Page 60 of One More Heartbeat
Athena’s brow scrunches, and she straightens to a stand. “Bad-antelope? Is that Oregon slang for something?”
Garrett laughs, the sound abrupt. “I think Zara was sparing Peony from learning a word you don’t want her repeating.” He spells out badass.
That gets a grin out of Athena. “Yes, I would love to be a bad-antelope,” she tells him. To me she says, “Are you sure you’ll be okay looking after Peony?” She bites her lip, looking far from convinced.
“I love kids. And I have a niece who’s a little younger than Peony.” Well, more like five months younger. “We’ll be fine. Go!”
Athena touches Peony’s arm, distracting Peony from her game of putting colorful Band-Aids on the stuffed animals’ legs. “I’m going somewhere with your daddy for a little bit, and Zara”—she points at me—“willplay with you while I’m gone.” She strokes Peony’s head. “You be good for her, okay?”
The adorable toothy smile Peony flashes her makes my heart go a little gooey.
Athena kneels next to Peony. “Do I get a bye-bye hug?”
Peony scrambles to her feet and gives Athena a big hug, almost knocking her off-balance.
Athena kisses her on the crown of her head. “Give your daddy a bye-bye hug?”
Without looking at Garrett, Peony shakes her head, her declaration firm, and returns to playing with the stuffed animals.
A flare of hurt clouds his expression, and I ache to reassure him things will be okay. After everything he’s done for her so far, she’s got to see just how wonderful the man standing in front of us is. He’s not a man to fear. He’s a man to respect. To appreciate. To love.
Oh, screw it.
I push to my feet, my back and hips grumbling a little louder this time. Kids learn by example, so…
I throw my arms around Garrett, hugging him like I’ve done so many times. His arms, thick with muscle, strong with heart, embrace me. And like every other time I’ve hugged him, his arms feel like home.
“Thanks,” he murmurs in my ear, his deep voice igniting a round of fireworks throughout my body. “I needed that.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, holding on to him for a beat longer than is probably necessary to prove my point. Afraid to meet his eyes and risk him seeing how I really feel about him.
I step away and glance down at Peony. She’s not paying attention to us, engrossed with putting each of her stuffed animals on the couch, one by one. So much for that idea.
“Bye-bye, Peony,” Athena says, moving away from the couch.
Peony turns long enough to wave and grin at her, seemingly not at all worried that Athena’s leaving her with me.
The garage door clicks shut behind Athena and Garrett, and I lower to the floor to play with Kenda’s daughter. I have so many questions Iwant to ask her about her mama. So many things I want to know about Kenda’s final days.
But even if I did dare ask Peony, she’s only eighteen months old. She doesn’t have the communication skills to tell me everything I want to know.
Only Athena can tell me, but there’s something about her I can’t put my finger on. Something I can’t quite puzzle out. It’s like there’s a wall between us. A wall that is completely her doing, but I don’t know what’s compelled her to erect it.
Oh, I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with her moving to a small town where she doesn’t know anyone?
Or maybe it has something to do with her losing her employer and friend to the senselessness of gun violence.
Beyoncé’srich voice flows from the speakers as Peony and I dance to “Spirit.” My body is less stiff now than it was while I was reading to her on the couch. My hips and lower-back muscles were so tight, I could barely push to a stand without wincing.
Peony giggles and bounces on the spot, Poppy tucked in the crook of her arm. My feet and arms move in time to the beat, the words and music reaching down to my soul. The low light streaming through the windows wraps me in nature’s spotlight. I laugh.
I close my eyes, embracing the First Lady of Music’s lyrics, and lift my arms above my head. A sharp pain slams my shoulders at the movement, and I grimace, dropping my arms to my sides.
“Nina!” Peony rushes toward the entrance to the living room.
Athena scoops her up, and Peony loops her arms around her neck, almost strangling her. Athena laughs and kisses her cheek. Not once does Peony acknowledge her father, who walked into the living room behind Athena.
“How did it go?” Garrett asks me, smiling as if Peony’s snub doesn’thurt, but his eyes tell me otherwise. The bruise of emotion is slight, the wisp of a cloud. Recognizable only to those who know him well.
