Chapter 9
CROW
When Saturday rolls around, I’m up before sunrise. I’m in the kitchen of the compound, making some coffee and trying not to get ahead of myself.
Today, I’m starting the repair to Birdie’s stairs.
We’ve been texting every day since I pulled the carpeting off her stairs.
Nothing big. Me checking in on her. Talking about my day.
Getting caught up on how she’s been feeling.
She sent Mia back to school with some carpooling help from the other moms and has set up all her doctor appointments for the coming weeks.
She’s been resting, and even though it’s only been a few days, she’s feeling well enough to think about trying to find a job.
I think it’s too soon. The ER doc said a week to ten days, so when I see her today, my plan is to let her know how I feel. She only gets one chance to heal from a concussion, and rushing it…
At the same time, I know what being unemployed means. She’s got a house that, I don’t know, probably has a mortgage and a kid who needs feeding.
My phone buzzes with a new voice mail. I’m checking my phone when Morris rolls into the compound.
“Yo, yo,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “You ready to roll?”
“You’re early, man.” I check the time on my phone and nod. The call was from a New York number. One I don’t recognize, so it’s not Birdie, and it’s not something I want to deal with today.
“Tell me about it.” Morris rubs his eyes and yawns loudly. “Zoey was up at the butt-crack of dawn, begging me to take her to Mia’s. It’s Saturday, Dad. It’s Saturday. Can we leave? To have the energy of a kid.” He’s groaning, but I’ve known Morris long enough to know he’s loving every minute of it.
“Dad?” I repeat.
“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. “That never gets old. I love the sound of it every time.” He lifts his chin at me. “You thinking about kids?”
“What?” I dump the last bit of coffee into the sink and load my mug into the dishwasher. I toss him a look. “Where the hell’s that coming from?”
He crosses his arms over his T-shirt. He’s wearing his leather vest over it, so he looks more like the old Morris than the dad version of the brother I remember from before.
That man wore leather, cursed up a storm, and could drink three times his body weight in beer.
Now, I feel like I’ve got a grizzled, tattooed dad trying to give me life lessons.
“Bridget’s single, right?”
I slip my phone into my pocket and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. “Doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t.”
“Why not? She’s hot, unattached, as far as you know. Great kid.”
I know Morris is trying to make a point, but it’s having the opposite effect.
“You just listed every reason she’s not going to want anything to do with me.
” I look at Morris and, for the first time, admit what’s burning under the surface.
“Come on, man. A guy with a record? I killed a guy. You think she’s going to want me around her kid when she finds that out?
I’m just going to do the work and hopefully end up with a reference when it’s all done. Nothing more.”
Morris shrugs. “Suit yourself. You’re not the only one who’s running from the past. A lot of people do. Maybe not from a record, but I can’t look at a single person I know who doesn’t think their shit stinks worse than everybody else’s. Maybe to her, your shit’s not all that bad.”
“It’s early for the deep fucking thoughts, Morris.” I clap my brother on the back. “But I get it.”
It doesn’t change anything, though. If I’d met Bridget seven years ago…
Shit. Right about the time I was getting my ass locked up, she was giving birth to Mia.
She’s raised a kid on her own, lost her mother…
Somehow, next to that, my life seems too dark and totally out of place.
I don’t see how there’s room in her life for a guy like me.
Which is why I have to shove aside the way she makes me feel.
Pretend that I’m not more excited about seeing her than I am about doing a job that could lead to more work.
I’m just going to go in, no expectations.
Except the expectation that I’m putting on myself now.
That I do my job and do it well. That way, I probably won’t be disappointed.
Morris drops me off in front of Bridget’s house just as Alice and Zoey are pulling up.
Morris hands me the keys to his truck and meets his wife on the sidewalk.
Zoey’s carrying a backpack so loaded with who knows what that she can hardly carry it, so Morris slings the backpack over one shoulder and grabs Zoey’s hand.
They walk up to the front door, while Alice greets me.
“Are you coming to Lia’s baby shower next weekend?” she asks. “You’re welcome to invite Bridget. It’ll be kid-friendly, and I think Zoey would love having Mia there.”
