Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,32

the man rambled. “Thought they were gonna run you plumb over. Damn tourists. Probably partied all night, got liquored up, and decided to use our neighborhood as a playground. No one’s got any respect no more…not for property or human life.”

I barely nodded, fully agreeing with him and feeling awful that I wished in this instance his speculations were right.

That it was someone out for a joyride.

Swallowing the horror, I attempted a smile that was nothing more than a tremble of my lips. “It’s okay. I don’t think they saw me until the last minute. I should have been paying attention. Shouldn’t have had my music playing so loud. I didn’t even hear them until they were right there.”

I did my best to convince the guy that it was no big deal.

That it was my fault.

It wasn’t.

It wasn’t my fault.

For so many years, I’d questioned if it had been. If I’d done something wrong. Said something that invited it.

I’d let my mind toil with I should have done this, or I shouldn’t have said that.

I knew better now.

It didn’t matter what I’d said or done.

It wasn’t my fault.

But the guilty always wanted to make the innocent pay.

Not this time.

My paranoia and fear would no longer rule, and I was going to do this, no matter what it took.

I was determined to take back a little of what was owed.

To make a difference.

To make a change.

Even if it cost me my life.

Eight

Rhys

“You are my sunshine…my only sunshine! You makes me happy, when skies is gray…”

Daisy belted out the song where she sat on a stool coloring with markers on blank pieces of white paper at the island.

Pouring myself a fat cup of coffee, I joined in on the next line, singing it loud and raucous…because how could I not?

Not when the little thing grinned and giggled and mashed up my heart all over again.

I actually croaked over one of the words.

So what if I wasn’t feeling top-notch this morning.

I could blame it on the bottle of Jager I’d drowned myself in. Or maybe I could pin it on the anger and the fear I’d felt when I’d gotten that fuckin’ picture of my mama last night that was nothing but blackmail and bribery.

A knife stabbed straight into my greatest regret, that motherfucker giving it a good, hard twist.

But I knew the disorder I felt right then was a direct result of the girl who was toyin’ with my logic and rationale.

She was a storm currently wagin’ war on my insides.

It was rare that my head, spirit, and dick were at odds.

Usually, we were a one-track mind.

Get in. Get out. Get gone.

And that girl had me itching for all kinds of irresponsible, delusional things.

Daisy shook her head like she felt sorry for me, breaking me from the thoughts, the child still coloring away when she said, “You sings it so bad, Uncles Rhys. You ain’t got the pipes like my auntie Ems and my daddy and me.”

Overdramatic, I smacked a hand onto my chest. “Now how could you go and be so cruel, oh, young one? Five years old, and already breakin’ hearts.”

Daisy ho-hummed and sighed. “I gotta tell the truth because the lies are bad. And I’m almost six. Get it straight.”

“Well, okay then, almost six-year-old sassy pants.”

Emily shuffled into the kitchen, looking like she was lacking about a week’s sleep, hair a disaster and bags under her eyes. She hip-checked me to get me out of the way of the coffee pot. “Scoot.”

I hopped out of her way. “Well, good morning to you, too. Sheesh. I’m surrounded by nothin’ but a bunch of bossy pants and sassy pants. Way to hold a good man down.”

“No way. I’ll hold you up, Uncle Rhys’ Pieces!”

“Oh, and how are you gonna do that…build me an altar on all those truths?” I teased.

Daisy gave me a resolute nod. “Yup. And I gots the most important truth—all the amor, amor, amor, and I gots lots and lots of it for you.”

Damn.

There went my mangled heart.

Setting my coffee on the counter, I moved around the island and swung her up from her stool and into my arms. I spun us in a circle, singing off-key and just as loud as could be. “Amor, amor, amor. Give me some more. Don’t drop Little Miss Daisy on the floor.”

I fumbled, pretending like she was slipping from my hands. I caught her a second later, just as she screeched, and I swept her back upright. Daisy scrambled to get