Drowning to Breathe (16 page)

Kallie nodded. She held her hands up that were wrinkled and pruned. “All done.”

Chuckling, I leaned over and grabbed a towel from the rack then dunked my hand in the water to pull the plug.

Water swirled as it began to drain.

Kallie scrambled to standing, and I wrapped the towel around her and lifted her from under the arms, taking a shit-ton of bubbles with us. “Out you go.”

As I stood, I swung her around. Of course, it made her laugh hysterically, because the kid had to be the happiest thing I’d ever known.

I sat her on the counter, her feet in the sink, tiny body all wrapped up, arms free and tucked in close as she hunched her shoulders.

I stood right behind her to keep her from falling.

Water dripped from her hair, and I grabbed a second towel, figuring the disaster on her head was going to take more attention than anything else.

I began rubbing it through the mess of ringlet curls.

God, she smelled like strawberries and baby, and that protective place in me swelled.

It was the same place that worried incessantly about my little brother.

The same place I’d thought had long ago been filled to capacity.

Somehow broken and faulty, composed of guilt and regret. A distorted obligation.

But that place had transformed.

Expanded.

More, more, more.

I ran the towel through her hair again, gripping the mass and gently tugging her head back as I made a last pass. She peered up at me, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “There we are.”

I grabbed a brush and ran it through Kallie’s dampened hair.

I could feel eyes on me as I worked, this little girl’s attention trained on me through the mirror.

I glanced up at her, seeing the wonder there, something brewing in her eyes.

She brushed her teeth, then after helping her down, she ran to her room with the towel around her, the bottom dragging on the floor.

Pausing at the doorway, I listened to Shea’s voice traveling from her bedroom, carefree and airy. “No problem, Charlie,” she said, and I continued on toward Kallie’s room.

By the time I made it there, she’d already dug through her dresser and had pulled a nightgown over her head.

She hopped right into bed.

Chuckling, I crossed the room and sank down to my knees next to her. I helped her adjust the covers, and those shoulders lifted up to her cheeks. She released a timid giggle, her expression shifting back to the way she was watching me through the mirror.

One arm snaked out, and she tentatively ran the pads of tiny fingertips along the ink scrawled over my left forearm, my hard and scarred and tainted a stark contradiction to the purity of this kid, snowy flesh up against all my dark.

Her voice was a whisper. “I wanna have butterflies painted all over my arms just like Momma has on her side.”

Instantly, I was picturing this little girl grown. Eighteen or more. As beautiful as her mom. Tattoos swirling in bright, distinct patterns down her arms. Another flash with skin unmarred.

A piece inside me broke at the same time as it lifted.

Would I get to be around for that? To witness who this incredible kid became?

“Just like you, Baz.” She said it in that sweet voice, mouth pulling at every direction, her smile so fucking overpowering I was nothing but a puddle in the middle of her floor. “I want lots and lots.”

A rough chuckle rumbled from me, and I tugged at one of those unruly curls. “What do you think your mommy would think about that?”

“Momma likes yours.”

Another chuckle, this one deeper. She sure as hell seemed to.

“Can I get one right now?”

“Uh…no.” I tried to contain my amusement. “You have to wait until you’re big. Like your mom.”

“What if I asked her pretty please?”

“Pretty sure that’d still be a big huge no.” Didn’t need to get into the fact it wasn’t even an option.

“How about if you were my daddy? Would you let me?”

I fucking froze, my mouth going dry.

I swallowed around the rock at the base of my throat when I finally caught up.

Had seen those wheels turning in her head, kid as clever as they came as she hedged a subject we’d been skating along for weeks.

God, I was treading on thin ice. Walking a fine line.

Knew I was about five seconds from a fall.

I cautioned my response. “If I were your daddy, then I’d tell you no, too, because little girls aren’t allowed to get tattoos. And then when you got big, I’d encourage you to do whatever makes you happy, as long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else. As long as it’s good, just like you.”

Cheeks going red, she grinned wide, gripping the covers and holding them at her chin. “I think I would like that.”

“What would you like?”

“If you were my daddy.”

My heart lurched. And I tripped.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Going under.

Sinking deeper.

I felt the presence behind me. The billow of her storm. A fierce squall of energy pressed into the room. Drawn, I looked over my shoulder. Our eyes met, a thousand words passing in a glance. A vision of a future I’d spend my life working to deserve.

Shea lifted her chin, giving me the go. Passing on her unconditional support and belief.
In me
. The answer I gave was entirely my choice.

But there was no missing the intensity behind her consent. The vehement zeal she protected her daughter with.

If I was in, then I was all in.

This wasn’t a fucking game and there would be no turning back.

Slowly, I swiveled my attention back to the little girl who’d changed everything.

Kallie just grinned more, like it was the most natural thing in the world and she hadn’t just shifted the axis of mine.

But that was the thing. It was natural. Meant to be. Because even though the words hadn’t been said, we’d been heading this direction all along.

When I’d started my pursuit, this was the road I was getting led down, even though at the time I’d no clue of the destination.

Because Shea didn’t have time for distractions or diversions.

Both of them deserved it all. Something solid. Permanent.

A tremble rolled through me, because I still had so much shit. So many demons, regrets, and consequences yet to be paid.

But just like me, Shea was all in.

She already knew the deal.

What I was up against and where I could go.

And by the grace of God she was willing to stand by me through it all.

The words came raspy as they passed from my mouth. “I think I would like that, too.”

