Chapter 2

Reece

 

A week later

 

“Please, Dad? Could you just ask him?” LJ looked like a deranged long-haired lap dog. The wiry curls of some braids had come completely undone and were a tangled ball. Other braids were still half done but sticking up at odd angles. Multi-colored barrettes dotted the curly mess. Fixing this was beyond Reece’s parenting abilities.

Reece rubbed a hand over his face as he sat at their round dinner table. He knew what he needed to do. But he shouldn’t, even if he secretly wanted to. Looking at LJ’s pleading puppy-dog eyes as they ate their dinner decided his course of action.

There was a good chance the handsome beautician downstairs would curse him out if he asked him to tidy up LJ’s disheveled braids. Without an appointment. After hours. He shoveled a forkful of pot roast in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and avoiding LJ’s gaze.

He’d meant to make an appointment with Tate. He really had. But the week had gotten away from him. Work had been busy, and school had been demanding, and suddenly Thursday happened—the day before LJ’s field trip which also happened to be the day after yet another football practice. Which meant, once again, his daughter had a serious case of helmet hair. Why had he agreed to let her play football again?

The truth was Reece had a massive crush on Tate. He was nervous about knocking on his door tonight, because he was afraid of making a fool of himself. Each time he’d interacted with Tate, his palms sweat and his stomach clenched. Then the man had caught him staring a few times, which embarrassed the shit out of Reece. Hell, even his daughter had noticed. Reece recalled their conversation from last week, as he’d sat on LJ’s mattress right before bedtime, shortly after Tate had gone back downstairs.

“Do you think Mr. Tate is cute, Dad?” LJ’s directness and her awareness of his bisexuality stunned him. He’d never spoken to her about it.

“Um—I—ah—” He struggled with how to answer that question, but LJ helped him along, arranging her stuffed animals and dolls around her in bed as she got to the point.

“You like girls and boys, right?” Once the toys were placed where she wanted them, she made herself more comfortable in the twin bed, burrowing beneath her Seahawks comforter as though she hadn’t just upended Reece’s belief of how she viewed him. As though it wasn’t a big deal to her. Was it?

“Who told you that I like boys and girls?” He answered her question with a question of his own, anxious to learn how LJ had made this determination and why. Her gaze strayed toward the floor before meeting his eyes again, her brows furrowed.

“Grandpa and Grandma Warren.”

Reece’s shoulders drooped. Figured his ex-girlfriend’s parents would talk shit about him around his own kid. The two were devout Christians—religious extremists in his personal opinion. When they’d first started dating, Jenna had been in a rebellious stage, and she’d loved throwing his bisexuality in her parents’ faces. They hated him.  

Reece swallowed, afraid to ask the next question for fear of what LJ’s answer might be. “Does it bother you?” he asked, then clarified. “Does it bother you that I like boys and girls?” Reece held his breath.

LJ tilted her head and wrinkled her nose. “No. I think you should like whoever you want to like.”

Reece grabbed LJ’s foot under the comforter, his relief and pride at her words filling him with a need to be physically connected to her. He’d had to buy her new shoes before school started. She was growing like a weed…getting older. He never wanted LJ to be ridiculed because of his personal choices. He searched her face, still unable to see anything but certainty in her response. Somehow talking to his eight-year-old about his sexuality terrified him more than coming out to his mama had.

Reece smiled. “Really?”

LJ nodded again, looking pensive. “Yeah. Dallas, he sits by me in my class, he has two moms.”

Reece squeezed her foot again and quirked an eyebrow in genuine interest. He’d heard about Dallas but not about his two moms. “He does?”

LJ gave a single nod. He was relieved that Dallas having two moms didn’t seem like a big deal to LJ, especially considering how little time and influence he’d had in her life until recently. 

He’d been the weekend parent up until three months ago, even though he’d asked Jenna several times for an official custody agreement that split LJ’s time more evenly. But the Warrens had always gotten in the way, wielding their influence over Jenna since they paid a portion of her rent and her car note.

