she says with a smile, her hand stroking my jaw. “I should get going, they’re waiting for me.”
She goes up on her toes and presses her lips to mine, kissing me sweetly, before she pulls open the passenger side door.
As they back out of the parking spot, Lissie signs, “I love you.”
Lissie
“So Mr. Yuma is your boyfriend? Are you going to get married? Do I get to wear a pretty dress?”
Kiara is asking a million and one questions from the back seat, not giving me a chance to answer any one of them.
“Sweetheart, take a breath and give Lissie a chance to talk,” Lisa admonishes the girl gently.
“Women,” Ezrah grumbles, making me chuckle.
He is so much like the big men he hangs out with at the club. It’s cute since he’s still so young, but I can already tell he’s a handful.
I turn in my seat so I can see Kiara.
“Yes, Yuma is my boyfriend and if we ever get married you get to wear a pretty dress.”
“Yay!” She does a little fist pump.
Her excitement wanes quickly, and by the time we get to the Riverside her eyes barely stay open. Lisa hands Ezrah the keys and sends him to open her door as she lifts Kiara from the back seat. The little girl clings to her, putting her head on her nana’s shoulder.
“Night, Lisa, thanks for the ride,” I tell her at the top of the stairs.
“No problem. Night.”
I lean over and kiss the little girl’s cheek. “Night, honey.”
“Night, Lissie,” she mumbles.
I watch them walk into their apartment before I turn to my door. I fish my keys from my purse and let myself inside, closing the door behind me before I reach for the light switch.
Nothing happens. The lightbulb must’ve burned out. I think I might have a spare in the hallway closet.
I walk into the living room and hit the switch there.
Nothing.
CHAPTER 29
Yuma
I CAN’T REMEMBER the last time I did something constructive with my father—if ever—but I’m thinking we should’ve done this years ago.
After decades of not seeing eye to eye on anything, this simple manual labor, working side by side with him toward a common goal, has been eye opening. He’s still a grumpy old man, and I’m sure he still sees me as a pain-in-the-ass snotnose, but it’s no longer all we see. For as long as I can remember, I colored every look or word my father directed at me through my expectation of him, although I didn’t see it at the time. It became easy to interpret anything he said in the light I believed he saw me in.
Fucking expectations never left room for anything else.
Not until now, with Momma gone and emotions still raw, it feels like we’re seeing each other for the first time.
“Take a breather, Pop,” I tell him, after seeing him struggle to get up from the floor to get another board. Fuck, my knees are killing me and he’s got thirty years on me.
I don’t even realize what slipped out without thinking until I see the emotion on his face.
Pop. I used to call him that a long time ago. Before I dropped it in favor of Nosh somewhere in my teens, because that’s what all the other guys called him. Later it just became something to underline the division. Something to lash out at him with.
Fuck, it shames me to see what the simple three-letter word I’ve kept from him for so long means to him.
“We should call it a night. Go see your woman.”
“I will as soon as I finish these last two rows. Why don’t you start heading over to the clubhouse? I’ll be right behind you.”
He nods and I watch as he gingerly heads down the stairs.
Tse actually helped for a couple of hours before he’d taken off to parts unknown, and of course Wapi was here, but he’s responsible for the boys’ bunkhouse at night and had to go. We did manage to get all of the upstairs floors done, except for the bathroom and a few rows in the master.
It doesn’t take me long to finish those before I clean up, shut off the lights, and head over to the clubhouse. Trunk is on the porch, smoking a cigarette.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” I motion for him to hand me his pack.
“Been a crazy fucking day,” he grumbles.
“How so?”
“Had a breakthrough with those boys today. Started this morning when I caught Thomas calling Ezrah a nigger. Spent the morning holed up in