I shake my head, but I don’t know what to say. Alice and Morris are clearly playing matchmaker, but they’ve got it all wrong. I give Alice a look, but then I just decide to say what’s on my mind.
“Would you date a man like me?” I point to Zoey, who’s jumping up and down with excitement on the front stoop while they wait for Bridget to open the door. “Little kid, single mom, and a convict?”
“Ex-convict,” she corrects me. “Crow,” she says gently. “Some of the best people I know have the worst luck. And some of the worst people look like heroes on paper.”
I’m sure Alice is talking about her ex. The dude was manipulative and borderline abusive.
I don’t think he laid a hand on her, but he had a choke hold on her soul, from what Morris says.
The fact that the guy tried to burn down the building where Alice worked after he found out she’d left him tells me everything I need to know about the piece of shit.
Prison is the right place for a son of a bitch like that.
When it comes to me, though, I’m sure Alice is biased. She’s only known me a month, and everything she’s heard has been filtered through Morris.
Alice is still looking at me with such kindness, I want to squirm. “Thanks,” I mumble, not because I really believe her, but because it’s the right thing to say.
Then I head up to the house, where Birdie has opened the door for Morris and Zoey.
It’s adorable to see how excited the girls are to see each other.
Even though Zoey and Mia have only known each other for a few days, they are hugging, squealing, and they start taking everything out of Zoey’s backpack just inside the front door.
I stop right in the doorway and am looking down at enough colored pencils and crayons to fill an entire preschool when Bridget greets me.
She reaches out her hand. “This house was full of trip hazards before. Now…”
I take her hand and step over the backpack. “Whoa,” I say.
She’s looking at me as I release her hand. “Good morning. Crow.” She says my nickname like she’s trying it on.
“Good morning, Birdie.” I don’t mean for that to come out the way it does.
It’s optimistic. Flirtatious, maybe. I’m so out of practice, I don’t even know what my intention here is.
Bridget smiles, but Alice’s grin is even bigger.
They start talking about logistics for the girls, and I hear Mia begging her mom to let Zoey have a sleepover.
Morris clears his throat loudly. “Ladies, I got a hot date waiting for me.”
Alice rolls her eyes. “He’s going for a ride with Tiny today, but not until I drop him back at the compound.” She looks at Zoey. “I’ll pick you up around three, okay? Listen to Bridget, and remember to mind your manners.”
I’m glad to hear Alice is planning to come back later to get Zoey.
As much as the kids want to hang out, I don’t know if a sleepover is the best thing for Bridget right now.
She’s not even a week out from her fall, and with all the noise I’m going to be making today, she’s going to need quiet tonight to rest.
While Morris and Alice say their goodbyes to Zoey, I make a quick list of the supplies I’ll need from the hardware store. I won’t need much, but I don’t want to use scrap lumber to fix the stairs. I let Bridget know I’m heading out too and will be back with supplies in just a bit.
She hands me two twenty-dollar bills. “Will this cover the supplies?” she asks. Her gray eyes are stormy, the welcoming, almost flirtatious Bridget of a few minutes ago gone.
I wave off her money.
“I got this, Birdie. And don’t argue.”
She shakes her head, a reluctant smile on her pretty face. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”
I follow Morris out, wish him and Alice goodbye, then run to the hardware store to get what I’ll need for the day, plus a fresh pair of earplugs for Bridget. When I get back, the kids are at the kitchen table having a snack. Bridget’s sipping something from a mug.
“Coffee?” I ask, setting the lumber I need on a drop cloth.
She shoos the girls upstairs to play. “Yeah, want some?” she asks.
“I was thinking about your head. You’re all good with the caffeine now?”
She pours me a cup and nods. “I am, but I’m taking it easy. Just a half cup, plenty of milk.” She pours me a cup. “Do you only have a motorcycle?” she asks.
“Only a motorcycle?” I echo, not sure what she’s getting at.
“You always get rides from your friends. I wasn’t sure if you own a car or if it’s because you bring tools and stuff here that you can’t carry on a motorcycle.”
“Yeah. Only my bike for now.” I look into her rain-cloud eyes and search for what she’s really after. Is she interested in me or just making conversation with the man who’s going to be in her house all day? If you can still call me a stranger after I’ve watched her kid, driven her around.