“Some of the kids are mean to Dallas,” LJ said, a frown creasing her brow. “But me and Jason and Esmé, and Lena and Maurice, we’re friends with him. Sometimes people have two moms or two dads or can be adopted. Or they just have grandparents or one mom or dad. Or even a stepmom or stepdad.” LJ stopped for breath and turned on her side.

LJ’s thoughtfulness and the way her mind worked overwhelmed Reece. Her big heart and how she stood up for her friend. He was so proud that she was his kid and his chest swelled at her accepting nature. The Warrens hadn’t poisoned her mind with their hatefulness before he had finally gone to court and gotten custody of her.

He took a deep breath, grazed her round cheek with his thumb, his pride in her giving him the courage to finally answer her question. “Yeah, LJ. Daddy likes boys and girls.”

LJ gave him a big grin, her front teeth dominating her smile. “I knew it.” She laughed. “You guys were making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

Reece laughed. “No, we weren’t.”

LJ lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, you were, Dad. Oooh! You should take Mr. Tate on a date. Haha, that rhymed. Take Mr. Tate on a date! Take Mr. Tate-on-a-date,” she sing-songed, shaking her shoulders in a little dance.

Reece tickled her until she cried with laughter and begged him stop before he tucked her back in and cut off the light.

He shook his head at the memory, refocusing on the present as he scooped the last of his pot roast off his plate and shoved it into his mouth. His daughter’s previous teasing and current cajoling made Tate think she had ulterior motives for begging him to ask Tate to do her hair again. Was he really so pathetic in the dating department that his eight-year-old had to hook him up? Apparently so.

LJ squeezed her hands together in front of her chest like she was praying. “Please, Daddy?”

Reece snorted. “Now, I’m Daddy, huh?”

LJ stuck up a finger. “None of the YouTube videos work, Dad. And Nana Darlene has work, so she can’t do it. Last time I went to school with messed up hair a lot of the kids stared at me.” She held up a third finger then balled up her small fist, dropping it to her lap.

Reece sighed. She wasn’t exaggerating. She’d been a little withdrawn when he’d picked her up from school on a day after her hair had been messed up because of practice. He knew she’d been embarrassed.

The little knucklehead gave him a sly grin. “Maybe if you ask Mr. Tate on a date, he won’t be so cranky and he’ll do my hair?”

Reece snapped, “And what makes you think he’d even want a date with me anyway?”

“’Cause he looked at you the same way you looked at him,” LJ said matter-of-factly.

“And how is that exactly?”

LJ did what he assumed was an impression of the way he and Tate had allegedly checked each other out. She pursed her lips, looked at Reece, then turned her head away quickly, then snapped her head back toward Reece again from head to toe.

“That’s how you both looked at each other,” she said, shrugging, stuffing her mouth with the last of her roast.

Well. Damn.

He pushed away from the table, rising to his feet. “Well, I’m not doing this alone. Put your shoes on. We’re going downstairs.”

LJ jumped up, squealed, and was at the door, feet stuffed in her shoes, before Reece could finish turning off the lights and the Thursday night football flickering on the TV in the background.

A few minutes later, he and LJ were standing in front of a surly Tate at his apartment.

“What happened to this child’s hair?”

LJ dug the toe of her sneaker into the ground, hands stuffed in her hoodie. “Football practice, Mr. Tate.”

“No.” He slowly shook his head. “My eyelids hurt I’m so tired. My feet are throbbing across the top. I am off the clock and not in the mood.” Tate crossed his arms over his chest but made no move to close his door.

The sharp definition of Tate’s arms where his biceps bunched made Reece shiver with the desire to touch Tate. Reece focused on not staring too much, but all that warm earthy brown skin on display, the white of Tate’s tank highlighting the deep rich hue of the exposed skin, was distracting. Reece’s dick twitched at the thought of running his hands along Tate’s exposed skin but then remembered that his daughter was with him and took a deep breath and refocused. He mirrored Tate’s stance.

“I know you said not to make a habit of this, and I’m not,” Reece said.

Tate gave him a disbelieving glare.

