MUST HAVE thought he was three steps away from being engaged. Keir shifted on his bed in the dark, a lazy grin stirred inside at Myah’s way off-base interpretation of his birthday ring.
He’d seen Haylan with a snake-chain necklace, and Skye with a sports bracelet, but never connected they had anything to do with turning twenty-five. Mom and Dad had matched the gifts to the personalities of each of them. Good job, for no way would Keir wear a bracelet or a necklace. Yep, his love-smothering parents had gotten it right. He smiled at their beloved nickname.
Two months later, they were dead.
Keir twisted the ring, drew a shaky breath, fought the makings of a dull headache. The sound of the crash. Metal on metal. Popping, shattering glass. He shook and blinked. Memories tethered him to the moment he wanted to forget the most. The ones that made him the mess he saw in the mirror.
“Try being a godly witness with that on your conscience,” he’d taunted that same mirror more than once. “Perfect love casts out all fear,” he’d whisper back with a struggle to believe it. How could he be a shining example of manhood, never mind a believer, if he couldn’t master unfounded fear that he knew to be unfounded fear?
Myah may have seen an inkling that he was crazy, the way he stared off into space during their conversation. But she’d asked about the ring. He’d had no intention of discussing it with her. Still, he was thankful she didn’t roll her eyes or stare back in disgust.
He didn’t need anyone else to know he wore the security blanket on stressful days. He’d nearly broken out in a cold sweat thinking he’d have to explain the whole sordid story. What a mess. He was a mess, and Myah seemed so…he crinkled his nose…proper. Man, not even her jogging suit had a wrinkle.
He chuckled, ’cause he sure had wrinkles. Lots of them. He even knew he’d be a certifiable crazy freak on the streets of Chicago if God didn’t regulate his mind and be the calm to temper the screams he heard at night.
Alone in the dark he released a dry laugh and fingered the tiny gouge on his chin.
Proper Myah had been the polar opposite of how he’d felt. If he hadn’t talked to her on that first night, heard her antics with Billy, he would have pegged her for a snob. Not mean, just too careful, like she had to protect the sterilized world she and Dylan lived in.
Keir had seen it happen to Neely. Haylan had protected her so much she’d grown withdrawn. Myah needed to learn she couldn’t hold the reigns to every facet of her son’s life. Even at an early age, pain happened.
“Let it go, Myah,” he whispered. “Pain happens.”
His fingers drifted to the camouflaged scar tissue on the left side of his chest and collarbone, and he wondered if someone like Myah could let go without freaking out. There was a song about someone who called herself Independent, wasn’t there? Did it happen to mention how lonely Miss Independent tended to be?
Yeah, he’s one to talk.
Rolling to sit up, Keir dragged himself to the foot of the bed, got up, and did a cursory security check around the house in virtual darkness. The scratchy pitter patter of tiny feet followed him. The four bedroom, three and a half bath house was old, inherited from his parents. The pitter patter?
He looked behind and smiled. He did have a girl in his life, the only kind his emotions could handle right now. After four lonely years, his siblings talked him into a relationship, convinced it would help him relax.
She was the last of Skye’s brood; the tiny, lean, underfed one that got trampled by adventurous brothers and sisters. She’d curled in the palm of his hand, yawned, and it was love at first sight.
Three weeks of her six week life they’d spent together. She listened to him whine, didn’t cause any major trouble, and doled out unconditional love by the bucket load.
Keir scooped her up and set her down on the upper landing. He returned to his room as the rich ruddy-haired Ca de Bou followed him to the threshold of his door where he stepped over the short fence. Her tiny cries of protest called out to him.
He flopped on the bed, such a mistake. It didn’t worsen his headache, but reminded him that it was there. Waiting. Just waiting for him to relax before it slammed in full force. Not tonight, he needed to help finish up the Easter play props in the morning.
Arms flung to the sides, he sighed to rid himself of stress in the moment of surreal, peaceful silence. The bass line for “On the Road to Victory” played out on his cell phone. He reached for the bedside table to put his touch-lamp on to the first illumination setting.
“On the Road” played again. Where’d he leave his phone? His eyes tracked the sound as much as his ears, and a yip more favorable to a cat came from the doggie training crate outside his door.
“Easy, Jolie,” he hushed as he lunged for his jeans piled under his discarded socks and t-shirt.
Myah.
Myah?
“On the Road” bass line.
His brain engaged. “Hello?” She wouldn’t know he’d just spent ten seconds befuddled by her name. Or a little prideful that she’d called.
“Hi. Keir? It’s Myah.”
“Hi-ya.” Sounded like a dork now. He splayed on the bed, tapped the lamp off, and found the cleft for his head in the pillow as he folded an elbow over his eyes. “Glad you called.” He’d thought about her all evening. Strange.
“Yeah? How’s your night?”
“Eh.” That sounded too aloof. He winced when she didn’t respond. Uh-oh. “Still there?”
“I—yeah—I debated whether or not to call, then got tied up with housework. Sorry to disturb you so late.”
“’T’s okay. You couldn’t disturb me.” He waited. When nothing more came, he tried to think fast because he wanted to keep her voice in his ear. “Is Dylan knocked out?”
“Like a light.” She laughed like she had a secret. “I’ll never tell him that play days are really for me.”
