CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The reveal went down in Gannon’s book as one of his favorites. Carina was in tears before he and Cat dropped the sheet unveiling the house. Malia was so excited she ran in circles until Paige had to catch her and coax her back into frame.
When she saw her bedroom Malia was rendered completely speechless, which according to Carina had never happened in all her six years on the planet.
They deserved it, in his opinion. The show always did a decent job of vetting the families, but the Dufours were a home run. He watched Carina and Malia thank every single crew member personally and knew they all felt the same way. That little girl and her strong-as-hell mom were the reason they’d come to the set early and stayed late, the reason they’d had more volunteers this week than on any other job. And he felt proud to be a part of it.
He ducked out of the chaos inside the house. He wasn’t exactly a people person to begin with, and spending an entire week surrounded by bodies and questions and people needing things from him was draining… and annoying. He was looking forward to a few days of peace and quiet. But for now, he’d take the pockets of it where he could find it. And he could find it in the craft service tent. No one wanted cold coffee or stale breakfast pastries, so he helped himself and enjoyed the solitude, kicking back in an uncomfortable folding chair.
His solitude was short-lived.
“Gannon!” Malia poked her bald head covered by a pink ball cap into the tent. She was still carrying the Disney princess backpack she’d worn when Sam had delivered her to the set for the reveal.
Gannon held up a donut. “Want some? What are you doing out here?”
She skipped over to him cheerfully, and he sent up a silent “fuck you” to cancer. Malia grabbed the donut and took a healthy bite. “I came to say thank you.”
Gannon laughed. “I think you already thanked me about a hundred times.”
“Yeah, but that was around everybody, and there were cameras, and I didn’t know if you really heard me.”
Smart kid, Gannon sighed to himself. “Well, I hear you just fine now.”
She took another bite of donut and climbed into his lap. She was still at the age where adults were as much furniture as they were people. “I wanted to say thank you, ‘specially for my bed!”
He riffed the bill of her hat. “You like it?” he asked. He’d wanted to get it just right for her.
“It is seriously awesome,” she said, nodding fiercely. “The most coolest bed ever!”
“What do you think of the rest of the house?” he asked.
“It’s so different.” Her brown eyes widened. “Mama cried when she saw the kitchen. But she said it was a good cry this time.”
“You two deserve it,” Gannon assured her. “You’ve done a lot of good for a lot of people.”
“Mama says if we raise enough money, some day little kids won’t get sick anymore.”
Gannon felt his throat tighten. “Yeah. That will be a good day.”
“I made you somethin’,” she said, sliding off of his lap and shrugging out of the little backpack. “When we were in Washington, D.C., I worked on this.”
She handed over a rolled up piece of paper tied with a pink ribbon. He unrolled it and felt his throat get tighter still. She’d drawn him, or what he assumed was him, flying above a crayon-sketched mansion with smiling stick figures representing Malia and her mother on the purple front lawn.
“What’s that?” he asked pointing.
“That’s your cape. ‘Cause you’re a super hero, and you saved our house,” Malia danced in place.
In painstaking capital letters, she’d written “HERO” across the top. She pointed to it. “See that? H-E-R-O. That’s for hero because you’re mine.”
Well, shit. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t do anything to dislodge the lump in his throat.
“You’re mine, kid,” he said, his voice gruff and strained.
“I haven’t even done anything yet. I’m just six,” she said frowning. “You saved our whole entire house.”
“You’re a hero by example,” he explained. She shrugged.
“Are you happy crying?” she asked, touching his arm, her eyes warm with concern.
He nodded and gave her another hug.
“Thank you for my house, Gannon.”
“You’re welcome, pipsqueak.”
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Paige’s throat tightened, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. She’d come looking for Gannon for a couple of quick photos and found him sharing a sweet moment with Malia inside the craft service tent.
“You want me to…” Tony hefted his camera and jerked his chin in Gannon’s direction. Paige shook her head.
“Nah. Why don’t you go get one last pan of the master now that it’s cleared out,” she said quietly.
“You got it, boss,” Tony winked and wandered off.
Paige felt the prickle on her skin and knew Gannon was watching her. Busted. She turned in the doorway of the tent and met his warm gaze.
Malia released Gannon from the hug and skipped toward Paige. “Hi Paige! I’m gonna go find Mama!” she announced cheerily.
“I think she’s upstairs,” Paige told her with a wink.
Gannon yanked the ever-present red bandana from his back pocket and swiped it over his eyes.
“Could have pocketed five K,” he said, shoving the bandana back in his pocket and leaning back against the scarred folding table.
“How did you know about that?” Paige demanded.
“Eventually Cat finds out everything everyone ever said or did and she blabs to me about it whether I want to hear it or not,” Gannon complained.
“I wasn’t ever going to do it.” Paige said defensively.
He shook his head. “Didn’t say you were.” He paused, working his way through the lingering emotions. “Why didn’t you?”
She gave him a small smile. “Because, on the off chance that you did prove to be human, I didn’t think it would be nice to exploit that.”
“It’s not that I don’t care,” he said, searching for the right words. “It’s that it’s hard to connect with people through all the layers of production. I’m supposed to feel something for people that I meet very briefly and have coached, sometimes scripted, interactions with. That’s not how I work. That’s not how life works.”
“You need a more authentic environment to make a connection.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. He stretched his arm out to encompass the site. “We’re putting on a show. At the end of the day, that’s what we’re doing. Maybe we’re helping someone, but what it all boils down to is we’re selling some advertiser’s product. It’s hard to drill down from that and find actual human beings.”
“I know,” she nodded, crossing to him. They’d both turned in their mics to Felicia an hour ago, and with no audience, Paige felt safe sliding her arms around his waist.
She felt him tense against her and then relax. He rested his chin on top of her head. His arms banded around her, holding her tight.
“I wasn’t ever going to try to collect on the bounty,” Paige told him again. She needed him to know that.
“I know. You’re not like the rest of the suits.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What are you doing with your days off?”
“Laundry and sleeping,” she smirked. “You?”
“I was thinking maybe you’d like to do your laundry and sleeping at my place.”