“I swear.” Reece put both palms up in front of him. “But it’s an emergency—”

Tate crooked his neck. “Seems like it’s always an emergency with you two—”

Reece put a hand on LJ’s thin shoulder as she leaned against his hip, pleading their case. “She has a field trip tomorrow.”

LJ nodded. “Yeah, to the zoo.”

Tate just shook his head. “Nope. Absolutely not. By. Appointment. Only.” Tate raised his eyebrows, putting both hands on his hips as if daring them to argue with him.

Even as Tate chewed him out, Reece couldn’t help but admire the dude. Tate had looked edible in his tight jeans and heels the first time they’d met at the shop, but he even looked good dressed down. The loose sweats outlined a hint of his crotch, and Reece stirred again as he wondered whether Tate wore underwear beneath the cotton. Tate’s nipples pebbled against the worn cotton of his tank as he shivered from the fall breeze that blew through the open corridor. Reece shivered too but not from the cold air. Tate looked good. Despite the frost Tate threw his way, Reece didn’t regret coming downstairs to get a glimpse of his sexy neighbor again.

“Please, Mr. Tate?” LJ asked, light-brown eyes huge.

His daughter’s desperate voice pulled him from his dirty thoughts.

She batted her thick lashes, pulling out all the tricks she used to get her way. “The last time I went to school after Dad combed my hair, everyone stared at me and some kids laughed too.” She glanced down at her beat-up Converse.

LJ’s story of woe worked its magic, and Tate let out a long and agitated sigh.

“Lord help me, I’m a sucker for a sob story,” he said. He narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze between Reece and LJ, who had perked up a little but still looked sufficiently sad about the prospect of not getting her hair re-braided. Tate pointed at her. “I’m not washing your hair tonight, so I hope it isn’t too sweaty—”

LJ jumped up and down, chanting, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

“Ooomph,” he said as LJ smacked into his waist and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, making Reece’s lip twitch in amusement.

“I really appreciate this, Tate,” Reece said. Tate didn’t look half as annoyed as he’d tried to sound moments ago. In fact, he gave LJ a squeeze before extricating himself from her hold on his midriff.

“Yeah, well, I hope you have cash on you,” Tate said.

Reece’s stomach flipped with queasiness. Of course, he couldn’t expect Tate to do LJ’s hair for free. But he couldn’t afford to pay even half of what he’d paid last time. He hadn’t even thought of how much it would cost when he’d walked down.

Tate must have seen the worry on Reece’s face. “I won’t charge the same rate since I’m not washing her hair this time.”

Reece rubbed his chin, mentally calculating how much he had in his checking account. “How much?”

Tate told him the price, and his stomach turned again in humiliation. Most of his money was already spoken for by the time he got paid because he made just above minimum wage at his blue collar job. He’d overspent the last time he’d paid to have LJ’s hair done. He looked down at LJ, feeling inadequate and questioning whether he was capable of raising her.

He couldn’t even figure out how to comb her hair himself. And he certainly couldn’t afford to have it done professionally even once a week. God, he felt like such a fucking loser. And to think he’d even entertained the idea of asking Tate to go out with him sometime. He could barely take care of his kid, what the hell did he have to offer anyone else?

He suddenly had the urge to go back upstairs and hide in his room for the rest of the week, the heat of embarrassment engulfing him. He put his hand on LJ’s shoulder and maneuvered her toward the stairs.

“Sorry to have bothered you, Tate. Come on, LJ. I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can just wash it and you can wear it down? Okay?”

LJ tugged out of Reece’s grip, facing him. “But, Dad, we tried that last time and it was puffy on one side. I can stay with Mr. Tate while you go to the bank and get money from the machine.”

Reece floundered for an explanation as to why LJ couldn’t get her hair done tonight. Tate spoke up.

“Look if you’re not comfortable going to the bank, maybe we can work something else out?”

Reece looked up. Tate was staring at him, eyes wide, head inclined, a brow raised.

He’d somehow read Reece’s predicament and offered him an out. I get it, Tate’s eyes said. Even more surprising was the warmth in those eyes. The absence of judgment. He’d saved Reece the shame of having to reveal how dire his financial situation was. If it was possible, he fell a little more in “like” with the beautician.

