She grumbles something but doesn’t push the issue, mostly because she can’t. Not over the phone. But even still, I’m not bringing drugs into a prison. I’m no Mother Teresa, but even I have my limits.
“So is this nannying gig going to turn out like the last one?” she asks.
“If I’m lucky.”
“You are lucky, Scarlet. You’re beautiful, and the world loves beautiful people.”
“It’s more than that.” I sink down on the first step, feeling the threads I keep tightly wrapped around myself start to loosen. I tighten the threads back up until I can hardly breathe.
Not today, Satan.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “Call me the next time you can, okay? And please, Heather, just keep to yourself.”
“That’s not how it works in here, sis. You gotta find a crew or you’ll get eaten alive.”
“You’re in minimum security, Heath. Is it really that bad?”
“You have no idea,” she says in a voice so icy it sends a chill through me. “Love you, Scarbutt.”
“Love you too, bitch.”
I end the call and close my eyes. She’s in minimum security now, but I have a sinking feeling it’s only a matter of time before she’s sent to max. Dad’s dying. My sister is in prison. Jason is overseas.
I’m so alone, and I just want my family back…though deep down I know I never really had one in the first place.
Chapter Eight
Weston
“Daddy!”
Jackson comes running, throwing his arms around me. Coming home to my son is the best part of my day. I never realize how much I miss this kid until his skinny little arms are wrapped around my neck. Scooping him up with one hand, I stand, pretending to drop him.
Jackson lets out a dramatic yell and then laughs hysterically. I do it again and get the same reaction.
“We made dinner!” he tells me excitedly, taking my hand as soon as his feet hit the floor. “Come eat!”
“Give me one minute, and I’ll join you.”
“It’s just nuggets and mac and cheese,” Scarlet says almost apologetically. She’s still wearing the denim shorts she had on earlier but has added a button-up flannel shirt over her tank top. Her blonde hair is in a messy braid, with loose strands hanging around her face. Even a blind man would notice how gorgeous she is.
“Some of our favorites,” I say and take off my shoes. I’m still in uniform with my gun strapped to my utility belt around my waist. I go upstairs to lock it up and change into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt.
Scarlet is bringing plates to the table and does a double take when she sees me. I can’t get a good read on her, and I don’t get why everyday things seem surprising to her. Maybe it’s a sign this isn’t going to work out and I should let her go after the weekend is over, saying we’re just not a good match.
Though that would be one hell of a lie. There are plenty of things I’d like to do with Scarlet where I think we’d be a match made in heaven.
“How was your day, buddy?” I ask Jackson, tearing my eyes away from Scarlet as she sets the final plate down on the table. Her shorts are tight in all the right places, and it’s a battle of willpower not to steal another glance at her fine ass.
“It was so fun!” He puts his chicken nugget back down on his plate and bounces with excitement. “First, we played dinosaurs. Then Scarlet chased me around like a zombie!”
“Sounds like you had a pretty fun day.” I smile, heart warming at the sight of his happy face.
“It was more fun than when I spend the day with Grammy, but don’t tell her that.” Jackson hunches his shoulders in as he speaks, making both Scarlet and me laugh.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Scarlet promises.
Jackson takes one small bite of his food before starting up again, going through every single detail of the day. It sounds like he really did have fun, and it’s nice knowing he was up and active and not stuck in front of a screen all day. Not that Mom gives him her phone with YouTube videos all the time or anything, but sometimes she has work to do and that’s the only way to get shit done.
“Are we going to Grammy and Papa’s this weekend?” Jackson asks.
“Yep,” I reply and then flick my eyes to Scarlet. “We go to my parents’ house for dinner almost every Sunday.”
“That’s nice.” She pushes her mac and cheese around on her plate before taking a bite.
“Can Scarlet come too?” Jackson asks, eyes full of hope.
“Uh,” I start, not knowing what to say. Scarlet lives with us—for now—but she’s not part of the family. She has no obligation to do anything other than take care of Jackson, and Sunday is technically her day off. “If she wants to, she’s welcome to come.”
“Yay! Did you hear what my daddy said? You can come!”
“If she wants to,” I stress.
“Please!” Jackson begs her. “Please oh please say yes!”
Scarlet laughs. “How can I say no to that face?”
Jackson gets so excited he jumps out of his chair and runs around the table to give Scarlet a hug.
“Eat,” I gently remind him. “We have to go over letters and then get a bath in.”
“We already did letters,” he says, giving me a know-it-all look.
“Excuse me?” I raise my eyebrows.
With a dramatic sigh that he learned from Dean no doubt, he points to Scarlet. “We already did letters, Dad.”
“He showed me his workbook and asked if we could do a page. He got lowercase ‘b’ and ‘d’ mixed up a few times, but other than that, he did a good job.”
I’m not sure how to feel about this. Can this woman teach Jackson as well as I can? It’s not like I’m an overqualified child educator, but he’s my son.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Can we go to the park then?” Jackson asks.
“Yeah, we’ll have time before bed now.”
“Yay!” Jackson drops his fork and starts clapping. I shift my gaze from him to Scarlet, taking in the slight smile pulling up her full lips. “Will you come too, Scarlet?” he asks.
“Of course!” She beams at him, and he jabbers away about his favorite things to do at the park the rest of dinner. I take Jackson upstairs to change into something a little warmer. The evening air takes on a chill once the sun goes down.
The park is two blocks away, and Jackson usually rides his bike while I walk behind. He still needs training wheels and struggles a bit when the sidewalk is uneven.
Scarlet changed into black leggings and a long-sleeve T-shirt and is walking in step next to me. I turn my head, unable to help but notice the way her breasts bounce with each step even though she’s wearing a bra.
“You don’t have to go to dinner with my family on Sunday,” I start. “Don’t feel pressured by Jackson. He’ll get over it.”
She gives me a pleasant smile. “I don’t mind, really. I have nothing else to do. But if you don’t want me there—”
“No, that’s not it,” I say quickly. Why do I care about offending her? I shouldn’t.