Chapter 2
AXEL
“Read the one about the funny dog who wears a tutu, Daddy!”
“This one?” I held up the wrong book, feigning shock at Phoebe’s giggles.
“No, that’s the frog book.” Phoebe hopped to her knees, pushing a strand of long blond hair from her eyes. “I can help you find it.”
“Snuggle up, love bug. It’s bedtime, remember?” I squeezed her toes through the pink gingham duvet and reached for a well-loved book with a dancing poodle wearing a pink tutu and ballet shoes. “I think this might be it.”
Phoebe punched her tiny fist in the air and clapped. “Yes!”
I chuckled, positioning my chair next to her mattress. I didn’t trust Phoebe’s glorified toddler bed to hold me and unfortunately, replacing it with a twin-sized one wasn’t in the budget this month. She was small for her age, so for now, it would have to do.
“Once upon a time, there was a precocious poodle who loved to dance,” I read. “Princess Penelope was her name. Penny, as she was called, loved to twirl and spin and—”
“Me too. I like to twirl,” Phoebe interrupted.
“You’re a very good twirler.”
“It’s ballet, Daddy. I want to do ballet. Can I? Sydney told me you need the special pink shoes or it doesn’t count.”
Sydney? Oh…right. She was a pre-K classmate and Phoebe’s new bestie.
Apparently, the fellow five-year-old was the height of cool.
Sydney had tennis shoes with sparkles, a tree with a tire swing in her front yard, and two cats.
She didn’t have a dog, so she lost a point there, but she had a shiny pink backpack and Phoebe loved the polka-dot ribbons in her hair.
I usually grunted or hummed in acknowledgment and tried not to make promises I couldn’t keep. Not to Phee. God knew, I wished I had the means to make every little dream of hers come true.
I’d happily lasso the moon and deliver it with confetti and fairy dust. I’d buy the big house, three dogs, five cats, and the chicken coop.
She wouldn’t just have a new mattress and dance classes—I’d get one of those canopy beds like princesses had, and I’d hire a real ballerina with a pretty tutu to show my girl how to twirl like a pro.
Ballet, princess beds, and a barn filled with fluffy animals would have been sweet, but they weren’t on the menu just yet.
We had a reliable albeit humble rental mobile home with a great creekside setup where we could hunt imaginary dragons in the forest, build forts made of branches, and sit on boulders and tell stories while we fished or counted tadpoles lurking in the water.
Maybe it wasn’t sparkly, but we had fun, and living within our means was crucial to survival.
I’d learned all my lessons the hard way, and I’d vowed from the day she was born that Phoebe wouldn’t make my mistakes. Nor would she suffer because of them.
I let her ramble on about Sydney for a bit ’cause I loved the sound of her voice and the funny habit she had of gesturing as she spoke.
Phoebe was a gust of an ocean breeze on a hot summer day. She was laughter in the wind and fireflies at midnight. She was all things beautiful, joyful, and wondrous, and not a single day passed without me thanking my lucky stars for her.
Phoebe’s soliloquy finally petered out with a yawn. She pointed at the book in my hands and flopped on her pillow. “Aren’t you going to read, Daddy?”
“Yep. Where was I?” I cleared my throat and found my place. “Theodore the toad didn’t like twirling. He didn’t like spinning, and he didn’t like the color pink.”
“Silly toad,” Phoebe mumbled sleepily.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, my heart near to bursting as always.
“Silly toad,” I agreed.
I finished the story, delivered a glass of water, rearranged stuffed animals as requested, kissed her forehead, and said good night, leaving the bedroom door open.
The second I moved into the living area, my cell buzzed.
“Hey ya, Kitty,” I answered.
The purr on the line was an inside joke that had somehow become a greeting. “Hi, handsome. Just calling to check on you and Phee Phee. How’s the new home, new job, new school situation workin’ out?”
I plonked onto the threadbare sofa and put my feet up. “Phee’s great. She loves pre-K and already has a new best friend.”
“Of course, she does. She’s exuberant and lovely like her fabulous Aunt Katherine,” Kitty gushed in a terrible British accent.