Reece cleared his throat. “So, uh, what did you have in mind?”

Tate wrapped his arms around his midriff. “Well, based on all the noise you were making upstairs last week, you’re pretty handy. I can braid singles and cornrows all day, but don’t ask me to put together a piece of IKEA furniture. I have two dressers and a pretty sizeable wall unit. Put them together and we’ll call it even.”

Reece smiled and stuck out his had to shake on it. “Deal.”

A half hour later, Reece looked up from where he was putting together a dresser in the living room, slightly facing Tate and LJ. He took in Tate’s profile while the man sat on the couch, LJ on a small step stool, her back to Tate, as he brushed her hair. Reece’s limbs warmed at the sight. After Reece and LJ had retrieved the little girl’s barrette box and his toolbox from upstairs, Tate had directed Reece to several boxes of unopened IKEA furniture piled off to the side of the living room. Reece got right to work, looking around Tate’s apartment as he opened the boxes in front of him. 

He was surprised to find Tate’s apartment devoid of the life and character his salon was full of. The apartment walls were bare and stark. The black and gray furniture was the exact opposite of the bright and colorful salon and owner. There were several sealed boxes around the living room that looked like they were moving boxes. Maybe Tate had moved in recently?

Reece put down the two pieces of wood he’d been notching together. The thought of Tate down here in this soulless empty apartment bothered him, and he couldn’t really explain why. But it motivated Reece to put together as much of the IKEA furniture for Tate as he could. Reece wanted this space to be welcoming and inviting to the guy who had, despite all his bluster, helped Reece and his daughter when they’d really needed it.

Reece grabbed the two pieces of wood he had set aside briefly and joined them. The first dresser had been fairly small but this one was wider. He caught snippets of Tate’s conversation with LJ as he worked.

“So,” Tate said. Reece looked up briefly as Tate parted LJ’s hair before rubbing some oil onto her exposed scalp. “What animals are you excited to see at the zoo tomorrow?”

Reece pushed a cam lock into one of the dresser parts then looked up again to see Tate dip a bristled brush into a shallow bowl of water that Tate had brought in from the kitchen and set on the coffee table before starting LJ’s hair. Tate brushed LJ’s strands into submission with the damp brush.

The little girl hummed. “The flamingos. I want to know how they stand on one leg all day. I would get tired if I did that.”

Reece smiled and looked up from his building again, catching Tate’s nimble fingers stop mid-braid and he cocked his head to the side. “You know, that’s a good question.” He continued braiding, forehead still creased in thought. Reece grabbed another cam lock and pushed it into a piece of wood. “I heard that flamingos don’t even fly,” Tate said.

“Nope,” LJ answered. “My dad looked that up. They can fly but mostly at nighttime. Right, Dad? Isn’t that what Alexa said?” Reece lifted his head as LJ looked over at him making Tate lose the grip he had on a section of hair.

Tate gently directed her head forward and down so he could continue his braiding, and Reece dropped his own head, focusing on the dresser again. “Keep your head still, ladybug. Now, who is Alexa?”

Reece grinned at Tate’s tight tone but kept his gaze on the two pieces of faux wood that he was slotting together.

“It’s a lady, on the cell phone, or a little round thing you can put in your house. And she talks to you,” explained LJ.

Reece looked up to find Tate frowning in confusion, the brush beside him on the couch, his motion stilled. “You know. Alexa. The app? You ask her questions and she answers.”

“My Nana Darlene has one,” LJ added.

Tate cackled, picking up the brush again and dipping it in the water again. “Well, the next time you talk to her, ask which birds don’t fly. Maybe it’s the turkey?”

“No,” said Reece, struggling with a particularly stubborn screw. “It’s the ostrich you’re thinking of.”

“Yes,” Tate exclaimed. Reece looked up from his project to find a beaming Tate with the hairbrush thrust up in the air in victory and LJ giggling. “That’s the dang bird I was thinking of.”

Reece met Tate’s grin with one of his own. It was probably the first time he’d seen the man really smile. Tate’s smile lit him from the inside, making him glow. Reece loved it. His skin pebbled from the sight.

