CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MYAH SOLDIERED through sniffles, coughs, moans, and shivers. By mid-week when Keir and Haylan dropped off her car, functioning windshield wipers of course, at least she no longer resembled the swamp monster’s ugly cousin.
She’d spied Keir chatting with her neighbor, petting Ekko, and introducing an uninterested Jolie. Different levels of her life collided to include him. The fairytale and the reality. But her knight in dented armor had earned every scuff and scar.
They’d hit a high in their relationship the previous Saturday night, but then Sunday showed her not to get comfortable. She’d wanted to tell Keir to stay, but had been afraid to be the all-compliant, I’ll-smooth-it-out-and-make-it-work girlfriend she’d been with Greg.
She vowed to make it up to him and thanked God that Keir didn’t hold her anxiety against her. The next Sunday, Keir showed up in a plain white shirt and black trousers with another great looking fedora. She’d flown out the door and into his arms where they squished poor Dylan between them in his bear hug.
Miss Violet turned a skeptical eye, although treated him with courtesy, but Ingrid smiled wider and sung a lot louder during that service.
More confident of their foundation, Myah and Dylan went to the three-thousand member Mount Ridge the following week. The large crowd certainly outdid her one-fifty membership, but didn’t intimidate her.
She met more of his church buddies, including one young woman she was certain had a thing for her Keiry. The redhead stayed close to his side and touched him often when Myah wasn’t near. On her second visit a couple of weeks later, Myah sent the message to the young one that clinging to his arm was off limits. Funny how she could tell the world she was his, just not to his face. Wes spoke a message on Teens: Are We Connecting or Killing? She purchased a copy for Ingrid.
Sunday afternoons came and went at her house, where she cooked a hearty meal for Keir and sent him off to work. Evening phone calls made her as excited as seeing him in person.
Myah tried to keep a handle on her emotions. Don’t fall too hard too fast. But what did it say when she got in the habit of taking an incredibly growing Jolie out for Sunday walks with Dylan? Even found the best dog parks. Sleepy Mondays were fine when it meant a good-night visit from Keir after midnight.
May rolled into June, and Dylan’s birthday loomed only a week away. Myah shook her head at the miniature Jeep Keir planned to give him.
“Not while I live and breathe.”
“Look, the hood opens and everything.” Keir polished a hand over the machine, but Myah rolled her eyes and headed for the center of the mall.
Her parents had promised to call on Dylan’s birthday. They hadn’t since her return to Chicago. Would they let Dylan down? If they truly wanted to turn over a new leaf, surely they would have called by now. That lonely echo in her faded with the thought that Keir gave him such rapt attention.
“He’ll be two,” she reminded pointedly, wiggling her fingers so Keir could count the digits.
“The Jeep’s age-appropriate.” He made to bite her fingers, and she snatched them away while he joined her on the escalator.
“Twenty-five is age-appropriate. Don’t grow him up too fast.”
“Think about it. When we want a little private time, he can take off all by his lonesome.”
Keir slipped to the step in front of her. She rested her elbows on his shoulders and reached from behind to sink her fingers into his hair with both hands. Joker. He knew how to butter her up with a tease. “I’d have to front his plates and license, insurance and gas. I’m not ready for that.”
Keir’s eyes wandered her face. He leaned close to her ear to whisper, “Tell me what you’re ready for, My.”
She gripped tighter, but released as they neared the ground floor. No, she wasn’t ready to let him go. How could she not put a voice to her fear? She thought she had, but ran from it. Deep down she knew he wouldn’t turn into Greg or her dad. Especially since he’d hinted for a similar response. I want to. She felt inadequate. Keir deserved someone amazing. Her own parents were distant. Greg couldn’t be bothered. Once Keir saw the real her, he’d leave, too. She’d never recover if he hurt her and Dylan.
“I’m ready to go home,” she said lightly, as though she’d misinterpreted his question. “I think we have enough party favors and Spiderman stickers.”
He swapped the shopping bag to his other hand and took hers as they strolled to the exit. So sorry I hurt you.
KEIR remained silent on the drive home for fear of turning their discussion into a spectacle of a public argument. Myah hid something from him.