“Uh-huh,” I deadpanned, reaching for the remote.
“And what about you?”
“I’m fine.”
Kitty huffed. “Don’t make me work. I’m exhausted, Axe. I’ve been on my feet all day, and they’re killing me. Did I tell you Juan fired Elektra?”
“No.”
“We’re down a girl and yes, the tips are nice, but my whole body aches. And see what I did there? I told you how I am. Now it’s your turn,” she pressed.
“I’m fine,” I repeated.
“Grr! Gimme something more, or I’ll be on the first flight to California to see for myself.”
I smiled at my friend’s put-upon growl and stared, unseeing, at the car commercial on the TV. “I need another job to tide me through December.”
Kitty sighed dramatically. “You’re still planning on moving to Texas? Why?”
“ ’Cause there’s a real job there, and the idiot cattle owner I’ve been working for just sold his herd to a local rancher today.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah, I can get by with being part-time at the vet’s office, but it’ll be tight, and…” I scrubbed my hand over my face and slipped deeper into the sofa. “That’s a tomorrow problem.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Can you get a bouncer job?” she asked.
“I’m a trained veterinarian, Kit.”
“Sure, but—”
“And even if there were nightclubs nearby, I have a kid. I can’t take graveyard shift and pay a babysitter. I don’t even know a soul yet, and I wouldn’t trust just anyone with Phee.”
Kitty hummed on the line. “I know. Ugh. Why can’t life be easy?”
“Great question.”
“You know what you should do?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I am, because I’m your best pal, and I give a shit.”
Her tone was light but tinged with a familiar hint of frustration.
She cared. Not for my sake so much, though.
I wasn’t her best pal, but years ago, we’d had a best pal in common, and that bond meant something to Kitty.
Which was why I didn’t brush her off or disconnect the call so I could watch TV and turn my brain off for a precious fucking hour.
“I know you do.”
“Good. Then ask the rancher for a job. You know those animals. He’d be stupid not to hire you.”
I’d literally been thinking the same thing all afternoon and all evening, but I argued anyway. It was my default.
“That’s not how it goes.”
“Bullshit. It’s exactly how it goes,” Kitty snapped. “If he says no, tell him to keep you in mind. It’s that easy. And maybe he’ll say yes and you can buy some time and find a job that’s not in Texas.”
“I’m taking that job. I have a kid to think about, Kit. And she needs some stability. I can’t keep uprootin’ her. It’s not right.”
“And you have a score to settle.”
“Maybe,” I conceded.
Kitty was quiet for a long moment. “Have I told you lately that you’re a hardheaded dickwad?”
“Not lately.”
“Well, you are,” she huffed. “Just talk to the other farmer and—”
“Rancher,” I corrected.
“And…be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
Kitty burst into laughter. “You’re horrible! The worst. If it wasn’t for your winning personality—oh, wait. You don’t have one of those, either.”
“Fuck off,” I huffed without heat, smiling in spite of myself.
She snickered merrily. “I’m kidding, doll. I think you’re the bee’s knees. Maybe one day you’ll give yourself some credit and realize that you’re also kind of a rock star.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if I’m Mick Jagger, who’re you?”
“Bruce. I love him,” Kitty gushed.
“Springsteen? Why?”
“Why not? He’s aged well, he’s intelligent, and he’s a responsible family man.”
“How do you know he’s a responsible family man?”
“I read People. I know shit.”
“This conversation is going to strange places. I’m hanging up on you. Bye, Kit.”
“Bye, handsome. Give Phee twenty kisses, and tell her I miss her.”
“I will.”
“And Axe? You really are doing a great job. Hang in there, sweetheart. That girl is thriving because of you. Mellie would be so proud and—”
“Stop.”
Kitty sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later. Be good, be happy.”
I disconnected the call, tossed my cell onto the coffee table, and closed my eyes.
Some days I felt as if I could drown under the weight of old anguish and simple survival. Life would have been a fuck of a lot easier if I were a people person like Kitty—or hell, even Dennis. I was not. But I could fake it for Phoebe’s sake.
I’d do anything for Phoebe’s sake.