Page 17 of Peaches & Pistols

“I’m sorry you had to go out of your way for us this morning. I promise we won’t be an inconvenience moving forward.” Mia’s meek voice is barely audible over Everly’s excitement from the back seat

“No inconvenience,” I grumble.

The drive is uneventful. Everly and Mia share a comfort between them I can’t help but admire. Harper and I have a good relationship, but there’s something about a mother’s love I can’t replicate no matter how hard I try.

My mood sours the moment Vanessa crosses my mind and curdles when thoughts of Meredith follow. By the time we’re back at the ranch, I’m drowning in the poison of my memories.

I flip the truck around to back in like I always do. My right arm shoots out to hold the passenger headrest, to look over my shoulder while I reverse. Mia flinches away so violently, I rip my hand back from the headrest and slam on the brakes.

Heart pounding out of my chest, I look over to see her doubled over, shielding her head with her delicate arms.

My first instinct is to help her, but I don’t think it’d be well received. Instead, I turn around in my seat to check on Everly. She’s trying to unbuckle herself, unsuccessfully, unaware of what just transpired in the front seat.

Wasn’t planning on going in, but I can’t leave Mia like this. I hop out and help Everly with the last buckle. She leaps from my truck and bounds into the main house, in search of Harper, I'm sure.

I pause beside the rear passenger door, trying to collect myself. The only reason any human would react the way she did…makes me sick. It adds a layer of texture to the picture of Mia’s past my mind’s been painting, stroke by stroke.

She’s sitting tall in the passenger seat, staring straight out the windshield. I open her door and step well out of the way, hoping she feels safe enough to come out.

When she doesn’t unbuckle, I dip my head and force myself to walk up to the main house, hands balled into bone-cracking fists in my pockets.

Cecelia has the girls on the tall stools at the island, digging in to whatever baked creation she made while we were at the school.

“Daddy! Can I play with Everly all day?”

It wasn’t until seeing Harper light up around Everly that I realized how profoundly she lacks age-appropriate companionship. Outside of school, she’s surrounded by adults. It’s rare she asks for a playdate, and being an anti-social prick, it’s not like I’m setting them up for her.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer my little love.

Kids were never in my life plan, though I don’t regret Harper for a second.

Does she want a sibling? Should I have tried to get Vanessa to come back? Should I have put myself out there to find a suitable mother for Harper and grow our family?

Hypothetical questions do nothing but drive you crazy, and I mentally smack myself for allowing the ridiculous thoughts.

Placing a kiss to the top of my daughter’s head, I nod to Cecelia. “I’ll be back late afternoon. I’m closing the store early to get Mia and Everly situated.”

Her warm smile barely penetrates my icy exterior. I flip around to stalk out of the house and stop in my tracks.

Mia stands in the doorway to the kitchen, hands clasped in front of her, honey waves obscuring most of her face, watching our interaction like an outsider.

If I thought she’d meet my eyes, maybe I’d try to say goodbye. Instead, I side step past her and out the front door.

A heavy sigh escapes my tight lungs the second I’m enclosed in the truck cab.

It’s time to do some research on Mia Whitaker.

7

“Ihope it’s alright I did your washing, dear. Thought you might want to pack clean clothes and not have to fuss with it at Greyson’s apartment.”

Instead of instant gratitude, I’m flooded with embarrassment—heat rising from my chest to the part in my hair.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, unable to look at her and see pity written on her face.

“Greyson will be here any minute to pick you lovely ladies up…”

Cecelia’s words are drowned out by the mortification flooding my ears. What must they think of me? How am I supposed to face Greyson, let alone live with him? I nod and hope my inattention isn’t blatantly obvious.