Page 73 of Totally Off Limits

A soft sigh escaped Mickey’s lips. “That’s easier said than done.”

Sierra ran her fingers along Mickey’s forearm for a few quiet seconds. “Didyoudo it? Stand up to your dad?”

The way Mickey’s voice was so calm reminded her that he’d told her recently how he’d made peace with it…how he’d tried to build a bridge but his dad just wasn’t interested—and it seemed as though Sage’s parents had become surrogates of sort. “Yeah, I did. It was when we were freshman. In a lot of ways, I was still a kid…but I was strong. In PE, we were weightlifting and I could literallyseemy muscles getting bigger. And I felt more masculine, you know, in a dominant kind of way. I don’t know. Maybe that doesn’t make sense. But I’d always been kind of a scrapper. It was the only way to get kids to leave me alone. Plus I was starting to feel this unhinged rage against my dad.”

As Mickey described it, Sierra thought it was a wonder he turned out to be the kind of guy he had. A childhood like that could have easily made him a criminal—or a real son of a bitch. Instead, he was the complete opposite of what she ever would have expected.

“And one day, I got home and I made a couple of sandwiches. Back then, I could eat half a cow and still be hungry. When he got home, he was pissed because there was only one slice of baloney left, and he raised his fist and swung—but I ducked and grabbed his arm and as he tried to jerk it back, I held on tight and the whole time we were in this kind of holding pattern. Finally, I was getting tired, so I, like, pushed his arm back at him, throwing him off balance. He didn’t fall, and he was pissed, but before he could raise that arm again, I pointed at him and said, ‘If you ever hit me again, I will fucking tear you apart’.”

Sierra felt a shiver crawl up her spine, and she pressed her back against Mickey’s warm torso. “And he never hit you again?”

“Yes and no. But I didn’t know at the time how much that had changed our…relationship. When it happened, I turned around and walked to my room, trying to look all tough, but inside I was scared shitless. I was convinced he was going to pounce on my ass and really let me have it. Or kill me. By that point, though, I just didn’t care anymore. I was tired of being afraid and I was tired of being hurt. That night, I barely slept, but I didn’t leave my room. I even pissed out the window. I pushed my dresser against the door, not that it could have kept him out, but it would have given me time to prepare. When I got up and got ready the next morning, I ate a piece of toast and left, but I wound up not going to school. I snuck back around through the alley and watched the house, and when he left for work, I went inside and slept all day. He didn’t talk to me for almost a week and, when he finally did, he acted like nothing ever happened.

“After that, we actually brawled a lot. I think he liked it.”

“Is that why you moved out?”

“Partly. But mostly I got tired of having to depend on him for food and shelter and whatever else he thought I hadearned.” Mickey was quiet for a bit, and just about the time Sierra was going to ask a question, he spoke again. “I know you’re not supposed to say things about the dead, but I don’t care. My dad was a horrible human being. He drove my mom away and he drove me away, and he did it all to himself. I know he thought he was making me tough so I could survive, but it was bullshit.” Sierra could barely hear him as he said, “If I ever have kids, I will never raise a hand to them. And I’ll never make them feel like they’re pieces of shit.”

Oh, God. Little did he know, hedidhave a child…and he’d already made her feel special, even not knowing.

Rolling around in his arms, Sierra kissed him sweetly and softly.

And almost told him everything.

Fortunately, she caught herself. “When are you guys leaving? You said you had to record your album, right?”

“Yeah. When Johnny first brought us to his place, he’d planned on doing everything there, including recording and mixing and shit. But then he decided it was just a great place to create. So we’ve done that, and we’re going to a studio to record everything, first week of July.”

Why was she sad that he was going to leave soon? Hadn’t she been telling herself she had to end it? Wouldn’t this be the perfect way?

Kiss goodbye and go their separate ways. Sierra would either finish school and move somewhere out of her parents’ reach or she’d marry Austin and have the life they wanted for her.

Either way, Mickey would be out of the picture.

So she had to stop imagining that it could work.

“That’s next week.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, the first is—”

He kissed her hard then, distracting her from her words and, at first, she thought maybe they would make love one last time. Instead, when he removed his lips, he said, “Tell me about Mia’s childhood so far. I know you’re a good mom…but tell me why her dad’s not part of her life.”

It was as if she’d swallowed an anvil, the heavy nauseous feeling that settled in her belly as soon as he finished his sentence.

She could tell the truth.

Well…almost. “It was a one-night thing.”

“That’s fair,” he said, running his index finger down her arm from her shoulder to her elbow. “But if I was that guy, I’d wanna know anyway.” His dark eyes shifted to hers then, and Sierra couldn’t trust herself.

Did he know? Had he figured it out?

As if to remind her all that was at stake, her heart started beating noticeably. But over the years, Sierra had gotten good at deflecting, misdirecting.

Lying.

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