Until Talon (Until Him 4)

I don’t need another man to come in and reinforce my ideas about the male species. I need to focus on the good things I have going for me and work at creating a life for myself, one where I know I will never ever be dependent on a man.

CHAPTER 2

Mia

I PARK MY car in my sister’s driveway and turn off the engine. As soon as silence settles over me, I let my head fall back to the headrest. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, and I’m exhausted. I’ve talked to Ken every week, and he’s assured me that as soon as he gets approval from the structural engineer that the dealership can open, I’ll have my job back, but so far, that hasn’t happened. In the meantime, I’ve been working at the bar where my sister works, taking the lunch shift, which means I’ve taken a huge pay cut. Then again, I’m lucky to have a job at all, even if the money I make is eaten up quickly with just day-to-day costs and helping my sister out right now.

I let out a cleansing breath then open my eyes. As much as I want to just stay here in the silence for a few minutes longer, I know that in the house a few feet away, my sister is surrounded by chaos. Before her husband’s affair, she was a stay-at-home mom with only a high school diploma. Now, she bartends in the evenings and is going to school online during the day to get her teaching license, something she always wanted to do. I’m proud of her, proud she is taking control of her life and working on bettering herself. Still, I’m pissed she’s let Mike—who is still technically her husband—off the hook by denying any help from him. Part of me resents it, but I have to give him props, because he is still a great dad, and every month, he pays what he’s supposed to and even asks if more is needed. Not that my hardheaded sister will accept anything extra from him.

With a frustrated sigh, I pick up my bag from the passenger seat then open the door. I slam it closed with my hip then head up the sidewalk to the front door of the four-bedroom brick house my sister lives in. The first time I saw her house, I thought it looked like a smaller version of the house from Home Alone—red brick, with black shutters and white pillars out front, accentuating the entryway.

The closer I get to the front door, the louder the shouts and laughter from inside become. I smile as I punch in the code for the lock, and when it clicks open, I walk inside. “Hey, my babies.” I squat down to greet Mercury and Retro who are both lying in Retro’s bed near the door, neither of them even attempting to get up, probably exhausted after playing with the girls when they got home from school. I rub them down as their tails and chubby bodies wag in excitement.

I adopted both my girls five years ago from a guy parked at the grocery store with a sign saying he had free puppies. I didn’t plan on getting a puppy that day but couldn’t help taking a peek. The guy told me they were bulldogs and something else. I didn’t care what breed they were; I just knew I had to have them when I fell instantly in love. My girls are nearly twins, except where Mercury is all white, Retro has one beige-colored ear.

After I give them both head rubs, I drop my purse on top of the growing pile of bags, jackets, and other odds and ends just inside the entryway then walk down the long hallway that leads into the kitchen and living room. As soon as I reach the end of the hall, I see my sister Cece in the kitchen with her back to me and her phone to her ear. My six-year-old niece Ruby is standing at the counter, mixing something that is bright green in a glass bowl. My nine-year-old twin nieces Lola and Kate sit across the island from her, each of them on their iPads, Kate probably playing a game while Lola is most likely reading.

“Mimi!” Ruby shouts when she spots me, and I squat down as she hops off the stool and runs toward me then laugh when she hits me at full force.

“Hey, Little Miss Trouble.” I kiss the side of her head as she wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I palm the back of her head as I stand. “Have you been good today?” I ask, and she leans back, smiling her crooked smile and showing off her one missing front tooth.

“I’m always good.” I raise a brow, and her smile grows. “What? I am always good.”