should be, what I want for her, and …”
“She has you,” Pixie said with conviction. “She’ll be loved and cared for.”
Time to move the spotlight off him. “So because you were Pixie during those happier times, you’ve kept the name.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that. To me, it was just what I was called. Like if you name a kid Theodore and call him Teddy. I got teased in school occasionally, but nothing especially mean. I knew I was short—”
“And petite.”
She grinned. “I wasn’t offended by most of the jokes.”
Her cavalier attitude took the edge off his anger, but he couldn’t dismiss the fact that her parents had abandoned her. Unlike him, she wasn’t a big strong kid, tough inside and out. Pixie was something else. Soft, gentle, and caring. Strong, yes, but also vulnerable.
