Say It's Forever (Redemption Hills 2)

I tossed my bag onto my shoulder that held the stack of one-hundred-dollar bills Jud had paid me with just before I’d left.

Fifteen of them to be exact.

Yeah, a girl could really get used to this.

The truth was, I loved the job. Loved being a part of a team. Loved pouring myself into the work. Loved being a part of something bigger while being able to help my family at the same time.

Pride welled up. A feeling so foreign. One I hadn’t felt in so long.

I blinked against the weight of it and forced myself to walk up the sidewalk toward the front door, my heels clacking on the concrete. I slid my key into the lock, turned the knob, and cracked open the door.

The delicious smell of pork carnitas simmering on the stove wafted back.

I inhaled the warmth. The welcome of it. The onslaught of memories that rushed as I stepped into the house, tossed my bag to the floor, and clicked the lock to the door behind me.

“Hello?” I called.

“We’re in here, Mommy! You better get your booty in here because it’s almost times for dinner and me and Mimi have been in here sweatin’ in the kitchen all day.” Juni showed at the archway, hands on her hips and full of sass.

A giggle worked its way free. “Is that so?”

She gave a resolute nod. “Yup. Mimi is showin’ me hows to make all the dinners from where she growns up, and sometime I want to go to Mexico on an adventure, but only when we decide and we know for sure we gets to come back.”

Guilt swelled and obliterated the pride.

I hated the scars that had been etched on my daughter.

Seeing her then, I knew she’d come to feel the same about this place.

Comfortable.

Relaxed.

A part of something bigger, too.

This existence more than just the two of us.

As if she’d found home.

And there my child stood, voicing her anxiety that I might have to rip her from the safety of it all over again.

I wanted to drop to my knees and promise her that would never happen.

That we’d found a true refuge.

That we could stay.

But I couldn’t tell my daughter a lie that big.

I forced a smile. “I think that would be a wonderful adventure, Juni Bee.”

“Me, too, sweet child, me, too.” Mimi shouted it from the kitchen.

Love clamored through my chest when I peeked through the archway. Mimi was at the stove, stirring the meat and wearing the same apron I remembered her wearing for my entire childhood.

These tiny pink flowers with a row of three deep pockets in the front.

“How was work?” She arched a knowing brow.

I leaned against the counter. “Busy.”

That brow lifted. “And?”

“And what?”

“How was the eye candy?”

“Mimi,” I chastised, giving her a stern look.

“You means all the really awesome motorcycles and cars?” Juni screeched. “Did you see ’em, Mimi? Gage said his uncle is gonna make him one for when he’s sixteen, and he’s gonna give me a ride, I can’t even wait, we only gots ten years for that, but that’s where my mommy works at the coolest place ever in ever and her boss is a motorcycle man.”

Juni started galloping around the kitchen like she was riding a horse though she made revving noises in her throat and held back the throttle on her imaginary handlebars.

Just awesome.

Mimi laughed, pure affection. “Wow, that is something. Just ten years.”

Her gaze narrowed when she returned it to me while she dipped a spoon into the pot and took a sip of the broth the pork was simmering in. “Though I was getting the idea that your mommy’s boss might be the coolest ever in ever.”

“Mimi,” I chastised again, though this time it was a whisper, and that heat was lighting up my cheeks again.

Damn it.

“You think I don’t notice you waltzing in here night after night with that look on your face? With that light in your eyes? You’re different.”

A frown pinched my brow as Juni galloped into the other room, and Mimi took the opportunity to edge around the counter to where I stood. Reaching out, she rubbed the pad of her thumb between my eyes before she let her hand slide down to cup my cheek. “That light went dim four years ago, Salem. Wasn’t sure I was ever goin’ to get to see it again.”

Grief billowed through my being.

“I’m not sure I can ever get that piece of myself back.” The confession left me on a breath.

“No, sweet child, that part is gone, and that missing piece is going to ache forever. But sometimes someone comes along who can hold that piece with you.”

Agony wept in my spirit while my heart panged in my chest.

A tear slipped free.

Mimi wiped it away. “When I lost your momma, I thought I would die, Salem. I thought I would curl up in bed and close my eyes and I’d somehow float away to where she was.”