Transition (Oakley’s Crew #3)

Chapter 1

GABE

“Daddy, I want Mommy!” I sit straight up in my bed, panic coursing through me as my body tries to work through being fast asleep just a second ago to being fully alert now. I blink through the darkness to see my five-year-old daughter staring at me from next to my bed.

“Amber, what’s wrong?” I ask, my voice a little scratchy as I force my body up into a sitting position.

“I had a bad dream, and I want Mommy!” I know that tone.

I’ve heard it a few times before, and it’s her no-nonsense, nothing else will suffice, you better do what I’m asking now voice.

And I’m not going to lie, even at six foot two, around a hundred and eighty pounds of mostly muscle, it’s fucking terrifying.

I know what’s coming next, and it’s my kryptonite. Sure enough, the sniffles have started, and if it were lighter in here, I’d see her chin starting to quiver and her bottom lip poking out.

“Amber . . .” I try to soothe, putting my hand on her little shoulder. “Daddy’s here. I’m right here. Tell me about this dream.”

“No,” she says, stomping her little foot.

I’d love to say I’m not a pushover, but when it comes to this little girl, I absolutely am.

I stand up and take her little hand, walking her out into the hall toward the kitchen, trying to think of something—anything—to comfort her.

“How about some chocolate milk? You love chocolate milk,” I say, my voice a higher octave than is natural for me, but I’m trying here.

Shell does a really good job at that high-pitched, happy shit. She’s a great mom, but I’m a great dad, damn it. I swear I am.

“No,” she whines. “I want Mommy.”

When we reach the kitchen, I kneel down to her level and place my hands on her shoulders, looking into her little blue eyes. “Amber, it’s late. I can’t wake up your mommy and Randy this late. You want to sleep in my bed? Will that help? I’m right here.”

Her little lip pokes out. I can see it now because I always keep a nightlight on in the kitchen. And it breaks my heart. “I want Mommy.”

I glance over at the clock and see it’s one in the morning. Shelly is for sure asleep and will be pissed at me—not because she doesn’t want to comfort our daughter—but because she’s told me, time and time again, I’m too soft with her. But how can I not be?

Shelly and I got married right out of high school.

Starting a family was the plan. I wanted to make sure we had some money saved up and a house to raise kids in, so it took a little bit longer than we’d originally planned to start that family.

But from the second I saw Amber in that hospital, my wife snuggling her up to her chest, that was it for me.

I was a dad, first and foremost. That little girl had me wrapped around her tiny finger.

And then—it seemed like out of nowhere—my wife was asking me for a divorce.

I was moving out and leaving the home we’d built together to go to a tiny little house a couple of blocks away.

My wife was dating another man—and then marrying that other man.

No smooth transition there. Nope. Quick and painful. Really fucking painful. I tried my best to shove it all down, but it felt like I failed Amber. She deserved to have two happy parents there with her, and all of a sudden, our family was just broken.

My head still spins from it all, even two years later. I know she’s still struggling with it—hence, waking up in the middle of the night in my little shack of a house that hasn’t become a home—and wanting to go to her mom in the house she knows and loves.

Fuck it. “Okay. Go grab your bunny,” I say to her, trying to hold in my disappointment and sadness that I can’t seem to make this a home for her.

Her eyes shine with victory as she runs down the hall, and I tug on a hoodie over my head, then sit down to pull my boots on.

I was wearing pajama pants, and there’s no way I’m putting on jeans just to run over to Shell’s.

I send my ex-wife a quick text to let her know we’re on our way, knowing she keeps her phone by her bed and not wanting to startle her with a loud phone call.

She’s a light sleeper. I have no doubt she’ll hear the text.

Amber comes out of her room with the stuffed bunny Shelly’s mom gave her the day she was born and tugs on her little shoes and jacket before I take her out to my truck and buckle her in.

I feel a vibration in my pocket—it’s likely a text from Shelly—and don’t bother checking it. No doubt it’s a passive aggressive message showing her irritation but not arguing with me.

It takes a couple of minutes to reach the large white house a couple of blocks from where I live now with blue shutters and a generous porch.

My heart clenches tight as I climb out of the truck and look up at the house with a sense of longing that’s so damn painful, I have to force some air into my lungs so I don’t choke on it.