“What’s an ostrich, Mr. Tate? It’s a bird too?” LJ asked.

Tate guided LJ’s head back down as he parted her hair into another section. “Yeah, it’s a kind of bird. They don’t fly but they run fast. And they’ve got big bodies with long legs and great eyelashes.”

At Reece’s chuckle, Tate looked over at him, his fingers gliding rhythmically around the three sections of hair he was pulling into a braid.

“What?”

Reece grinned, picking up the instruction manual to see what part he needed to put together next. “Big bodies, long legs, and great eyelashes. You just made the ostrich sound like someone you’d want to message on Grindr.”

Tate laughed, parting another section of LJ’s hair and greasing her scalp. “Well, the ostrich is an attractive bird. And hell, that description does kind of fit the profile of my last date now that I think about it. He wasn’t much of a runner… He was little roided out to be honest.”

“You like boys too, Mr. Tate?” LJ asked.

The hammer Reece had lifted to tap a stubborn cam lock flew out of his hand and thumped to the carpet as he looked up at his daughter in embarrassment, his cheeks warming. Reece met Tate’s gaze, the man’s face full of uncertainty and maybe even fear. Reece hated that Tate would even consider that Reece might be hostile toward him because of his sexuality.

Sure, Tate had been a little glammed up the day that they’d met, and Reece had assumed the man was gay. But Tate hadn’t volunteered that information, and Reece hadn’t asked, but having Tate’s sexuality addressed out in the open clearly made Tate ill at ease.

Reece cleared his throat. “LJ—” he began, but his daughter plowed forward.

“My dad likes boys and girls.”

Reece watched Tate roll his lips together before the man began braiding again. “Is that right, LJ?”

The little girl started to nod but stopped herself. “Yep. Maybe you can date him? He’s got long legs and lashes. My Nana Darlene says she’d kill for his eyelashes, but I don’t think she should do that, though.”

Reece’s face heated fast from embarrassment. He didn’t feel any better when he caught Tate grinning at him, his body shaking with suppressed laughter. Then his insides lurched. Was Tate amused because the idea of going on a date with Reece laughable?

“That’s enough, Lettie Jean,” he admonished gruffly. The little girl looked over at him, eyes wide, and even Tate’s motions stopped. “It is not okay to ask people about their dating life. It is rude. That’s personal. Do you understand?”

LJ’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, Dad,” she mumbled before looking up at Tate. “Sorry, Mr. Tate.”

Tate met her gaze and tweaked her nose with his thumb and index finger, making her grin. “It’s okay, ladybug.” He put his fingertips to her temples and turned her head. “Head forward so we can finish.” Tate looked forward, spine stiff, hands moving on autopilot, before his gaze skittered over toward Reece again.

Tate looked like he wanted to say something else, but Reece was afraid of what that might be after the way the man had laughed at the prospect of dating him. Reece looked back down at the structure he was working on, avoiding Tate’s nervous glances.

“For the record, LJ,” Tate said in a low voice, his eyes completely focused on LJ’s hair, “I do like boys. And I’d go out with your dad.”

LJ giggled. “I told him to ask you, Mr. Tate.”

Reece had once again abandoned the work in front of him, his lips parted slightly in surprise.

Tate looked over at Reece, his gaze running over Reece’s body like a caress. Despite once again wanting to sink into the floor—his daughter’s direct nature was truly a gift and a curse—Reece couldn’t look away.

The corner of Tate’s mouth quirked up. “You did? Well, hopefully he takes your advice.” 

 

***

The following Monday

 

“Make sure you’re putting stain remover on this girl’s clothing. She’s always playing in the dirt or covered in grass stains.”

Reece chewed on his bottom lip at his mama’s nitpicking while the woman helped LJ gather her things around the living room of her home. Darlene picked LJ up from school and babysat her on the evenings Reece had class.

