Page 28 of Three More Shots
“I hug her because I missed her so much.”
Rare but sincere emotion, that I know is a thousand percent true, blows through her breathless voice. For all her communication struggles, I know she loves Corinne as much as I do.
“Yeah.” The young lady smiles up at me and then at Ainsley. “Then, after you hug her, where do you go?”
“Home.” Ainsley’s shoulders relax from hunching around her neck, and she actually looks at the girl. For a few seconds anyway. “I want to go home.”
“Then you can hug your mom at your house, and I bet she hugs you right back because she’ll be so happy to see you too.”
No answer this time. I guess she’s thinking the idea over.
“So, will you let Steele Daddy take you to your house so you can hug your mommy?”
Genius. Fucking genius this gal is. Proven when Ainsley nods. She agrees, devoid of any enthusiasm or elation, but at least acceptance, and walks toward the door without another comment or protest. Crystal smiles and waves at us. Glad the issue is resolved without a meltdown. Almost as much as I am because I need to get us both back to Corinne immediately.
We walk through the lobby, out the door, and down the sidewalk. No words or looks between us, but that’s okay. I’m fine and optimistic. Until she bolts ahead of me.Fuck!“Ainsley!”
I’m yelling to my damn self because she ignores me, per usual, and never breaks stride despite me on her heels and Deuce on mine. Fuck, the kid runs fast.
“Jesus, boss. What do we do?”
Fuck if I know. “Keep chasing her, but don’t touch her.”
Because the only person who can isn’t here. God damn it.
I don’t even know how to pray, but somehow, my awkward yet desperate pleas are answered when Ainsley veers to the left and into the playground. Thank fuck the area is fenced in, so now she’s at least trapped. She beelines straight to the jungle gym and grabs handfuls of mulch, throwing the reddish bark against the yellow plastic slide. Over and over until she’s scraping dirt with her fingernails. I know I’m not supposed to interfere, but fuck if it doesn’t destroy me that she’s hurting herself. She winces while her fingertips ram into the ground. “Ainsley, please stop.”
My low voice, heartfelt and compassionate, angers her anyway, and she claws at her face, while her head whips side to side. “Leave me alone!”
“Okay! Okay!”
Fucking Christ. I put my hands up in defeat because I truly am defeated, for the first time ever. Crushed and terrified that I can’t manage someone who weighs sixty pounds. Who breaks my heart as well as her mother’s. Who deserves comfort and solace, but doesn’t know how to give or receive either one.
Holding my ass in place until the bloody trails beginning on her ripped pink skin break me. I refuse to let her injure herself anymore and lunge toward her. She bolts to the swing set, shoving the swings together so they sail side to side, annoying her even more when they whip back toward her and slap against her body. She kicks and hits at the blue seats, full of a rage I can’t comprehend or cease. Sweat begins to pour down her flushed forehead, and she stumbles a few times.
Finally exhausting herself, she collapses onto the rubber padding. Screams carry across the parking lot loud enough for two men walking into Subway to glance over. For the first time in a long time, I’m fucking grateful human apathy wins when they don’t do anything more than look before they enter the restaurant, the rumbling in their bellies more important than investigating potential child abuse.
As deliberate and quiet as I can, I walk toward her, grabbing the chains still flying back and forth above her and bring them to a stop. My presence doesn’t seem to calm or spook her, so I drop down on my haunches and lean against one of the metal bars. Another first for me – sitting on the ground in a five-thousand-dollar suit to keep her company.
Deuce can’t believe it either, but seems relieved to slide his ass on the bench by the park entrance. Both of us keeping a mute vigil until I can figure out what the fuck to do next.
Which, at this point, I’ve got nothing. Can’t come up with anything better than wait and watch – her and my men on the perimeter guarding us as the vehicles drive by, in out of the fast food places, on each side of us. Her wails start to soften, and she finally quiets down. Then she sniffs. A lot. But I can’t risk offering to wipe her nose or brush away her tears. She sits up, both of us lucky as fuck she misses bumping her head by just a few inches and avoids igniting another tantrum, and glances over at me. Quickly she twists her head in the other direction. Still full of defiant panic, but at least she accepts me being near. I try to channel Corinne as best I can, mimicking what I think she would do, how she would act, what she would say.
And, of course, I’ve still got fucking nothing because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing really.
Yet Ains shocks me when she scoots closer. The wooden pellets rustle under her jeans as she scooches toward me with her gaze on her little purple and white sneakers. Inches at a time before finally pausing to see my reaction when she brushes my shoe.
“Steele Daddy?”
Fuck me.“Yes?”
“I don’t like it when the cars honk.”
What the hell? “Me neither.”
Tiny fingers curl around my pinkie like before, and I rejoice with relief.
“It’s too loud.”