I grab Amber from the back seat, and she wraps her little arms around my neck while I carry her up to the front door. I don’t have to knock because Shelly is there, opening the door with a bright smile just for Amber right on her pretty face. “Hey, sweet girl! What happened?”

“Mommy!” Amber says, reaching out for her, and Shell embraces her small body, letting her wrap her arms around her mom’s neck. “I missed you!”

Shelly smiles, hugging her close and kissing her head before lowering her to the ground and working her jacket off her shoulders. “I missed you too, but I was going to see you after school.”

Amber’s lip pokes out again, but it doesn’t seem to have the same impact on Shelly as it does me. “But I wanted to see you now! I want my bed.” she sobs slightly, and I feel my heart threatening to explode in my chest.

I want her to feel like the house I live in is hers too, but I can’t blame the kid when it doesn’t even feel like mine. It feels temporary because it was never meant to be permanent. I thought for sure when Shelly asked me to move out, it would be for a month or two while she came to her senses.

That did not happen.

“Okay, go to your room, and I’ll be in soon to tuck you in, okay?”

“Okay,” Amber says, but before she leaves, she wraps her little arms around my neck when I bend down and hugs me tight. “Love you lots, Daddy! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“So you still want me to take you to school?” I ask, checking carefully, my heart a vulnerable, delicate mess.

“Of course,” she says easily, like it’s a no-brainer. “Love you,” she says and smacks a kiss to my cheek.

“Love you too,” I say and squeeze her as tight as I can without harming her.

She bounces off down the hall to her bedroom, and I stand up slowly and face the stone face of my ex-wife—who has her hands on her hips and her right eyebrow quirked up enough to let me know I’m in trouble.

“Gabe . . .”

“Don’t start,” I say shortly. And while we do have a civil relationship and I try to keep it that way, tonight has been too much.

I don’t want to look around at this house and see the home.

I don’t want to look at my wife—ex-wife—and think about the way things used to be. About the way they were supposed to be.

Her tone and her posture soften, and she walks closer to me, surprising me when she embraces me in a comforting hug. “Gabe . . .”

I wrap my arms around her lightly, unsure if this is really even allowed right now. Not that it’s sexual in any way, but we are exes. She kicked my ass out. She’s married.

“She loves you, you know?”

“I love her too,” I say, my throat scratchy and dry. “But she doesn’t want me when she’s scared.”

It hurts. I can’t pretend it doesn’t. It hurts like a motherfucker. I’d do anything in my power to protect that little girl, but when she wakes up scared in the middle of the night—it’s not me she wants.

“Stop,” she says and carefully pulls out of my hold, stepping back a little.

“She does want you when she’s scared. She sees a spider and you’re the first one she runs to.

” I want to argue that it’s not the same, but she holds up a hand to stop me from speaking—and goddammit, it works just like it did when we were married.

“She’s not scared when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

She knows deep down she’s safe. She’s just testing boundaries. Confused about where her home is.”

I don’t say what I want to. I don’t say that this could have been home for all three of us, and she wouldn’t be confused if we’d have worked it out like I wanted to. I don’t say it, but I sure as hell feel it.

“You have to show her that your house is home too. You might have to show her some tough love because this isn’t a good routine for her. She has school tomorrow. We all have to work.”

“I’m sorry, did this interrupt your other life?” I bite out unnecessarily and instantly feel bad. “I’m sorry,” I say genuinely.

She just sighs softly. “Of course not. Amber is my life, and you know that. But you are her father.”

“I know that,” I bite out, my tone too harsh.

“I know you know that,” she says softly, keeping her calm like only Shelly can.

“And she knows that too, but she also knows she can get her way with you. I want her to go to you for comfort. When she’s at your house, I want it to be her home too.

I want her to feel comfortable there and stay on the nights she’s supposed to. ”

“I want that too. What am I supposed to do?” I ask, at the end of my rope. I’ve tried everything. “She wants you if she wakes up. She wants you. How am I supposed to take away her mom?”

She visibly flinches but recovers pretty quickly.

“I don’t want you to take her away from me, but you are her parent too.

We compliment each other. It’s not an either-or sort of thing.

We’re both her parents and are both capable of taking care of her.

You’re an amazing father, Gabe. You just have to learn to tell her no. ”