Page 114 of Five Fingers of Death

Sure, she’d smiled before, but nothing like this. No, this was a genuine fucking bright as the sun smile. And it was all because of ice cream. Hell, I needed to get a fucking picture of that. No one would ever believe me if I told them. Not that I would. The image I’d captured in my head was for me and only me.

It never occurred to me that I would actually enjoy these moments back when Lock asked us to watch over Izzy for Knight. In fact, I pretty much thought it would be the worst fucking assignment ever. But there was something about watching a person come back to life that was fucking amazing to watch.

It reminded me of how I got to discover all the ways Carli changed in just the few months I’d had her. I’d missed out on so much already, but I was determined not to miss out on anything else. And now that I saw Izzy eating ice cream for the first time in years, I realized I didn’t want to miss a single fucking thing she rediscovered either.

And that was a fucking problem.

“Daddy, I’m done. Can I go play?”

“Sure, baby girl.”

She hopped off my leg and ran to the slide, climbing up the steps. I knew I had Jack and Johnny watching from a distance, which made it easier to let her play. They’d let me know if there were any signs of trouble.

“She seems to really love you,” Izzy said, watching Carli play. “It must have been hard to find out you had a daughter.”

Leah sitting in that chair with blood dripping from her hair flashed through my mind again, but I shoved it away. Clenching my fists, I focused on the present. “I wish I had known sooner.”

“Why didn’t her mother tell you?”

I knew she was watching me, waiting for me to look at her, but I couldn’t do it. I still held onto so much guilt over Leah’s death, and I knew if I faced her, I’d see disappointment.

“When I was with Leah, I didn’t want any kind of relationship. I made it pretty damn clear to her that I never wanted to see her again. I guess she decided that extended to knowing about my child. Can’t say I blame her,” I added quietly.

“Did you love her?”

I shook my head slowly. “When I went back for her, I thought I did. Hell, I don’t know,” I sighed. “I never gave her a chance.”

Izzy sat quietly beside me, not forcing me to talk about anything else. I appreciated that. She was probably the only person I felt comfortable talking with about Leah, and I could only imagine that was because of all the crap she’d been through. If she could open up to me, I could reciprocate.

“I think you’re doing a great job,” Izzy said after a few minutes. “I don’t know anything about kids, but…she seems happy.”

I watched my little girl playing, laughing as she swung high on the swings, singing some silly song she made up. This was a good day. “She is now, but she still cries for her mom a lot, especially at night. She won’t sleep alone.”

“She’s scared you’ll be gone when she wakes up.”

I glanced over at her and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Most days, she wakes up and she’s smiling at me. But then there are the days when she looks around and realizes that her mom’s not there. And I worry I’ll never be enough.”

“You will be. It’ll just take time.”

It surprised me…thirteen years with that bastard and she never had any kids. It wasn’t any of my business, but before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

“You never had any kids with him?”

She froze instantly, the happiness I’d just seen was washed away with my words. I could kick myself for being so fucking insensitive. “I did,” she said quietly. “Just one.”

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, burying my head in my hands. “What happened?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but that single tear quickly turned into more. I thought about telling her to forget it, but now I needed to know. I was fucking pissed as hell for her. She was suffering still, and it was all because of that fucking bastard.

“I was about eight months along, I think.” Her brows furrowed as she thought about it. “Everything is so fuzzy now.”

I didn’t think as I slipped my hand around hers, holding it tight. She was drifting off, floating away on a memory, and it fucking killed me that I sent her there.

“I don’t remember what I said or did, but…he was mad. I remember the first kick—the shock that he would do that when…but he did. I think I fell down the stairs, and then there was a lot of pain.”

“Miscarriage?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. He was still kicking me.”

---