Dream Chaser (Dream Team #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,138
her hand. “By God, where did I go wrong with you?”
“I don’t know the big fucking deal,” Angelica snapped. “She’s just throwing a tantrum.”
“When your daughter wastes away to nearly nothing, Angelica, that is not just a tantrum,” Brenda informed her. “Now I know why you didn’t let me come over and it makes me sick to my stomach. Sick to my damned stomach.”
“We should help Mom and Brian,” I murmured to Boone.
Angelica whirled again to me.
“You’re not stepping one foot in my goddamned house.”
“We’ll wait in the car,” Boone murmured to me.
“You won’t. You’ll go in and help pack up my babies so this scene can be done for them and they can be at home with their father,” Brenda decreed.
Angelica was whirling again. “He’s a drunk, Mom.”
“He’s not. Not at this moment. He called me weeks ago to get Bob’s number and Bob tells me he’s doing the work.”
Who was Bob?
“So he’s a drunk hanging out with drunks,” Angelica derided.
“You know better than that. Bob’s been sober for nine years,” Brenda returned.
Oh.
All right.
I didn’t know Bob.
I just knew Bob got Brian to a meeting.
So I really liked Bob.
Boone took my hand and we skirted the dueling pair.
There was no hope Angelica would miss it.
And she didn’t.
“Right, there she goes. She took everything else from me, now she’s going to take my kids.”
“You know, Ang,” Brenda began, “the sad part of this, the part that breaks my heart, the part that just kills me, is that it took your man nearly killing himself, and definitely losing his kids, to snap out of it. But you? Brian’s going to take those kids from this house, he’s going to get his act together, he’s going to father those children, and you are going to spend your time convincing yourself how everyone done you wrong, until you’re certain you’re right, and then you’re still not going to be a good mother. Or maybe even a decent person. You’re going to book a massage.”
Ouch.
Boone pulled me in the house.
Once in, I let his hand go and made a beeline to Portia’s room.
I got to the door, and I stopped.
Her dad was folding clothes into a little pink suitcase.
She was shoving stuffed animals in a garbage bag.
Apparently, Mom was with Jethro packing his stuff.
Portia looked to me and it was good she melted when my eyes filled with tears because she was so scary skinny.
“C’mere, baby,” I whispered.
She dumped her stuffed animals and raced to me.
I crouched down and caught her in my arms, then fell to my ass when hers went around me.
Her delicate body racked with a sob.
Mine returned the gesture.
“Don’t go away again, Auntie Rynnie,” she bawled into my neck.
“I won’t, honey.”
“Promise.”
“Swear.”
She held tighter.
I didn’t let her go.
Boone asked, “What can I do, bud?”
“Finish her stuffed animals?” Brian requested.
“On it,” Boone said.
I kept Portia close and got a lock on my tears before she did hers.
And I held her in my lap after she’d wound down to sniffles.
I continued to hold her in my lap as she peeked out from under spiky-wet lashes and whispered, “Your new boyfriend is really cute.”
Boone was in profile, now helping Brian stuff clothes into a different garbage bag.
I still saw his lips twitch.
“That he is, my girl, that he is,” I agreed.
She rested her head on my shoulder, and after a beat, asked, “After we drop our stuff at Daddy’s, can we still go get ice cream?”
To this question, from two different male mouths, she got two very firm answers of “Absolutely.”
Epilogue
“My Hero”
Boone
Boone sat in the grass, knees up, elbows at them, holding his pop loose between his legs, as he stared at Ryn and the kids racing around the backyard of her flip.
It had started with Frisbee.
But ten minutes ago, the Frisbee had flown over the back fence, no one went to get it, so he had no idea what they were doing now.
“I cannot believe I wasn’t there through that shit.”
That was her brother, who was sitting next to Boone, same position, with a pop, eyes on his sister and his kids.
Boone had just told Brian about Ryn, Cisco, dead bodies, and how they still needed to look after their girl.
It was a lot to lay on a guy who was a full three weeks sober.
But from the sound of his voice, Boone suspected it wasn’t going to drive him back to the bottle.
He sounded like he now had more than two very important reasons to keep his shit tight.