“Lord knows your broke behind can’t afford new school clothes,” she continued, grabbing LJ’s various workbooks off the coffee table and stuffing them in LJ’s Seahawks backpack. Reece didn’t miss the glare that LJ sent Nana Darlene’s way. He was just as annoyed at his mother’s nagging, but he was also too exhausted from work and his evening classes at the local community college to argue with her. Besides, her shitting on him was nothing new. Over the years, he’d learned arguing with her encouraged her to find more things to criticize.

Having located all of LJ’s debris and packed it in her backpack, Darlene turned on him, hands on her hips. “And really, Reece? You’re letting my granddaughter play football?”

LJ tugged on her Nana’s sweater. “But, Nana Darlene, I thought you liked football?” Reece’s mama was, in fact, a diehard Raiders fan.

Darlene narrowed her eyes at LJ. “I do. What I don’t like is my grandbaby out there with all those rough boys, getting run over.” She turned her piercing gaze on Reece. “And aren’t you worried about all this research coming out about concussions? I don’t want my grandbaby getting that CEE.”

Reece stuffed his hands in his pockets. “CTE, Mama. It’s CTE and only people who have been playing for years get CTE. Yes, I’m concerned, but I did my research and the kids tackle different now so there’s less chance she’ll get hurt. Besides, she could just as easily get concussed from playing soccer or volleyball or getting pelted with a softball. Hell, she could get concussed from basketball.”

Darlene huffed. “But she’s out there getting tackled by a bunch of little boys.”

LJ tilted her head. “I actually tackle, Nana, ’cause I’m a DB.”

Reece couldn’t help but smile. The kid was pretty good at taking down running backs if he did say so himself. His mother quickly burst his bubble.

“I don’t care. It’s not ladylike. And it’s only going to get more dangerous as she gets older.”

Ladylike. Said the woman who cursed like a sailor when she watched basketball and football games.

Darlene did have a point about it being dangerous, but when he’d agreed to let LJ play peewee football, he’d decided it would only be until she was ten at most. He’d played when he was her age up until his freshman year in high school, and he remembered the hits getting harder as he got older.

He liked to think of himself as a progressive person, and he wanted his daughter to play whatever sport she wanted, male-dominated or not. But if he had a son, he wouldn’t want him to play football through middle and high school because of the risk of injury. He and Darlene were in agreement on this, though he’d let hell freeze over before he told her so. And his agreeing with her didn’t change the way her words sliced into his confidence like a jagged blade with every criticism she leveled.

She put out a hand, gesturing toward LJ’s hair. “And just what the hell have you been doing with this child’s hair?” Apparently, she wasn’t done cutting him up yet. “Nothing. That’s what. I went on ahead and braided it. Try to keep it neat. It looked great on picture day, and even last Friday when she went on her field trip to the zoo.” Reece had text messaged Darlene a couple of photos both mornings because LJ wanted Darlene to see her outfits. “I figured you finally found a YouTube video that worked for you.”

LJ grinned, putting her arms through her backpack straps. “No, Nana, Mr. Tate did it for me. He did it for picture day at his shop. Then we went downstairs to his house before my field trip and he braided it again while Dad built his dressers.”

Reece avoided his mom’s gaze and propelled LJ toward the door. “Okay, LJ. Dad and Nana have both had a long day, and it’s close to your bedtime. Let’s head home.”

They hadn’t gotten more than two steps out of the living room before Darlene darted ahead of them, blocking the path to the front door, feet slightly spread. “Oh no you don’t. Just who is this Mr. Tate? And why are you putting furniture together for him in his apartment while he does my granddaughter’s hair?”

Reece pursed his lips then cut his eyes down at his daughter who gave him a sheepish look. They weren’t leaving the premises until Reece spilled his guts.

“He’s a hairdresser,” Reece explained, crossing his arms. “He owns his own shop—Pearl’s Hair and Nails. He did LJ’s hair after her practice, before picture day.” Reece smiled, hoping he had offered Darlene enough information to satisfy her nosy nature so he could bail.

Darlene folded her arms over her ample stomach. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up in his apartment.”

“That time was an emergency,” LJ informed Darlene, her face serious.

Darlene gave them both a look of exasperation.

