From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Nineteen Ozzy

Chapter Nineteen

Ozzy

“It’s us, Grandma,” Lola says when we step into my mom’s light-green house with a white door and weed-infested yard. I need to spend a day here giving it some TLC.

“Sweetheart, come here.” Mom stands from her rocking chair and slides on her thick glasses. She’s lost most of her vision, which explains why her chin-length brown-and-gray hair is always ratted in the back and her button-down blouse is usually off by one or two buttons. She’s not the put-together Gina “Perfectionist” Laster she used to be.

Lola hugs her.

“How is school?”

“Almost over,” Lola says.

“Where’s Ruth?” I ask about her sister, who moved in to help my mom after my dad died.

“She had a hair appointment.” Mom holds out her arms to me, and I embrace her.

“I have a kitten,” Lola says with her eyes alight. “Well, he’s not really mine, but I found him, and sometimes I get to watch him. His name is Bandit Mouse Bernabe.”

Mom eases back into her chair and turns down the volume on the TV. “That’s a nice name.”

“Where’s Paxton?” Lola pokes her head into the kitchen, searching for Aunt Ruth’s parrot.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Mom says.

Lola skips down the small hallway to the bedroom.

“How’s she doing?” Mom asks.

I sit on the faded green-and-white striped sofa. “She’s good. Great, actually, now that she gets to have a part-time pet.”

“And therapy?”

“The same.”

“How are you? How’s work?”

“I’m good. Work’s good,” I say, leaning back and craning my neck to look for any sign of Lola. “I’ve met someone.”

Mom straightens in her chair. “Oswald, that’s great. Tell me about her.”

“She’s a breath of fresh air. Unexpected. And I can’t stop grinning when I’m with her. Her humor is refreshing. When she laughs, I feel it deep in my chest. And she seems to adore Lola.”

Mom presses her hand to her chest. “Do you hear yourself?” she says, with thick emotion.

“Hear myself?”

“You didn’t tell me her name. You didn’t tell me what she looks like. And you didn’t tell me what she does for a living. I hope this woman knows how lucky she is to have you. A man who really sees the parts of her that matter.”

I laugh. “You might be a little biased.”

“Perhaps. But you’re a hundred times the man your father was. God rest his soul. I loved him, but he wasn’t, well, you know.” She folds her wrinkly hands and nervously wrings them. It’s what she does whenever she or anyone else mentions my father. I feel indifferent about him. It’s the only way I can reconcile the way he died and everything he stole in the process. Anger and regret are a waste of time.

But I don’t want to talk about him. “Well”—I act like she didn’t mention my father—“just to give you a few of those details, her name is Maren. She is beautiful inside and out. She’s a firefighter—a tanker pilot. And she’s never been married.”

“See how boring all of that is compared to you feeling her laughter in your chest?”

I hum. “True. Also, Lola thinks we’re just friends.”

“Why? Don’t you think she’s old enough to handle the truth?”

“She’s old enough to handle the truth but not old enough to keep a secret.”

“A secret from who?”

“Tia and Amos. Well, mainly Tia.”

Mom frowns. “Is she still holding a grudge?”

“An eternal one.”

“Oswald, you can’t let her tell you how to live your life.”

“I need their help. That puts me at their mercy.”

“They love Lola. They’re not going to abandon her because you want to move on with your life,” she says.

“No. But I don’t want Lola living in a house where the adults are at each other’s throats. And I don’t want Tia bringing up the accident more than she already does. They love Lola, but they show their love differently than you show your love. Tia has always been tough on me, and she was tough on Brynn too. She’s never been a coddler. So she didn’t approve of every choice we made raising Lola. As is, she’s frustrated that Lola’s therapist hasn’t miraculously cured her or forced her to get into a car.

“If I push her by stepping out of line, she and Amos will pack up and leave. It won’t be about Lola. She’ll blame it on me. She’ll let Lola know that it’s all because of me.”

“I could help with Lola,” Mom says.

I don’t say anything.

