CLARE
I arched a brow at the little girl playing on my lawn. “Sally, you’re in the wrong yard. Again.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest as she grinned at me.
“But I like it much better here, Ms. Delaney. Your grass is fluffier.”
I laughed, loving the little girl as much as I hated her annoying father. “Of course it is. I paid a fortune for that.” I sat down on my porch steps while Sally danced her doll through my grass.
She was a beautiful kid, her hair the same whiskey color her father sported, while her eyes had to be her mother’s. Dale’s were unique, dark brown that lightened on the outside, while Sally’s were a startling blue.
Her mother had died before I moved here, but Mrs. Olsen from next door—not Dale’s next door, but the other side—had told me she’d been a beautiful woman with pale skin and those shining baby blues. I couldn’t help but hurt for the child playing across from me. Sometimes, I felt like gathering her in my arms and kissing the top of her head, just to make her feel protected.
“How did you sleep, sweetie?” I asked, remembering Dale mentioning her nightmares. I wondered how frequent they were. Did she have them every night? Or only occasionally?
The corners of her mouth turned down, but she didn’t cease her playing. “Not so good. Daddy had to make my nightmares go away.”
I reached out, brushing my fingertips through her soft hair. “Do you have nightmares often?”
She paused and stared up at me, the pain clearly visible in her eyes. I opened my arms, waiting to see what she’d do. She hesitated a moment before dropping the doll and coming over.
I gathered her close, pulling her onto my lap, and held her for a moment before she started speaking.
“Almost every night. I dream of cars and monsters. They eat the car, and people scream inside. I watch them, then they come for me.” She shivered, turning her face into my shoulder. I pressed my lips against her hair, noticing that she smelled of chocolate, sugar, and her father, leading me to assume he hugged her frequently.
“What do the monsters look like?” I asked softly.
She shrugged, her little shoulders moving against me. I looked over at the house where I expected her father to be.
In our neighborhood, people still let their kids play outside because they knew there was always someone watching out for them. We were tight-knit and would always have each other’s backs—although Dale would need someone else to back him up because I stayed away from him as much as possible.
He was rude, condescending, and an asshole most of the time, even though I’d never done anything except move in next door. It wasn’t my fault he kept his house deathly silent and I didn’t.
I’d grown up with music, laughter, and singing, longing for the same as an adult. I’d thought Eddy, my ex, would’ve been the one to create a family with, but it turned out he liked “creating families” with others.
I dated occasionally, not finding any guy who’d held my attention long enough for me to even grant him a second chance.
“They are big and have no faces, just mouths.”
It took me a moment to remember that I’d asked Sally a question. I turned my attention back to her. “The monsters? In your dreams, is it day or nighttime? Are they like shadows?”
Sally’s head snapped up, hitting my jaw. My eyes watered instantly.
Damn, this girl has a hard head.
Her eyes widened. “Shadows, yes. And it’s night, really dark. No clouds or moon. But the monsters are even darker.”
As I moved my mouth, testing my jaw, I wondered what to deduce from that. Sally’s mother died in a car accident. Whether the girl actively knew that, I had no idea.
I thought for a moment while she played with the pearls decorating my top. “And how does your dad chase the monsters away?”
She stayed quiet again, then lowered her voice. “He just holds me, and I think I fall asleep again while crying. When I wake up, he’s still holding me.”
Meaning Dale was probably cranky a lot of the time because he didn’t sleep much.
Not that it’s any excuse as to how he treats me.
“I’m sure you’ll outgrow them. When I was little, I had nightmares. Eventually, they got less and less.”
She pulled away and clambered off my lap, only to lay down on the grass, chin propped on her hands. “Really?” I could tell she was relieved someone else felt like she did.
“Really,” I assured her, although there was no way I’d tell her why I had those nightmares to begin with. “They started when I was eight, and were really bad for about two years. Then they got a little better and I only had them every other week. Now I just have them, like, every couple months. In fact, I haven’t had one this year yet.”
It was going on August, and it took me saying that out loud to realize it was true.
“So it’ll get better?” she asked, hope shining in her eyes.
“Yes, sweet cheeks, it will. Maybe you should try some sleeping techniques, like…” I thought for a second. “Thinking of something that makes you happy. Reading a book with princesses and dragons. Or you can imagine things you still want to do or want to have.” Those were tips I’d gotten from a psychologist back then. I knew they’d never helped, never stopped the nightmares, but at least they’d given me the feeling as if I could do something.
“Daddy sings me to sleep. He doesn’t sing well and Grandma always laughs about it, but he does that,” she explained.
I tapped my chin. “What if he started telling you stories instead? Maybe that would help.” I had no idea if Dale was creative or not, but he could always buy books.
Damn, the guy could manage that, right?
I was proven wrong when, five hours later, the brute breezed into my living room, furious.
“You told my daughter to make me stop singing and tell her stories instead?” he fumed.
I glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty, so Sally clearly went to bed early—and easily.
I didn’t get up from the couch or look up from my book longer than it took me to arch my brow at him. “All I told her was maybe telling her a story would keep her mind occupied enough to keep the nightmares at bay. If she focuses on something other than cars and shadows—such as dragons and princesses—maybe there won’t be nightmares. It’s not foolproof, but it’s worth a try.”
He stayed silent until I looked up, finding his dark eyes on me. “Cars and shadows?”
I blinked, surprised at how soft and warm his voice could sound when he wasn’t screaming. However, I knew I needed to tread carefully.
“Aren’t kids always dreaming about shadows? They lurk everywhere, grab you from under the bed—”
“You said cars and shadows, as if you know something I don’t.”
He loomed over me, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his black tee straining against his muscles. I wondered what it was that Dale did, but then shook the thought from my mind. What did it matter?
I stood, no longer wanting him to look down on me—which I knew was stupid because even standing, I barely reached his chin—and placed my hands on my hips.
“Maybe your daughter didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to worry. Maybe she needed to tell someone and—”
He took a step closer, his nose almost touching mine.
“Stay away from her. You’re the last person she needs, Delaney. You’re not her mother. In fact, you’re nothing to her but the nice woman from next door, so stop putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.” His voice was low, almost threatening.
I gaped at him, opening and closing my mouth before fisting my hands. “You asshole. All I did was console your child, then made suggestions I thought you would appreciate because they might, just might, change how her nights go. As it is, though, she is the only Harris welcome at my house from now on. If I see you on my lawn or inside my home, I’ll call the cops.”
He paled, stepping back as if I’d slapped him. “You wouldn’t.”
No, I wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.
I set my jaw, holding his gaze. “Try me, Harris. I dare you.” My body vibrated with anger. I felt insulted, hurt, attacked. I’d never try to replace anyone’s mother. I just wanted to make a hurt little girl feel better.
God, did he even realize what he was saying? He should be happy a woman was nice to his daughter.
“You are the worst person on the planet, Clare Delaney. I have no idea how you sleep at night.” He spun on his heel and strode to the door, yanking it open.
“Easy. In my bed, my head on my pillow, naked! Dickhead!”
He was long gone by the time I’d finished my sentence, yet I couldn’t help but be glad I’d said it anyway.