He never revealed the guilt he carried over the car accident, so he gave her this, but sooner or later, their secrets would come to light. Was she ashamed to be stuck with him? Waiting for better, like Dyl’s father, to come back into the picture? He’d opened his mouth to say something when they climbed out of the car, but shut it for good measure. Where to start?
They stowed the bags in the basement with the rest of the stash for the upcoming party, and he left her in the kitchen to start lunch while he ran upstairs to pack an overnight bag.
Haylan taking off for a weekend was part of his sabbatical, and rather than disrupt Neely’s routine, Keir didn’t think it anything to reprise his role as her half father.
He thought about it as he rolled clothes to stuff in the duffle bag. He’d hesitated at what people would think if he became a father to Dylan, yet never thought twice about prying Neely from his weeping brother years ago to show her that not all men were supposed to walk around like zombies and let her starve.
And Dylan could be his. He would never let that cute kid wonder if a father loved him.
Keir blew air out of his puffed cheeks. He did love Dylan, didn’t he?
His back turned to the door, he snapped out of mind-wanderings when quiet footfalls entered the room. Myah stood at his closet, then came over with a shirt to lay on his jeans for church tomorrow.
“After we pick up Dylan from Skye’s I’m going home. I have a lot to think about, so I’ll call it an early afternoon.”
He turned to her. “Think about what?”
“What?” Blink.
He let her in on his irritation. “What’s to think about, Myah?” What they hadn’t discussed this afternoon?
She shrugged. “Just things.” Shutting him out.
He turned to his clothes. “Fine. I got some reconfiguring to do, too.”
A strangled noise croaked like she stopped herself from asking what. She stood beside him and slipped the dress shirt from the hanger. Softly she smiled. “Nice. I haven’t seen this shirt before. You’ll look great in it.”
“Steph only gave it to me last week.”
“Steph?”
“You met her.”
“Her? Crush girl?”
“Who?”
“Wait. Wait. Stephanie from church bought this shirt for you?”
Not vibing the look in her eye, he riffled through his toiletries.
“And you wear it?”
Are we having a PMS day? “It’s clothes. I wear it.”
“You don’t see a problem with her doing that? How old is she?”
“She’s—I don’t know—what’s that got to do with anything? Old enough to know if she wants to do a favor for someone.”
Myah closed her eyes and scratched an eyelid. “Let me get this straight. A girl you know from church buys you clothes, and you don’t stop her?”
Stop her? “She’s helpful, why would I stop her? If someone makes life easier by doing things around here or buying stuff for me, what’s the big deal?”
“Doing..? She’s the one? The cleaning lady! You gonna let her come here and iron your clothes and wash your underwear, and play housewife while you go off doing your own thing? You’re using her.”
First of all, Myah knew his cleaning lady didn’t go anywhere near his laundry. Keir’s face hurt from scrunching so much. Were they arguing about someone giving him a hand? “Say what?”
“Do you pay her?”
“Pay her?” Keir whipped the grooming bag on the bed. They were answering questions with more questions. For the past couple of weeks Myah barely acknowledged she wanted to continue seeing him, she’d mentioned whatshisface’s name a few more times like she’d grown comfortable saying it, now she didn’t want anyone else to lend a hand to his hectic schedule? A schedule he crammed to spend more time with her? “What are you accusing me of?”
“A woman coming to a man’s home and being domestic without there being an official relationship—she’s looking for a relationship, Keir. You know Greg used me like that.”
You’ve got to be kidding. If she mentioned that name one more time… “You think I’m using Stephanie? Any other services you think I’m after?” He watched Myah’s eyes widen, she looked straight up mad, but then it all made sense. “You think I’m going to come on to her. There’s nothing between her and me to come on to. Yes I pay her, I look at her family’s van sometimes. It’s business, not like you and whatshisname. You wanted to do those things to get closer to him.” Big. Mistake.
“Are you saying I deserved to be used?”
“You know I’m n—”
“Because no one deserves to be laughed at and walked over like that.”
“Did he ever tell you there was nothing between you before you decided to make him his favorite meals? Did you quit doing what you were doing? Think you ‘won him over’ in the end, Myah?” Her face showed him the latter. Man, he wanted to tell her that when a guy doesn’t return attention, it’s not his way of playing hard to get.
“Have you told Stephanie there’s nothing between you?”
“Steph hasn’t shown any interest.”