“LJ had a field trip to the zoo on Friday. Her hair looked crazy. You know how it looks after practice,” Reece said, shrugging. Darlene inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Anyway, Tate agreed to tidy up her hair if I put together some IKEA furniture for him.”

“IKEA furniture?” Darlene exclaimed. “Hell, you should have gotten at least two more hair braiding sessions out of him for that. Those damn directions don’t even have words on them. I mean, really, no words on the instruction manual? Why even include the damn thing?”

Reece had hoped Darlene’s outrage about the ineffectiveness of IKEA instructions was enough to distract her from her uncomfortable line of questioning but there was no escape for him that night.

“So,” she asked, pulling her cardigan closer around her. “This Tate…is he cute?”

“Mama!” Reece’s skin flushed, and he felt about thirteen years old again, Darlene teasing him about his first crush, his next-door neighbor at the time, Felipe. He gave his mother a mutinous stare, fully prepared to keep his mouth shut and force his way out of the house until his darling daughter interjected.

“He’s really pretty, Nana.”

“Oh yeah? Pretty, LJ?” Darlene coaxed.

LJ took the bait. “Yeah, Nana. He wears these really high heels with straps. I don’t think I can walk in shoes like that. And he wears these bright sparkly colors on his eyelids. He likes green, too.”

“Is that so?” Darlene asked.

LJ nodded emphatically. “Yep. And he likes those birds that don’t fly. The ones with the long legs and long eyelashes. Osti—ostris—uh—ostriches! Oh, and he wants to go on a date with Dad but Dad didn’t ask him.”

Reece pursed his lips in dismay. He loved his kid, but damn, did she have a big mouth.

“Well, why didn’t you ask the man on a date?” Darlene demanded, waving her hands.

Reece’s jaw hung open a bit as he struggled to find a perfectly good justification for not asking Tate out, especially after the man had all but guaranteed he wouldn’t shoot Reece down.

Darlene shook her head, pulling her cardigan around her again. “You like women and men and you still haven’t managed to bring home a decent date to Sunday dinner.”

Tate at Sunday dinner with him? Yeah right. “The guy owns his own business. He’s like, completely put together. I just finished my GED three years ago, and I’m still going to community college. I’m hand to mouth each month. What do I have to offer a guy like that? He’s out of my league,” Reece said.

His mother stared at him for a few seconds before throwing up her hands and moving to finally let him and LJ pass.

Reece did a good job of keeping in check his tenderness in the area of his heart at his mom’s tacit agreement with him. Until he got in the car. Once he hopped on the freeway, LJ nodding off as he made his way back to their apartment complex, he let his mask slip, his clenched fingers loosening on the wheel and his furrowed brow relaxing. His chin wobbled and he stopped holding the feelings of insecurity at bay.

Reece really did believe all the reasons he had given his mama for not asking Tate out…But he also wondered why his mama had not gotten that gene that other parents had—the one where they believed in their kids, even when their kids didn’t believe in themselves.

Yeah, Reece was poor, but he worked and had an apartment, went to school. He now had his daughter full time, and they were doing okay. He was trying and he’d been trying from the moment he’d first held LJ in his arms.

But most days, he couldn’t shake his connection to the teenage loser who’d ended up in juvie and missed the birth of his daughter, and Darlene still treated him like that kid too. Like, at any given moment, he’d revert back to the idiot he’d been at sixteen.

At what point would he have proven himself to her? But then, another part of him kind of agreed with her, because she was his mother after all, and she knew him better than anyone else, right? If she thought he was a fuckup, then there must be something to that, right?

Darlene had felt so strongly about his inability to adult that she had insisted on taking LJ full time when he’d rescued the little girl from Jenna’s house. Her words and the way she’d made him feel still cut him. They’d been standing in the kitchen as Darlene had cooked and Reece had washed the dishes she’d already used.

 

“You can’t handle her full time. What are you thinking? She can stay here with me,” Darlene said, shaking her head as she added some broth to the pan of sizzling meat.

Reece stepped back from the sink, anger simmering in the pit of his belly. “Why would I let her stay with you when she could live with me? I’m looking for an apartment on Saturday, something with two bedrooms. Kam is her godfather, and he’s loved having her stay at the place we share but she needs her own room.”