“She’s ten, not two.” Mom blows out an exasperated breath because she’s offered to help with Lola before now. I haven’t felt comfortable leaving Lola with someone who is legally blind.

Mom continues to make her case. “And Ruth can help.”

“Ruth is already helping by staying with you,” I say, swiping my hand along the cobwebs inside the shade of her standing lamp.

“Oswald, Ruth does very little to help me. Ask her, if you don’t believe me.”

“You can’t drive.”

“What does that matter when Lola won’t get in a car?”

She’s not wrong.

“Now, what can I do? Would you like Lola to stay with me while you take your new lady friend on a date?”

A date.

We’ve done that.

I want a night.

Can I tell my mom that? Or is that basically saying I need her to watch Lola so I can get laid?

I don’t push my luck. “What if Lola spent a Friday or Saturday evening with you?”

“A sleepover?”

I rub the back of my neck. “It wouldn’t have to be.”

“What if you don’t want your date to end with dinner?” Mom smirks.

“Grandma, can I take Paxton out of his cage?” Lola yells from the bedroom.

“Come here, Lola,” Mom says.

“Please don’t say anything,” I beg.

Lola pokes her head around the corner. “What?”

“I think Aunt Ruth should be here if you take Paxton out of his cage. But since she’s not here right now, I think you should return and spend the night sometime.”

Lola slides her wide-eyed gaze to me. “Really?”

Not once has Lola spent the night with my mom, or even with both my parents when my father was alive, even though she’s begged to do it. But she’s not a baby anymore, and Aunt Ruth is trustworthy. Still, it will spur a conversation with Tia and Amos that I don’t want to have. But the question is: Am I willing to have it for the chance to spend a whole night with Maren?

“Really,” I say, not just because thinking of Maren gives me a semi-erection.

It’s time to expand Lola’s world. Even Victoria is encouraging Lola to try new experiences since her refusal to get into a car has made everything smaller.

“That would be amazing.” Lola inflates with enthusiasm, and I can’t help but smile.

Once again, Lola proves that secret-keeping isn’t her forte. I haven’t even mentioned it to Maren yet because I want to surprise her. However, Lola spills the beans.

“Where will I sleep?” Lola asks during our late dinner following her softball practice.

As Tia and Amos lift their gazes from their dinner plates, Lola cringes with her signature “oops” look.

“What are you talking about?” Tia asks Lola while peering at me.

I press my napkin to my mouth and clear my throat. “Lola’s going to spend the night with my mom and Ruth sometime.”

Tia and Amos exchange a look.

“Lola wants to play with Paxton. And she’s old enough that she won’t require much from Ruth or my mom.”

“What about that cat?” Tia scrutinizes Lola.

It’s ridiculous.

“Bandit will be back with Maren. This is a chance for Lola to try something new, expand her world, and build confidence.” I spew Victoria’s words, but they’ve also been Tia’s. She can’t have it both ways. If she doesn’t want me to “coddle” Lola, she can’t do it either.

“We could visit Leroy,” Amos suggests.

Tia regards him with narrowed eyes for a second. Leroy is their son, who lives in Arkansas.

I drop my gaze to my plate when Tia inspects me. I need to play it cool, but it’s hard because this is the best-case scenario. Not only will Lola be at my mom’s for the night, but if Tia and Amos are gone, I won’t have to explain why I’m not here. More than that, I can be here, and Maren can stay the night.

As I imagine this, I start to feel like a lovestruck dummy getting giddy over seeing a girl.

“Ozzy, let me know when you’re thinking so I can check airfare,” Tia says.

I must restrain myself from voicing my enthusiasm or punching the air excitedly.

My grin is dying to spread across my face, and my heart is racing. Still, I manage to contain my reaction and offer nothing more than a few easy nods.

After Lola is in bed, I call Maren.

“Still in Missoula?” I ask.

“I am, but I’m tired. No sneaking out tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“You sound chipper. What’s up?” she asks.

