Page 24 of Nixon’s Promise

“Most of the time, I feel like I’m failing them both. I haven’t seen Zack this happy since the accident. And I know it has everything to do with hanging out with you. And me and Mandy are struggling. I miss my family just as much as she does, but instead of leaning on each other, she just pulls away. Next week she’s seventeen. She doesn’t want to celebrate at all. I’m afraid she’s going to look back when she’s older and hate me more than she does now.”

McKenna’s forlorn tone made him feel like a complete ass. She had so much on her mind and all he was thinking about was fucking her.

“I’ve never been a sixteen-year-old girl. But I think what she’s going through has more to do with all the changes, and nothing to do with you not doing something right. You’re gonna have to roll with the tide. She lost her parents, her home, her friends. It’s a lot and she’s taking it out on the person closest to her. You’re a safe place for her to unload her frustration and hurt. She’s also in her junior year, in a new school, and unlike in the city, most of the kids have gone to school with each other since preschool. They have history and have formed bonds.”

“Mandy has friends, a lot of them. She’s out every weekend. And when she’s not out with them, she’s texting them non-stop.”

Nix didn’t know how to break it down gently so he just came out and said it. “Babe, I’m sure she does. But growin’ up here, I can tell you she’s still an outsider. And I’d bet she feels it.”

“Oh. That would make sense.” Nix hated how sad she looked. He couldn’t imagine having to take care of siblings after his father had died. He’d been a wreck, so emotionally fucked he wouldn’t have had it in him to console anyone, let alone two teenagers. McKenna amazed him—he knew she was hurting, too, but put the needs of her family above her own.

“You’ve sucked up the attitude for nine months. I think it’s time to gently remind her, that her life did not end, none of yours did, and it’s time to start healing. You should also remind her there is life after high school. Tell her that in five years from now she’ll be lucky if she still talks to one or two of the friends she has now. And in ten years, high school is a distant memory that’s full of embarrassing moments you wish you could erase.”

McKenna’s lips twitched before she smiled huge. Jesus, that smile would be his undoing. She was a sexy woman, but when she smiled, she was gorgeous.

“You’re a wise man, Nixon. And you’re right, about all of it.”

Why did her praise feel so good?

She was still holding the container of cookies, though they were now pressed against her belly and she was holding on to the plastic for dear life.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Nix reached out and took the treats from her white-knuckled-death grip and placed them on the counter. Then he did something he knew he shouldn’t have done, and grabbed her around her hips and hoisted her up onto the old Formica.

“What are you doing?” she huffed and placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

As if he’d let her fall. She wasn’t a tiny twig but she was still petite compared to Nixon.

“I don’t have a stool to offer you,” he answered and peeled the lid off the Tupperware.

At least a dozen, if not more, of his favorite cookies were piled up, and next to them were slices of the most delicious looking blueberry bread.

Nixon popped a cookie in his mouth and savored the taste. He couldn’t remember the last time he’s had a homemade dessert. Not having a mother, there were never baked goods around the house, his dad could barely cook an edible meal. None of his teammates were married, and the extent of his ex-wife’s expertise in the kitchen was calling in a takeout order. Food in a chow hall was not to be described as homemade, so that left Nix at a loss.

He chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “Damn, these are good.” He popped in a second cookie and stepped away from McKenna, taking his treasure trove with him.

Nix opened his fridge and, hoping against hope—even though he knew the odds were slim—he searched for milk. Not seeing any, or anything other than leftovers and beer, he sighed and pulled out last night’s pizza box.

“Wanna slice?” he offered.

“No, thank you. I already ate.”

Finding he liked McKenna’s fine ass planted on his counter, he hoped she wouldn’t jump down while he went to work heating up his pizza.

“What do you do, McKenna?”

“What do you mean?”

He looked over his shoulder at her—yeah, he really liked her sitting watching him.

“For work.”

“Oh. I’m a software engineer. I used to work for a company in Washington, DC. After living in Silver Springs for a few years and not liking anything about it I decided to quit and started freelancing. So, now I work from home. There are times I still need to go meet with a client in person, but most of the time I can telecommute.”

“What kind of software?”

“I think I’ve done it all. Web base applications, embedded software, development, debugging.” She shrugged her shoulders like her job wasn’t impressive. “I’ve designed software for architectural firms, point of sale, for schools, both large and small companies that need specialized applications. Right now, I’m working on a new security protocol. Or I should say, I’m trying to write a program that will breech the security protocol.”

“That’s—”