Page 70 of Hideaway Whirlwind
Though I’m of the same mind—Storm is part of our family—I tell him, “She belonged with Peter’s dad, and I know Peter must miss her terribly. He’s been looking for her ever since she went missing, so letting her go home with him is the right thing to do.”
“I don’t care,” he says with an angry pout.
Again, I agree, but since I want to be the kind of father he deserves and set a good example, I say, “I bet Storm misses him too.”
That does the trick, and Dustin falls into my arms. His tears just about undo me, and it takes every bit of my willpower to stand and command Storm to release, then swing open the front door.
Maybe ten to fifteen years younger than me, Peter isn’t exactly a small man, only a few inches and pounds smaller, wearing khakis and a puffer vest over a long-sleeved turtle neck. Yet he quickly steps back, his eyes going to my neck before traveling up. I’m sure my unfriendly expression isn’t helping matters. Neither is Dustin’s, though he doesn’t yet again threaten to murder the man. That’s progress.
“Uh, Elliott?” When I grunt, he rubs his hands together, his wavy ginger hair styled neatly. “I’m Peter Jones.”
Instead of inviting him inside with words, at risk of shooting him myself if he doesn’t get off my property, I step back, holding the door open.
He almost reluctantly steps inside, greeted by Birdie with our daughters standing beside her, all their arms crossed, hips cocked, sporting the same glare. It’s adorable, and I wish Icould have taken a picture before Birdie snaps out of it when Peter clears his throat nervously.
Neither he nor Storm moves toward each other. Her tail is wagging, though, and her hackles have lowered when he says, “Heya, Daisy.” Other than that, she doesn’t react to his presence, which is odd.
He notices my silent assessment. “Pops adopted her long after I moved away, so we aren’t all that familiar.”
“Right, uh, I’m Teagan. It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” Birdie says, shaking his hand.
“Likewise.” Peter gives her a winning smile. I don’t like it. “You’re Elliott’s daughter?” he asks, rocking back and forth on his nice sneakers as if he’s shy. I don’t like that either.
I hold back a huff, closing the door. “She’s my wife.”Fiancée, technically, but she might as well be. It’s a done deal, as far as I’m concerned.
Peter’s mouth gapes open in shock. “Really?” He coughs into his fist. “I meant, uh…” his clean-shaven cheeks puff up, and he blows out a breath, chuckling uneasily.
Birdie motions to the couch. “Why don’t we sit?”
When we take our seats, all of us staring silently at Peter, he unzips his vest, sweat breaking out on his shiny forehead. “Sure is warm in here.”
“It is,” I say, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling my sleeves up so he can get a good look at the bloody, sharpened screwdriver tattooed on my right forearm and an ex-inmate’s decaying face with his lips sewn shut on my left.
Peter grows increasingly jittery, and Storm goes to sit in front of Birdie instead of him when he holds his hands out to pet her. He straightens, his eyes on Storm’s distended teats on her belly. “Did she have puppies?”
I nod, and Dustin slips out of the room to retrieve Rain and Sky from my bedroom, where they’d been napping.
“They’re too young to be separated,” Birdie says, “so you’d have to take them, too.”
“No!” Sydney cries, turning on her mama, as does Dustin when he returns with both puppies tucked under his arms. “He can’t do that! They’re ours!”
Kendall immediately begins screaming and crying too, cycling her legs in the air until Birdie sets her down, and she toddles over to her siblings.
I curl my fists on my thighs as I stare at the man breaking my kids’ hearts. It’s not his fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’re doing the right thing by reuniting him with Storm. And it’s only for that reason I work to keep calm and ignore the static building in my head when I say, “As you can see, we have grown quite attached to them.” I give myself points for using actual words instead of kicking his ass out.
“Yes, I see that,” Peter says, his Adam’s apple bobbing high in his throat.
I crack my neck from side to side when the kids collapse in a crying heap on the floor with Storm and the puppies. “It would be a shame, though—”
I don’t have to finish the threat that starts to come out, no matter how hard I tried to stop it, when Peter suddenly stands. “Thanks so much for finding Daisy—”
“Her name is Storm!” Sydney yells.
“And giving her a lovely home. My pops would have been happy to see she’s well-loved and taken care of.” He gives a short wave before he all but runs out of the cabin, spraying gravel and gouging out another pit when he whips his car around and speeds away.
“That went well,” Birdie says with a little giggle, circling her arms around me from behind when I close the door that Peter had left open in his hasty exit.
I turn and tip her chin up. “You’re not mad at me?”