“I’m hopeful,” I say. “Because I have just moved Heaven and Earth to be with you. When do you have time off again?”

“I’m off Sunday to Wednesday,” she says. “Heaven and Earth? Ozzy, your ability to sweep a girl off her feet is unmatched. Tell me more about your superpower.”

“Lola can spend Saturday night at my mom’s house, and her other grandparents will visit their son when Lola’s at my mom’s. You’re invited to stay the night with me after you get off work on Saturday. Clothing is optional. And if I’m being frank, it’s downright frowned upon.”

She laughs. “Something will happen. You’re getting my hopes up, but something will happen.”

“Don’t be a Negative Nellie. Could Lola get sick at the last minute? Absolutely. Could my house burn down before then? Of course. Might you find a guy who drives a car and has sex with you? For sure. But despite all those possibilities, I’m banking on everything going well. And I’m going to finally use that box of condoms that nearly landed me in jail.”

Maren’s laughter spreads along my skin, warm and sweet like honey. “Jail? We have so much to discuss. I know nothing about your parents. I’d love to see your whole house. And don’t even get me started on all the questions I have about your box of condoms.”

I hum. “Yes. So much to discuss.”

“Ozzy, I feel like your dirty little secret.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “We haven’t even done the dirty.”

“Oswald.”

I laugh because she’s never met my mom, but she’s mastered the tone in which my mother has always said my name.

“I miss you,” I say.

“I miss you too. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. As long as Amos and Tia can get plane tickets. If not, we’ll have to push it back a few weeks until your time off falls on a weekend again.” I flop back onto my bed.

She sighs so hard I swear my phone feels heavier. “Do you wonder where we’re going with this? Whatever this is? I feel guilty for inserting myself into your life, since you have a child and all the delicate complications that come with that role. Yet, simultaneously, I’m scouring real estate listings for a house because I want you and Lola to come see me and Bandit anytime. Speaking of Bandit, how is my furry friend?”

“You’re never getting him back. You had to know this was going to happen.”

She laughs. “Since you started this call with such honesty, I’ll tell you how far I went for Lola’s cat. You know that shed he lives in?”

I adjust myself because my dick has a perfect memory. “Yes,” I say.

“Will is charging me double rent for Bandit to live in the shed.”

“You’re not serious.” I run a hand through my hair, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m dead serious.”

I’m speechless for ten seconds before I fumble my first minimally coherent thought. “We’ll keep the cat.”

“Nope,” she says with a pop to her lips. “Fitz and Jamie found a different house. The one with the tree house is still for sale. I’m thinking of making an offer on it.”

“That’s exciting unless you’re buying it just for the cat. Then it’s a little messed up.” And by the cat, I mean Lola. But suggesting she’s buying a house, in a roundabout way, for my daughter seems serious. I can’t allow myself to be that level of serious with someone I have to sneak into the house through a window.

Jesus. Maybe she is my dirty little secret.

“I used to have a tree house, minus a roof,” she says. “It was a platform with a railing. I’d lie on my back, staring at the sky, and that’s when I fell in love with flying. I’d see planes and birds in the sky and wanted to spend my days in the clouds too.”

I can’t help but grin, imagining young Maren in a tree, staring up at the blue sky and dreaming of flying. “Buy the house,” I say.

“You think?”

“I do. Real estate is always a great investment. Interest rates are pretty good. Go for it.”

“Okay. I have to message my Realtor,” she says in a rush.

“It’s late.”

“I know, Ozzy. But I don’t want someone else scooping it up.”

I laugh at her excitement. Joy is timeless. It doesn’t matter if someone is five or fifty. It sounds the same, and it’s unavoidably contagious.

“Go message your Realtor. Good night.”

“EEK! Sorry, I let that slip. Okay, good night.”

I drop my phone to the side and continue staring at the ceiling. I think of Brynn, and I wonder if she would have liked Maren. Or would she say I’m letting Lola get attached to someone who could die because she has a high-risk job? Can I live the rest of my life wondering what Brynn would think?