Darlene glanced over her shoulder at him, laughing, then went back to flipping the chicken she was sautéing. “You? Your own apartment? You can barely afford the room you rent from Kam. The apartment isn’t even in your name. Sweetie, you’re a big kid. You’re not a parent.”

Reece’s simmering anger boiled over and rushed through his veins. “Not a parent? I’ve been a parent since the moment I held her in my fucking arms.”

Darlene slammed the tongs she was using on the counter and turned the burner off before meeting his eyes. “Making a baby don’t make you a parent. Dealing with the everyday shit, that makes you a parent. The colds and runny noses. The skinned knees and backtalk. The damn teacher-parent meetings. You get the fun shit, son. The birthday parties and the weekends. You have no idea what it takes to raise a child every day. To be there for them at their worst, not just their best.”

Reece exploded, tossing the dishtowel he’d been holding onto the counter. “Damn it, I want to! I’ve wanted to for the past six years. But Jenna wouldn’t let me. I want to be with LJ every day, skinned knees, snot, and all. And I have been there for her, Mama. LJ called me at probably the worst moment in her short time on this earth, and I went to her. I was there when she needed me.” And he wanted to say that he needed Darlene to be there for him, but he held back, afraid she’d mock him for being needy. What he got instead was her judgment.

She took a step toward him, looking haughty. “And what happens if you screw up again and end up in jail this time? Stop being selfish and think of what happens to LJ when you screw up. If you let me keep her, and you take her on the weekends like you’ve been doing, it would at least provide her with some stability—”

Reece threw his head back, his pulse pounding through his veins as he tried to contain his rage. “I was sixteen years old, Mama, and I haven’t been in trouble since the day I got out, not even a speeding ticket. Why the hell does everyone else think I should be a glorified babysitter to my own damn kid, huh?”

He raised his head and looked over at Darlene who’d gone quiet, her arms crossed mutinously, but Reece was fuming…and hurt. All these years, he’d been trying, doing okay, so he’d thought. But apparently it wasn’t enough.

Then something dawned on him, making his face heat and a lump form in his throat. “All this time. All these years. You just been waiting on me to fuck up. You don’t—you don’t even think I can do this. Not raise LJ, finish school, stay out of trouble. You don’t even think I’m capable.”

Darlene remained silent, her jaw ticcing as she looked at a spot somewhere past his shoulder. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were hard and impenetrable. Reece’s stomach bottomed out, and he snatched in a breath as the lump in his throat grew. He nodded.

“Okay, Mama. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you for Sunday dinner,” he said before kissing her cheek and walking away.

 

That had been three months ago. He’d had to sleep on the couch at his old apartment with Kam so that LJ could have his room, but eventually he’d saved up enough to put down on a place for them and furnish it. His mother had offered to help with LJ here and there in the intervening weeks, and she’d been an immense help once school had started back up for both him and LJ, but they’d never discussed that day. Reece had almost forgotten about it until tonight.

By the time he’d pulled into their complex and parked, he was tired—not just in body, but in spirit. Reece tried to stay positive and convince himself that it didn’t matter what other people thought of him, and most days, he believed it. But then, he had days like the one he’d just had and he doubted everything.

But as he pulled his sleeping daughter out of the car and against his chest, her little arms curling around his neck, his hurt and fear dissipated. She needed him and he didn’t have room to ruminate over his mommy issues. He had a kid to raise.

Climbing the stairs, he heard the faint sounds of television filtering from Tate’s unit. He pushed down any curiosity about what he might be watching. What he wore as he sat on the couch in front of the TV. Whether Tate felt as lonely after he went home from his shop as Reece did after LJ had gone to bed.

Reece rid his mind of those thoughts and feelings and climbed the stairs, shutting the door on the world outside his and his daughter’s sanctuary, their home. Because everything that really mattered to him was inside the walls of this apartment. He kept reminding himself of that throughout the rest of the night until he drifted off to sleep, straining to hear any ribbons of sound from below.