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“Who’s winning?” She nods to the baseball game I was ignoring.
“No idea,” I grunt back, sliding my arm around her shoulders and tugging her against my chest. Naomi makes a cute little rumbling noise of contentment, snuggling against me as she tucks her feet under her ass, nursing her coffee mug.
We watch in silence for a while until Naomi leans forward, setting her empty coffee mug on the low table.
“Do you buy that coffee because it reminds you of your mama?”
Naomi’s eyes snap to me, her lower lip wobbling. Shit. I didn’t mean to upset her. I only wanted to know.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice cracking. Double shit. Carefully removing her glasses and setting them on the coffee table beside her mug, I draw her against me and tuck her face against my chest, stroking my fingers through her hair as my nose nuzzles it.
“Do you miss her?”
She doesn’t speak this time, letting out a small squeak and nodding her head, her face still pressed against my T-shirt, warm tears soaking through the cotton. My arms tighten around her, cradling her as she sobs on my chest.
“I’m s-sorry,” she manages at last, her voice choked with tears.
“I’m not. If you need to cry, you cry.”
She does sobbing into my chest for almost ten minutes as I stroke her hair. I hate that she’s hurting, but this is kind of nice… in a weird way. Finally, Naomi sniffs and lifts her head, eyes and cheeks red.
Shoving her glasses on, she clears her throat and sits back against the couch, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them.
“Do you miss your parents?”
I blink in surprise and grin at her. “My mom still lives here in California. However, she traded the desert for the coast. I go and see her sometimes; she doesn’t come back here much.”
“And your dad?”
Shrugging, I sigh and stretch my arms behind my head, holding her gaze.
“He was a Hawk. He died when I was little.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Naomi shifts awkwardly, moving to pat my knee. I bite back a grin – it doesn’t seem appropriate after she just cried for so long over her Mama.
“I’m not. I don’t remember him, but from what everyone has told me, he was a major fucking cunt.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks stain red, and I let my grin break free. It’s so cute how prim and proper she can be. I’ve had her writhing and bucking against my tongue. She’s not always prim and proper.
“He was unfaithful to my mom.”
Naomi nods, looking sad. “Yeah. So was my dad. He bailed when we were little. I never really knew him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Peaches.” I am. She should have had a cherished upbringing, being treated like a princess. Not like Cinderella.
“I never missed him.”
“Yeah. Me either.”
We share a conspiratorial grin as she settles against my chest again, my arms closing around her.
“Oh! Your shirt is all wet! I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another one!”
My arms tighten around her as she attempts to stand. “I’m fine, Peaches. I want you to stay right here.”
“But your shirt….”
“It’ll dry.”
