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As she returned from the basement with the boys’ hampers, the doorbell rang. Abandoning the dirty linen in the laundry room off the kitchen, she went to open it. If it was a bottle drive, she’d have to say no. She hated disappointing anyone, but Delilah’s soccer team had first claim to that revenue.
It wasn’t a bottle drive.
It was Cash.
He stood with his toes touching the threshold, so close that his body blocked her view of the driveway. A black leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders and a helmet hid his bright copper hair. He’d tipped the visor up, revealing gunmetal eyes.
“You gave me a Father’s Day card.” He unzipped his jacket, reached inside, and pulled out the blue envelope she’d given him yesterday. “A Father’s Day card. After how I acted.”
He sounded baffled and bemused and his head swayed from side to side like a bull expecting an attack.
“I bought it before then.” She winced. “What I mean is, you’re a father, no matter what. I was looking for one for the kids to give to Mark and thought I’d get one for you too.”
“I’ve never been given one.”
She’d assumed as much. Not that she blamed Elle—the girl had no idea who her father was until recently. She could blame Linda, though. It was hard not to judge the other woman when she saw how much Cash wanted a relationship with his daughter. It was important to remind herself that she only knew one side of the story.
Also, she suspected Cash hadn’t tried too hard to change her mind. He wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet. If he’d wanted to know Elle sooner, he could have forced the issue.
So why hadn’t he?
The rattle of a lawnmower starting reminded her they were still standing in the doorway. She stepped back. “Did you want to come in for a drink?”
“I have a different idea.” He tucked the envelope back inside his jacket, patting it as if ensuring it was safe. “Do you want to come for a ride?”
CASH HAD IGNORED PENTA’S instructions to wait to open the envelope and was so glad he had. It had taken him almost twenty-four hours to recuperate from the shock. Truth be told, he still wasn’t quite recovered.
She’d given him a Father’s Day card.
It was generic enough. On the front, an artistic rendering of a mountain landscape with a winding road twisting between tall trees was the background for the words To a Special Man. Inside, Happy Father’s Day was printed in plain text.
It was what Penta had written that made his heart squeeze painfully. He’d read it over and over, all evening long.
Cash,
Being a parent is hard. It’s impossible to understand how hard until you are one. Elle might be sixteen years old, but your relationship is like a newborn – fragile yet strong, untested yet indestructible. You’re going to make mistakes, and she’s going to break your heart in ways you can’t even imagine.
But it’s worth it. My children make me a better person. I wish the same for you.
Penta
For once, he’d been thankful to be alone. His tears had flowed, dripping into his beard, the taste of salt burning his mouth.
The last time he had cried was almost exactly sixteen years ago. Five months into his three-year sentence, a guard had come to the door of his cell.
“Got a message for you. It’s a girl.” He clomped away before Cash could catch his breath. Which had been for the best, because letting anyone in prison see you cry was a very bad thing.
Now he stood in Penta’s doorway, yearning to repay her belief in him. If she really wanted to be a bad girl—though he was certain her idea of bad was pretty tame—he would take her for a walk on the wild side. Well, wild-ish.
No way was he putting Penta in danger. Ever.
“I brought my spare helmet.” He jerked a thumb toward his bike, parked in the driveway. “I figured your kids would be with their dad, so was hoping you’d have time for a ride.”
“Where would we go?” She nibbled her lower lip, head canted to one side in the way she did when she was thinking hard.
“Wherever the bike takes us.” He had a destination in mind, but figured the mystery would play into Penta’s need to step out of her ordinary.
She looked over her shoulder, indecision clouding her face. “I was just putting in a load of laundry.”