Picturing her face, Keir smiled. “Ah, that’s sneaky. I’ll tell my brother-in-law. Maybe he’ll get a decent night’s sleep once in a while.”
“Or we’ll bring the kids together. They can crash into each other all day. However they get unconscious doesn’t matter to me.”
He laughed with her, but the thought of the kids—bringing Myah and his family together—sent an unidentified streak down his center.
“I guarantee, not even Sunday morning cartoons will entice them out of bed,” Myah promised.
“Sounds like a plan.” He wouldn’t push the issue, but he wanted to implement her joke for real. Neely would have fun with Dylan. And Keir would get to spend more time with Myah. Not that that mattered, but she turned out to be fun company.
“Oh. The reason I called, I want to thank you for lunch today. You didn’t have to. Very sweet of you.”
Sweet. He dragged his arm off his eyes to rake his fingers like a slug over his eyebrows, forehead, and backwards through is hair. “I’m glad I was there.” Visions of finer restaurants came to mind. The thought alone mellowed his voice. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“Maybe.”
“So, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Church. Wouldn’t miss it. And it’s Palm Sunday, would you like to come?”
“Can’t tomorrow. What are you doing after that?”
A pause followed. “Nothing really, but I get to spend time with Dylan.”
“Thought you did that today.”
“Hey, I spend a lot of time at work. Weekends are when I make up for all the precious moments lost with my baby. I miss too much of him on weekdays.”
“When does he spend time with his dad?”
“Well, I’m grateful he’s regular with support payments, but other than that, Greg’s turned his back on us.”
Us?
“His w—he’s married now, and expecting his own family. I doubt things will get better.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My precious little man and I are fine.”
Keir closed his eyes. “All right, so you don’t go out. Not with friends? Work buddies?”
“Not really. Once in a while with Amy.”
She was making this difficult for him. Or one sweet chase. Now there’s a place to use the word sweet. He chuckled at his lapse in concentration. “What if I wanted an organized, scheduled outing with you? Alone. You gonna tell me you have to check your play date calendar?”
Again she laughed. This time he suspected because he’d just made her nervous. Maybe he ought to back this up, no frightening off the prospective date. Again with the date thing. He only wanted to hang out. But she needed to spend time with Dyl.
He rolled to his side, forming a plan as he went. “Are you too tied up tomorrow afternoon to go for a drive?”
“A drive? Where to?”
“Nowhere. Just a drive. See whatever rolls by the window.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice turned light.
“If Dylan gets tired of the scenery, the motion alone will put him to sleep. You’ll be together, so it’s quality time.”
“You’re bargaining with my child?” Her next laugh was soft, so he returned in kind.
“Hey, I’m not above using a baby for personal gain.”
“You’re awful. You shouldn’t pluck a mother’s heartstrings that way.”
Lyrics came to mind and he sang them into the phone. “’Cause a mother’s heart is in the smi-ile of her child.”
A breathless, throaty laugh filled his ear. Ran down his insides. Hmm, he liked that. He memorized the intonations of her voice.
“Myah, come on.”
“Your blackmail knows no bounds,” she said softly.
“You’d be surprised. But I think that means I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That means I’ll think about it. But not for tomorrow.”
“Oooh, you’re one of those people who needs to think everything through first, huh?”
“I take it you’re one of those people who believe thinking is overrated? I mean, how can I trust a man who doesn’t like cheese on his burger?”
“Cheese is gross, by the way. And you’re trying to throw me off topic.”
“Is it working?”
He liked her already. He returned her attempt with a sinister snicker. “Nice try.”
“Thought I might.”
“I know where you work, lady. Just for that, I’ll come up and pester you.”
She took long to answer. “I’ll have to think about it, but I should hang up now.”
Think about it? “All right, but you owe me twice now.”
“Twice? For what?”
“I bought you lunch today.”
“Did you miss the part where this is a thank you call?”
“And, I sang for you. That was no freebie, sweetheart.” His eyes popped open, but not because she laughed at his audacity, but because she was making him fall asleep. Wonderful. Instantaneous. Pain free sleep. He didn’t want to think about where his headache had gone. He collapsed to his back to grin at the ceiling. “You just can’t help yourself, Blake. You’re gonna ratchet up a heap of IOUs. I’ll keep score.”
“Add on that you fixed my car, why don’t you?”
“Done. That’s three.”
“I’m gonna’ hurt you.”
“Hmmm.” His lids drifted closed. “Violence gets you everywhere.”
“Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Believe it or not, that’s a huge compliment on your part.”
Her girly grunt made him relax even more. “I’m keeping an eye on you, Treasure.”
“Now we’re talkin’.” His voice came out deep and gravelly, and he didn’t stop it.
She gave him a sharp, “Good night, Keir.”
“Don’t go.”
“Good night.”
“Myah.” The accelerated rise and fall of his chest synchronized with the exhale and breath he heard on the line. It felt like he’d known her for years. Turning to the silent phone, he summoned, “Myah.”
Patient, he waited for the breathless, “Yeah?”
In case she missed it the first time. “I am keeping score,” he whispered near sleep. A seriousness had crept into his voice. He brushed it off, heard his own grumble of contentment, and the whisper of a dainty good night before the call ended.