Bonus Kisses - Freya Barker Page 0,83

any particular argument, but realize sadly there were plenty more than one occasion when she could’ve heard.

Sofie remembers, though. “Right before you started sleeping in the spare bedroom.”

Jesus.

Goes to show kids are far more perceptive than you give them credit for. That was almost a year and a half ago, and we thought we were hiding our marital discord so well.

“I’m sorry you heard us fight, baby.”

“You were really mad at Mommy.”

Fuck me.

I lift Sofie off my lap and set her on her feet between my legs so we’re eye to eye. “Listen to me; your mom and I would get mad at each other sometimes, just like you and your brother do from time to time. That doesn’t mean you don’t love him anymore, right? He’ll always be your brother. People get angry—they fight—sometimes over things they can’t change. I could get angry with Mom, but I still loved her because she’ll always be the mother of my children. That doesn’t change, not even now she’s gone.”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

Sonofabitch.

She’s not holding back a thing. I guess I should be grateful for that, but I wish she’d save that question for a next time.

“Probably.” I opt for honesty. “There’s no rush with that, though.”

She nods, staring at the toes of her sneakers, and I wonder what other questions are brewing. She surprises me. “I tried to hate her; Aunt Taz.” Her eyes meet mine shyly. “I didn’t want her, I wanted Mom—but it didn’t work.”

“She’s hard to hate, much easier to love.”

“I know,” Sofie whispers.

Taz

Thank God I’m not queasy, although shoving my hand down the throat of that big fish Spencer just pulled out of the water is not my idea of fun.

“Can you feel it?”

My fingers brush the metal. “I can. Give me a sec.”

The poor fish is barely flopping on the grass while I try to remove the hook from its gullet. Spencer wants to throw it back, but I’m not so sure it’ll survive.

I give a sharp yank in an attempt to dislodge the thing, and wince when I feel it give away. I don’t want to think about the damage I may have done.

“Hey, kiddo?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think our friend here is gonna make it.”

Spencer bends down over the now motionless fish and pokes it with a grubby finger. “Can we eat him?”

I bite down a grin at the pragmatic five-year-old. “Sure. It’s big enough to feed the four of us.” That is, if there are actually gonna be four for dinner.

Spencer had been so distracted by the fish he hooked, he barely noticed his sister running off, Rafe close behind. I tried hard not to think about them while I helped my nephew land his first fish.

“I got a fish!” I hear Spencer yell. When I look up, I see Rafe and his daughter walking toward us, holding hands. I blow out a relieved breath and keep an anxious eye on Sofie as they approach, but she’s focused on the now dead fish her brother can barely lift up.

“Your first fish, that’s great, Son,” Rafe compliments with a quick wink in my direction.

“We’re gonna cook it for dinner.”

“I’m gonna have to clean it first,” I announce, getting to my feet.

“I can do it.”

I grin at Rafe. “Not my first time for that either. You can build a fire while I take care of the fish.”

He hands me the hunting knife he carries in the sheath on his belt before he turns to the firepit. The kids decide the fire is more interesting than my scaling of the fish until Sofie sees me gutting it. Thus leads to a brief biology lesson while I clean and wash the trout, both kids listening with rapt attention.

Dinner consists of the corn we picked up at a road stand on our way here, a few baking potatoes we’d brought from home, and Spencer’s fish.

“Why does it taste so much better?” Sofie asks, taking another bite from the large cob.

“Nothing beats food cooked over a wood fire,” I tell her. “Wait until we make bacon and pancakes tomorrow morning.”

“Can I help?” she asks, and I have to swallow a lump in my throat before I can answer.

“Absolutely.”

“Hey, Son?”

I’m not sure whether Rafe was waiting to gauge his daughter’s reaction to me, but the moment I hear him call on Spencer, I know what he’s going to say.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Your aunt, Taz, and I…well, we really like each other,” he says clumsily, and I almost laugh.

“I know,” Spencer says matter-of-factly, shoving