A MISTY GLOW DRAPED
the enormous room. Bodies were packed wall to wall in the carefree atmosphere. For years,
Charlie’s
had been a staple in Savannah. A place people converged to cast away their worries and concerns. To let go and feel free. Unfettered by the day’s tribulations. The entire city seemed to flock here for a reprieve. They let themselves go within these old, rustic walls that always seemed to hold a million secrets. Like the old wood echoed with them, keeping them safe and protected.

Sebastian’s and my secret had begun here.

An unrelenting attraction that had grown into something magnificent.

I felt the smile edge my mouth, and I tried to focus on my job rather than the man who refused to leave my mind.

A week had passed since I’d returned to my normal schedule here at
Charlie’s
where I worked nights so I could be with Kallie during the day.

But our lives hadn’t come close to returning to
normal
, and our days were the furthest from being ordinary or mundane. The familiar pattern I’d grown so accustomed to—one of Kallie and I surviving alone—had been eradicated. Replaced with a passion that threatened to consume me. To burn me alive with the vibrancy and intensity.

Chewing at my bottom lip, I pushed those thoughts aside and delivered drinks to a booth close to the stage. The three guys sitting there were all business, suit jackets removed, sleeves of their button-ups rolled up casually as they relaxed at the end of the day.

Two bands were scheduled to play tonight, and we were on a break between the two. Our sound guy, Derrick, was playing one of those new upbeat country songs, and it blared from the speakers.

People swarmed the dance floor at the base of the stage, couples gliding into a two-step, getting lost in the easy vibe.

I delivered drinks to a couple more tables, then stopped to take the order of a group of five barely legal girls who’d just made their way in and grabbed an open table in my section. All of them were out to celebrate the youngest girl’s twenty-first birthday. Dressed in next to nothing, clearly begging for attention, overdone hair and makeup, bare skin for miles.

I only knew it was the youngest’s birthday considering I’d double-checked her ID about five times because she looked like she couldn’t be a day older than fifteen.

Each of them ordered a frilly drink. They were giggling and whispering as if they were in middle school, and I shot them a quick grin. Even if I couldn’t relate, I was never one to judge anyone for their fun. I jotted down their order and said, “I’ll be right back with those.”

I shouldered back through the throng gathered around the high-top tables set up in the open space in front of the dance floor, and worked my way back to the ornate bar floating like an oasis in the center of
Charlie’s
.

My uncle Charlie stood behind it.

His never-ending smile peeked through his ratty beard and my heart throbbed in appreciation. He was mixing drinks in shakers while chatting with an old man who appeared to be doing a stand-up job of drowning his sorrows. Knowing Charlie, he was giving it his all to build the poor guy up.

That was the thing about Charlie.

He was one of the
good
guys.

Everything he did was for the benefit of someone else.

He caught me grinning as I approached and tossed me a wink. “Hey there, Shea Bear. You doing okay? Looks like we have some wild ones out there tonight.”

Tamar sidled up beside him, long hair the most vibrant kind of red. Her lips were dyed even redder, and she quirked them up in a sexy grin as she snatched the bottle of vodka from Charlie’s hand. “Pssh. You don’t know wild, old man.”

Laughter trickled from me, and I shook my head as I slid the napkin where I’d written the five girls’ drinks on across the bar.

“What, is Savannah getting too boring for your L.A. blood?” I teased her, lifting a brow at my friend who stood out in this bar just about as bad as Sebastian had the first time I’d seen him hidden in his corner booth.

“Never,” she shot back with a smile. “I like
boring
just fine. Why do you think I’ve stuck around so long?”

“Uh…pretty sure that’d be because of me, darlin’,” Charlie supplied, stretching his arms out like he was the obvious gift of living in Savannah.

No doubt, he was a bonus.

He’d been taking care of Tamar and me since we’d walked through
Charlie’s
doors years ago, each of us escaping here for our own reasons. I’d been running home and Tamar had been running
from
home.

An ironic expression slid across Tamar’s face as she poured the vodka across three shot glasses. “Now who’s full of himself?”

Charlie had been giving Tamar crap about being full of herself since she started working here. Neither of us had ever seen her not completely put together, not a piece of hair out of place, makeup thick yet flawless, clothes just like she’d stepped out of one of those motorcycle magazines, tattooed skin for days.

She was a force.

Unwilling to allow anyone to mess with her.

I had my suspicions she’d been messed with enough.

But she was the kind of force to be welcomed, the girl proud yet profoundly loyal.

Charlie’s expression turned sly. “Just tellin’ it like it is, sweetheart. And for the record, my bar isn’t anything close to boring.”

With a laugh, I shook my head.

Cocky old man.

His smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. “But for real, how’s it goin’ out there, Bear? You doing okay tonight?”

The smile I gave him was soft and appreciative, and it only just hinted at an eye-roll because my burly, softy of an uncle had taken all that fatherly concern he typically watched me with to a striking new level.

But I completely understood it. His concern wasn’t just for me. He was worried about Kallie’s welfare, just as much as the rest of us. He was thinking of her future and the threat of what may come to pass.

Martin Jennings’s resurgence lurked like cobwebs in the corners of my mind.

Weeks had passed without a word. It left me in a state of disquiet. Constantly on guard. But I refused to give my life to a worry that for the time I couldn’t control.

I would relish in this moment’s harmony and savor the love I’d been given.

No, I was no fool. There was so much to worry about, concern flying at us from every direction. But that was another thing my grandmother had taught me.

You take what you’re given and make the very best of it. Live life to the fullest even when it might feel empty. Live like there are no barriers when there are walls towering in front of you. Be prepared to fight, even in times of peace. And be willing to live in peace when there are wars raging all around you.