Page 44 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
"Have you ever done anything like that again?" I ask Mitch in particular. "Lost your temper?"
"Never. I know what it seems like, but I'm really not a fly-off-the-handle type of guy. That was just a supremely bad day."
I nod. Keegan used to excuse his temper tantrums and abuse with bad days too. He would hit me and then apologize in tears, telling me that he'd just had a bad day, begging my forgiveness, telling me how much he loved me.
But then eventually, it started to seem like he only had bad days.
“The job offer still stands,” Mitch says. “But I’ll give you time to think about it if you want to reconsider.”
I offer him a smile. “Thank you.” Time, that’s what I need. Time to figure out whether I can really trust these guys as much as I think I can.
Later that night after dinner, I take my dozing daughters to their rooms and return to find the men still at the dinner table discussing something.
“You didn't complete the quota today, Wes” Mitch is saying.
“Get off my ass. You know it’s been a long ass day and I did the best I could."
“Well, try and do better. And Charlie I don’t appreciate you spending half the day in your room when you know you have an order to complete by Monday. What on earth were you even doing in there?”
“Jerking off,” Wes mutters and Charlie’s ears turn pink.
I turn away before the rest of the guys can notice me blushing and I start loading dishes into the dishwasher.
"I'll have it done by Monday," Charlie finally says quietly.
Mitch is quiet for a few seconds. "What the hell is wrong with you guys? Am I the only one who sees how serious this is? How close to the red we are?"
"We said we get it, Mitch," Wes says. "You don't have to keep harping on."
"I'll harp as much as I damn well please when you don't do your fucking job."
“Hey,” I say and they turn to me. “No arguing. You’ll wake up my girls.”
They nod and continue in hushed tones and I smile to myself. They’re actually quite adorable. I've only been here for a little over a week but I’m already learning to handle them. They need a firm hand most of the time, but a softerhand sometimes. Sometimes I bribe them into behaving using little treats. These are usually when I want them to leave their shoes outside, or move furniture for me to clean.
But during the times when I feel the tension rising like they’re about to go at each other’s throats, I nip that right in the bud with a single strict word. And it works like a charm each time.
As they continue discussing their work, night falls and the cicadas begin to chirp. I don't hear any footsteps but the front door suddenly flies open, with a panicky Katie standing there.
“You have to come, Mom," she says. "I think Maddie is having a nightmare."
Dishes and men forgotten, I run out and ahead of Katie back to the cottage. I throw open the door and overhear her sobbing on the bed.
“Maddie,” My heart breaks at the sound of my daughter’s cries. "Oh, baby.”
Her eyes open when I reach her, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mommy."
“Stop crying, baby. Tell me what's wrong."
"It’s daddy," she wails. "He found us and he was hurting you again. I don't want him to hurt you, mommy."
I swallow my emotions, drowning in so much regret. I should have left sooner. I never should have put my daughters through that.
"It was just a dream honey," I tell her. "Daddy is not here. He hasn’t found us. And he’ll never touch me or you again okay?"
"Are you sure Mommy?"
"Of course. Have I ever lied to you?"
