Page 14 of Trust Me
“I still wanted to kill him,” he repliesalmost absently and without looking at me. I now turn toward him, watching him push my daughter on the swing, wondering if I just heard him correctly.
“What?” It’s all I can get out of my suddenly dry mouth.
He stops pushing the swing and steps toward me. He gets right in front of me, removing practically all the empty space between us. “I. Wanted. To. Kill. Him. He wanted to take you home, and all I kept thinking was I would beat the living shit out of him if he even touched you.” Following an intense, pointed look, he turns back toward Brooklyn and begins to push her.
I have no idea what to say. My brain literally stopped working. I stare at this man. The man I’ve been lusting after for the better part of a decade, and now I can’t even form a sentence.
He bends down to get Brooklyn from the swing, throws her up on his shoulders, and smiles at me. “Lunch?” he says as he turns and walks back toward the abandoned stroller.
And here I stand, staring at his very fine retreating ass, in loose running shorts no less, still trying to find my voice.
Chapter 10
Maddox
I grab the blanket I spot stuffed under the stroller and start to spread it out. Avery joins us moments later and starts to pull the sandwiches and other goodies out, but I can tell she’s flustered. Brooklyn is still perched up on my shoulders, enjoying the up and down while giggling and holding on for dear life.
Avery tries to make a grab for her, but she throws a fit and doesn’t want down. “Come on, Bean. It’s lunchtime,” I say and pluck her down from my shoulders, depositing her on the blanket. I sit next to her, and she instantly climbs up on my lap. Avery stands there by the blanket and just watches us. I realize I’m perfectly content with holding Brooklyn on a blanket in the park.
When the fuck did that happen?
Avery sits down across from us and starts to hand Brooklyn pieces of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she had pre-cut. “I wasn’t planning on another person, so I only have this one other sandwich. Split it?”
I look up at her, into her crystal-blue eyes, and smile. She’s so damn sexy, even when she’s offering me half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Is it strawberry jelly or grape?” I ask.
“Stawbewy,” Brooklyn says as she stuffs another chunk of sandwich in her already full mouth.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, Brooklyn, and chew that up before you stuff more in there,” she tells her daughter in her stern “mom” voice. “Are you a jelly snob, Maddox?” I glance up, and she has a big smile on her face. I’d say anything—do anything—to keep that smile there.
“Not so much a snob as I am not a fan of grape jelly.”
“Well, you’re in luck then,” she replies and hands me half the sandwich. I take the half she’s offering me and hand her a bottle of water. She opens the bag of potato chips and places them in between us. Brooklyn dives in with both hands, and I’m pretty sure she’s left half her sandwich smeared all over the bag of chips.
Once lunch is finished—and, yes, I’m still starving—we head back over to the swings. Brooklyn is in heaven on the swings, and Avery and I have taken turns over the last hour pushing her. Avery must notice her daughter’s eyes gettingheavy. “I think it’s naptime.”
“No nap! No nap!” she exclaims.
“Ah, come on, Bean. It’s time for my nap too. Let’s head home and lie down for a bit,” I say as I pull her from her swing.
Avery starts gathering up the remains of our picnic and dumps all the garbage in the trash can. We load up the stuff we’re keeping and head back toward their house. Brooklyn is perched back up on my shoulders again, talking a mile a minute about the birds and butterflies and kids she played with at the park. Avery’s pushing the stroller behind us and remains quiet, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts.
We get back to their house and park the stroller around back by the small garage. Her home phone is ringing as we slip in the back door. She answers it quickly before the caller can hang up, sounding genuinely happy to hear whoever the caller is on the other end. I walk back toward the back of the house to Brooklyn’s bedroom. It’s a pretty small house. An older two-bedroom, one bath home, with an eat-in kitchen and living room. Just right for Avery and Brooklyn. It’s probably pretty affordable too, which I’m sure is part of the attraction Avery has for the house as a single mother. I know when she got pregnantand Drake booted her from the apartment she had just moved into, she moved back home with her parents, where she stayed for a while after Brooklyn was born. Jake helped secure this place for her and his niece. He’s not that far from her, and I’m practically right around the corner, about three blocks away.
I help Brooklyn into the bathroom to clean up the remains of her PB & J sandwich face. After I get her cleaned up, she tells me she has to potty. “Well, shit,” I mumble quietly to myself as I rub the back of my neck. Um…now what do I do? I’ve never changed a diaper before. Does she wear a diaper? Hell, I’ve definitely never helped a toddler use the restroom. But without me even needing to help her, she pulls her pants down and sits on the potty chair across from the toilet. I look away because it feels like I’m violating something here. I feel the urge to whistle so I don’t have to listen to her go to the bathroom. When she’s done, I hand her a little wad of toilet paper, all while keeping my back to her.
She gives me a happy and enthusiastic, “All done.” I help her get her pants up straight without really looking down or making eye contact. Once she’s finished washing up, she places her little hand inside of mine and pulls me toward her bedroom.
Her room looks like a damn toy storeexploded. It’s not messy by any means, but there is at least one of everything in this room. Pink and purple everywhere. I feel like I should leave my balls at the door just to step foot in here.
She heads straight to the bookcase and grabs a worn book from the shelf. She walks over to me, hands it over, and climbs into her little bed with Miss Sparkles.
Okay, so I’m gonna read a story, apparently.
I sit on the floor next to her bed and open upDo Princesses Really Kiss Frogs?I glance at the little blonde lying on her bed, watching me with her curious blue eyes and waiting for me to start.
“Daddy, what do princesses wear on a hike? As long as it’s sensible, they wear what they like,” I start. I glance back down and see her watching me intently. I continue on with the next page and the next. Finally, I read the last page and look back at Brooklyn, finding she’s sound asleep. I can’t help but watch her little chest rise and fall, her even breathing so content in sleep.
I look up at the doorway and notice Avery for the first time. “I usually get the ‘Why don’t I have a daddy’ question when I read that.”
