Page 19 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
Kristy stays quiet for some time.
“I have something I have to do,” she finally says. “I’ll come by Monday after work.”
“I’m happy to have them longer. Not a problem,” I tell her, adding sauce to the meat and seasoning it more.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Don’t call me earlier or harass my phone if I run late,” she warns.
My hand freezes from stirring. “And I repeat, is everything okay? If you’re not here by early evening, of course, I’m going to call. The girls will be worried too.”
Again, a heavy, dramatic sigh. “We’re not together anymore, Hud, so don’t go busting my balls. I’ll be out. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Leave it at that.”
“Fucking hell, Kristy,” I rasp low so the girls don’t hear. “Are you involved in some shit? Because listen to me very carefully, if you come here to pick up the girls and I see the faintest hint of red in your eyes, or so much as a twitch, I will have you turn the fuck around and go home. I‘ll end up driving the girls back home myself.”
“You know what, Hud? I’m sick and tired of you painting me as the incompetent villain! Who did the judge rule as their primary guardian? Me! That’s right. Your ass was deemed unfit and dangerous.”
“And whose fucking fault was that, Kristy? Huh?”
“Oh, don’t give me this shit again. You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it. You always pretended to be better than me. Well, guess what? You’re not, Viper,” she spits my old road name again in spite. “I’m thriving without you, and those girls are better off being far away from you.”
My jaw hurts from clenching it. My hand grips the wooden spoon so hard I hear the whine of the handle cracking. I know everything out of her mouth is utter bullshit, but my past mistakes still haunt me. I wish I were strong enough to have walked away way sooner than I did.
I won’t regret getting together with Kristy. I never will. Because that experience got me my three beautiful girls. If walking through that fire gets me them in the end, I’d burn over and over again.
“Be here Monday night. Bye.” I hang up, over her shit and needing to calm the hell down for the girls.
Knock knock.
For fuck’s sake.And for her. Violet Huxley.
“Shit.” I turn off the stove and move the meat sauce aside.
The pounding of tiny feet comes racing downstairs.
“Careful,” I call out as Lucy slides across the wood floor in her socks.
“She’s here, she’s here, she’s here!” she chants, skipping to the door. Thankfully, she has the good sense to hold the doorknob and look over her shoulder for me to give her permission.
“Confirm who’s at the door first. Always,” I remind her.
“Who is it?” she yells since she’s too little to reach the peephole.I should come up with some way she can see who’s outside.
“It’s Violet Huxley,” that sweet voice chimes through the paneled wood door.
“Now, Daddy?” Lucy asks.
I shake my head at my precocious little spitfire. “Go ahead, Baby Girl.”
Her smile is huge as she turns, gets up on her tiptoes to unlock the door, then pulls it open.
“You’re here!” Lucy gasps loudly. “Is that cookies?” she screams. The only decibel she knows right now.
A soft giggle escapes Violet. “These are classic chocolate chips with a hint of cinnamon.” She lowers the plate to show Lucy.
Angie squeezes between my body and the wall and smiles softly at them. “And that?” she points at the other thing.
Violet’s blue eyes meet mine and hold a second, though it could have been an eternity. With this woman, time seems to stop when she stares at me.
“I know you said not to bring anything. But, since Lucy mentioned you’d be making spaghetti, I made my famous garlic butter breads you can pull apart. And a salad.”