He double-checked his conscience when Myah gave him a sharp look. Steph was one of many young people around Wes. She’d clung at times—Keir brushed his arm—but he’d never seriously thought about it. She liked to bake. She cooked on occasion. He closed his eyes and stifled a moan.
Telling her nothing could happen might cause her to think she’d awakened some sort of feelings. She was pretty. A couple of his younger friends mentioned her looks, but she did nothing for him. Not like Myah. Even before he’d figured out he was attracted, she’d dialed his attention.
“It didn’t cross my mind.” Keir gathered the spilled toiletries.
“Right. ’Cause she does favors for everybody.”
“She’s just a kid, all right? Way too young.”
“She’s twenty maybe? You thought I was younger when we first went out.”
“As in twenty-four, twenty-five, not green out of your teens! Look, I’m not interested in her. Never have been. Why would I look at her like that?”
“What, it’s never crossed—”
“I’m not arguing with you about this, Myah.”
“You ever—?”
“I’m not arguing with you!”
Myah snapped her mouth shut and crossed her arms under a heavy exhale. After a full minute of not looking at each other, she turned back. “I’m not worried about you becoming interested. I’m worried about her feelings. It’s better to know the truth than to hang on hurting. I’d rather cut ties and hurt for a time, than to go on like a fool indefinitely.”
He flashed his gaze to meet hers and she looked away. Her sentiment rang of Dylan’s father. She may have remembered whatshisname when she’d said those things, but she’d been talking about the here and now.
Keir took the crumpled shirt from her hand and tossed it toward the floor of the closet. “Why would you think I’d hurt you? When have I not told you the truth or ever made you look like a fool?”
Her jaw tightened.
When she didn’t answer, he threw up his hands. Unbelievable. “You don’t want to go out with me, fine. Don’t try to drive a wedge between us to do it.” He turned back to packing. Angered. Myah planned every tick and nibble of her life except for when it came to solidifying their future. Yeah, doc. It’s in my head, but... “I’m not him.”
I’M not him. Myah unlocked the door to her house and slipped inside, leaning against it to gather strength. Dylan tromped ahead and veered to the left, arms raised high to fly his trucks into the living room. Totally oblivious to her pain. That’s how she wanted it.
Her face scrunched. She sagged against the door when a burning sob rolled up her chest to her throat. If she’d waited for Keir to finish, maybe they could have talked. But she’d whispered, “I’ll go now,” and drove to Skye’s like nothing had happened.
He’d show his true colors if she pushed hard enough. What man stayed sweet and patient where she was concerned? He’d abandon her and Dylan in the end. That’s what men do. Dad. Greg. Save yourself the agony and get out unscathed.
Unscathed?
Her inner time bomb lurched forward. Tick. Tick. Go ahead, blow off a good man. Tick. It’s safe, if that’s what makes you sleep at night.
Dylan sprawled on the floor, growling his zoom-zoom noises with a dump truck. Myah thought of the baby Jeep Keir wanted to buy. An item to help them bond while playing under the hood. She covered her mouth to stifle the low wail of pain. A sorrowful smile broke out at the same time. Keir and his family brought out the bright side of her son. In these few months he’d grown confident, a mirror to the inner strength she saw in the absolute solid man.
“Keir.” She whispered his name, hoping he’d hear from across the miles.
She didn’t want to be without him, but how could she stay when some part of her starved out any type of love? But Dylan would be the next to go; disappointed, withdrawn into his former shell. Maybe she’d blown it with all of their lives already.
A shot ran through the door. Myah jumped off and looked around at her surroundings to capture a sense of security after the loud knock. She peeped out the window. That knock must have rattled her senses more than she thought. It played tricks on her mind. Her vision blurred when a broad-shouldered figure filled the other side of the glass. A casual, button-down shirt and fitted jeans swayed as the visitor moved from one foot to the other.
When life played a joke…
Myah wiped her face and sniffled. She willed power to her limbs in a deep breath. Unlocking the door, she prayed for a clear mind. It must be in vain. A bald head, deep, sunken eyes, thin goatee and thick neck, sensuously showcased on caramel skin, brought her back to a gullible girl.
“Myah.”
She curled an arm around her middle and stepped out of the way to let him in. “Greg.”