She went to use the bathroom and brush her teeth, and when she glanced in the mirror, she realized she hadn’t really looked at herself since the accident. Her skin was so pale, it made the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. Her hair was a crazy mess, but that wasn’t new. She’d given up trying to get it to behave years ago. She stared at her mouth, recalling the hard press of Tank’s lips, the feel of his tongue exploring hers, the heat of his hand on her back. Her entire body tingled and burned, greedy for a repeat performance.
And more…
She squeezed her eyes closed, willing those feelings away, but it was like trying to swat a hummingbird that kept darting out of reach and diving back in.
Tank’s voice whispered through her mind. You’re beautiful, Leah, and you have the most exquisite lips. No man other than her father or River had ever told her she was pretty, much less beautiful. She had always felt like she looked nothing short of odd. River had looked biracial. But Leah didn’t see that in herself. She looked multiracial. She was skinny with a big forehead, a nose that was a bit flat at the bridge like her father’s, but narrow and tipped up at the end. Her skin was too pale and freckled for her dark eyebrows and strange mix of dark-brown and red hair. Some strands were almost orange, others like dark chocolate. From what her father had told her, there had been interracial relationships in their family for generations. Her great-grandmother had been Puerto Rican, and somewhere in their past there was American Indian heritage. Leah saw herself as a mix of everyone who had come before her. Interesting to look at, maybe, in the way people stared at funny-looking dogs, but not beautiful. Especially not with puffy, sad eyes and a broken heart.
Maybe Tank needed glasses, or maybe he really found her to be beautiful. She wanted to believe the latter. Not that it mattered, because as she reached for the door with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she knew what she had to do.
“Mama!” Rosie toddled over.
Leah scooped her up and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Rosie Posey.”
“We sleeped with Tank!” Rosie exclaimed.
“I saw that.” Leah eyed Tank, sitting on the couch with Junie snuggled against his side, and she melted a little more. His beard shifted with his grin, and he lifted his chin in acknowledgment. She mouthed, Thank you.
“Mornin’, Mama.” Junie slid off the couch and went to her.
Rosie wriggled out of Leah’s arms and ran into the bathroom as Leah hugged Junie. “How’s my Juju?”
“Good. I gotta pee.” She went into the bathroom. “Huwwy, Wosie!”
Leah watched over them and made sure they washed their hands.
“Play puppy patwol!” Rosie darted into her bedroom, and Junie followed her in.
Leah mustered all of her courage and went back to the living room. Tank was on his feet, stretching his arms up and out. The bottom of his shirt inched up, revealing an enticing glimpse of his stomach and part of a tattoo that disappeared beneath the waist of his jeans. Her mind followed that tattoo to darker places, and her body flamed.
No, no, no.
It wasn’t like she could delete that image from her memory. How was she supposed to stop thinking about that flash of stomach that her fingers itched to touch, or the ink that had piqued her curiosity?
He reached for her hand, pulling her closer, and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, beautiful.”
She wanted to put her arms around him, go up on her toes, and share more of those toe-curling kisses, but she forced those desires down deep and said, “Did you get any sleep?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Enough. How about you? It sounded like you had a rough night.”
“Kinda.” She was too nervous about what she had to say to be embarrassed by him having heard her crying. She looked over her shoulder and saw the girls playing in their bedroom. “Can we talk in the kitchen for a second?” He nodded and followed her into the kitchen, every step amping up her anxiousness.
“Is this about last night?”
“Yes.” She saw a flash of regret in his eyes.
“I’m sorry if I crossed a line or made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t. I wanted to kiss you.” He looked confused. “But our lives are in turmoil, and even if I want to be with you, I can’t put the girls’ emotions at risk.”
He stepped closer, brow furrowed, and touched her hand. “Leah, I’m not going to hurt them.”
“I know you’d never hurt them on purpose. But what if we get closer and then it doesn’t work out?”
“I don’t have a crystal ball to predict the future. But I was honest with you when I said I’ve never felt like this before. My life revolves around my family, the club, my tattoo shop, and the firehouse. I spend the little free time I have with the guys, and yeah, I hook up with women. Maybe a lot of women by your standards, but that’s all it’s ever been, and they know the score when we get together. I wouldn’t give up a Sunday ride with the Dark Knights for any of the women I’ve been with, much less every night of the week. But every part of me wants to be with you and the girls.”
She’d never had dreams of finding Mr. Right, but if she ever had, she knew he’d more than fit the bill. Except maybe for the number of women he’d been with. She wondered why he’d told her about them, but she had a feeling Tank only knew how to be blatantly honest, which made her realize that he must really think of her as beautiful.
This was getting harder by the second.
“Tank, if circumstances were different, I wouldn’t need to do this. But they’re not, and the girls already rely on you too much.” We all do.
“I’m sorry about letting them sleep on the couch with me. Junie woke up around three crying for River. I tried to soothe her back to sleep, but she wanted to talk about him. I didn’t want to wake you up because, as I said, it sounded like your night was rough. So I brought her out to the living room with me. Rosie woke up right after like it was morning, ready to play.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, pain slicing through her at the thought of Junie crying for River.
“It’s okay. I just didn’t want to wake you when it sounded like you’d finally fallen asleep. I hope you don’t mind, but Junie had a lot of questions about where River is now, physically. The other day, after you and I talked about how you should tell the girls, I went online and researched how to speak to kids about death. I was careful with the answers I gave them. We talked about tomorrow, what they can expect and how it’s okay to be sad. As difficult as the burial will be, I think it’ll help them. It’s hard for adults to understand someone being here one day and gone the next, and I imagine it’s a hundred times harder for kids. Knowing where River is laid to rest and that they can visit him there might give them comfort.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t believe you did all of that for us.”
“I think it helped. I also put on one of the videos of River singing. It was a song they liked. Something about shoes and milk. I don’t know.”
“‘Dynamite.’”
“They knew every word. I tried to get them back in their beds, but they clung to me. I just couldn’t do it, so we lay on the couch, and we talked about River until they conked out. I didn’t have the heart to move them.”