you once in a while? Did you think about the kids when you were opening that door?”
The laughter died in an instant. “Hey, don’t you dare question my parenting! What the hell would you know about it? You don’t have a damn clue what it’s like raising three kids!”
“No, and neither does your husband.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the woman asked, both angry and offended. “What the hell did your little chippy say that got you worked up like this? I hurt her feelings? What was it you used to say about people offended by the mouths in this family? That the Maddox ranks were no place for snivelers or snitches.”
“Yeah, well maybe I got fed up keeping all your damn secrets.”
“All my secrets? All my—you fucker.”
Poppy didn’t realize she was peeking again until she witnessed the woman shoving at Turner.
Leaping to action, she swung herself around the landing bannister onto the stairs next to them. “I’m Charley’s friend,” Poppy announced, drawing both of their attention, though it was the woman she fixated on. “Her ‘project’ people keep telling me. We work together… Turner’s just helping me out with a place to stay because Charley asked him to.”
Not exactly true, but not exactly false either. Intensifying her focus on the woman, Poppy ignored what she saw in her peripheral vision: Turner’s jaw tick and the inhale that expanded his chest… Yeah, he didn’t like that he couldn’t claim her any more than she liked not being able to declare herself his. But she wasn’t going to let him be judged for his weakness. His rules were starting to make a lot more sense.
The woman straightened up and her expression morphed to something equating alarm. “Did you tell Charley you saw me? Did you tell her about the kids?”
“Faye,” Turner said on an exhale.
“No, I need to know what she said.”
“Don’t get pissed at her,” Turner said, obviously recognizing the woman was going on the defensive. “If she told Charley, Charley would be here, wouldn’t she? She’d have called you—she’d have called Mom.”
“Mom,” Poppy whispered as the woman he’d called Faye turned to Turner.
“I’m not ready for Mom to know,” Faye said. “She’s gonna ask questions and—”
“I know,” Turner said, laying his hands on her shoulders. “You and the kids are good here as long as you need to be. But, Kiddo, you know this won’t stay a secret long if you keep answering the damn door.”
Wringing her hands, Faye’s worry became something much more vulnerable. “I don’t know what I’m gonna tell her.”
“We’ll work it out,” Turner said. “Together.”
“Mommy.”
The little voice took both adults attention toward the door. Poppy couldn’t see the door because she was on the stairs above it.
“Has everyone finished their pudding? Do you want to help me give your sister a bath, honey?” Faye looked to Turner and then at her before disappearing toward the little voice.
A door closed. As Turner wandered over, Poppy descended a few stairs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I have five sisters,” he said, gathering her hands inside his, holding them together. “Two nieces and a nephew. My father died when I was eighteen, I’ve been supporting my mom and the girls since then.” He paused to become more solemn. “I don’t hide who my family are. I’m not ashamed of them. But taking me on means taking them on. It means dealing with the drama and the craziness. Just like it means taking on Pres and Naught, and yeah, even Ritchie.” His half smile transferred to her lips. “I don’t get involved lightly anymore. I used to… I mean I used to grab action when I could and, yeah, sometimes I screwed up with women, but I have never cheated and I have never put anything before my family. When the twins were little, it was easy to hide those mistakes. Now they’re older, I don’t make those mistakes… at least I’m not supposed to.”
Poppy ran her fingers into his hair to stop him from looking down. “I am not a mistake,” she murmured, descending down another stair to get closer. “You’re the oldest?”
He nodded. “Faye is next, there’s six years between us. Then it’s Charley, who you know. Willow is seventeen and the twins are fifteen.”
“Oh my God,” she said, amazed at the magnitude of what he’d taken on. “When you were eighteen… That was fifteen years ago.”
“The twins were just a few weeks old when my father and grandfather were hit by a drunk driver. Dead