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The way her shoulders sagged let me know it wasn’t exactly what the woman wanted to hear, but she nodded. “I have to go meet my daughter, but I can take Kadey with me for a few hours.”
The kid gripped me tighter, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I stay with you,” she announced loudly, her bottom lip extending.
“She’ll be fine here with me,” I agreed, silence settling between us as the old lady eyed me from head to toe, making me feel like I should’ve put a damn shirt on, but also having me wondering if I was going to have to fight some old lady with a cane just so she’d let the kid stay here.
She tugged her handbag higher on her shoulder. “I’ll check in when I get back after lunch,” she conceded, but just when I thought that was it, she added, “You don’t want to know what will happen if you do anything to hurt these two girls. I may look old and fragile, but I know people.”
Any kind of response was lost on my tongue, not that she allowed me time to fucking find one as she turned and walked away, shuffling down to the elevator without looking back.
“Well, she’s fucking scary.” Kadey giggled, wriggling her body until I put her down on her feet. She rushed inside, dumping her little bag at the door and making a beeline for her mom’s room. “Woah there, kiddo. Freeze!”
She stopped. Her arms paused mid-run.
“You need to let Mama rest,” I told her, scooping her up under one arm and depositing her on one of the tall stools at the kitchen counter. “You had breakfast?”
“Nope.”
“You want some?”
“Yup.”
I fished some cereal out of the cupboard and the last few drops of milk from the fridge, placing them down in front of her before stepping into the living room and switching on the television.
“Simpsons,” she crowed loudly at the bright cartoon.
“Your mama lets you watchThe Simpsons?” I questioned with a raised brow, wondering whether I should change it. What the fuck did I know about what was appropriate for children and what wasn’t? Kids weren’t exactly my forte. I didn’t do well with whining or tantrums, though Kadey seemed different.
The kid nodded enthusiastically and instantly shoved the biggest scoop of Frosted Flakes into her mouth. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get the spoon stuck in there.”
She proved me wrong a few seconds later when it popped right back out, along with half the mouthful of cereal.
I covered my mouth, trying to keep my laughter inside so I wouldn’t wake Missy. The doc had given her a fucking strong sedative last night—at my request—given I knew if she wasn’t forced to get some sleep, she’d probably be up and about doing God knows what today.
“Why is Mama sleeping?” Kadey asked as if reading my mind.
I leaned back against the counter, folding my arms across my chest and trying to figure out how much I should tell her. Her bright blue eyes watched me as she pushed the cereal in her bowl around and around. There was a lot of intelligence behind those eyes.
It felt like the second I tried to lie, she’d know.
“Mama’s leg got hurt last night, and she needs to rest so it can get better.”
Her little face changed instantly, and it was like the light behind her eyes had been switched off. She just stared straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was processing in her little mind. “Did Daddy hurt her?”
Well, it definitely wasn’t that.
I tried to keep my face from changing, fighting to keep the tone of my voice natural. “No, it wasn’t Daddy.” She nodded, satisfied with my answer and immediately directed her attention back to her food, loading another heaped spoonful into her tiny mouth.
The hell did you say to that?
Her mom gets hurt, and her instant reaction is to question whether it was her dad?
“Does Daddy hurt Mama often?”
She didn’t falter or even stop to think about her answer. “He’s mean and hurts her feelings. It makes her cry,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I say… ‘Daddy, don’t be mean.’”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, relaxing the tension in my shoulders. “You do, huh?”
Her little head bobbed up and down, her face full of pride. And as it fucking should be, standing up for her mom at four years old. This little girl was something else, just like her mother, and I could already feel the attachment growing. The protective nature that burned so hot within me wanted to wrap her in its warmth.
