There’s more teasing, lightness, but what I like the most is that it doesn’t feel like we have to make a thing out of it just now.
The air’s easier between us, and she likes it, judging by how she keeps on beaming like the sun.
I like it, too.
It feels good to be out and about with her, the Jeep’s top down briefly to let the winter breeze wash over us. She asked me how it works, so I showed her.
Then Peace lifts her hands up, letting out this soft whoop like she’s riding a roller coaster, her cheeks flushed with the chill and her eyes so bright.
Yeah.
Shit.
This woman does things to my heart.
It’s hard remembering she’s too young for me. Not when she makes me feel like I’m the man I was before this bastard leg injury and the scars on my heart flayed me apart.
I sober up a little as we pull into the driveway back at my place.
Light’s on in the upstairs window.
And there’s angry heavy metal music thumping through the walls.
Andrea’s home.
And my little violet and I need to have a talk.
I guess Peace picks up on the vibe. She goes sober as I park and cut the engine, scrubbing nervously at her cheeks.
“Hey,” she asks softly. “Everything okay?”
“Yep.” I flash her a smile. “Give me a sec, will you? I just need a few words with Andrea to let her know you’ll be staying. Then we’ll get everything unloaded and hauled up to your room.”
The look on her face says she doesn’t quite believe me—like that’s all it is.
With a gentle smile, she lets it go, squeezing my arm again with those warm, nimble fingers—I swear I feel her heat even through those silly yarn gloves—before unlocking her passenger door and slipping out.
“I’ll get a head start,” she says. “Hopefully Andrea won’t mind having another chick trying to sort her crap out up in her space.”
I chuckle, but I’m not really feeling it.
It’s go time, and I have no earthly clue how Andrea will react.
I pick up the heaviest suitcase, two birds with one stone, and heft it over my shoulder before I turn to follow her inside.
The music is deafening, so I guess it’s a good thing we ain’t got much to say to each other as we trek upstairs. I leave Peace with her bag and the case of oils she hauled in, tucking her away in her room before heading to Andrea’s to knock on the door.
I don’t think the girl even hears it over the racket.
“Andrea?” I call, pounding on the door harder. “Yo, Andrea!”
The music dies down for a second.
Then up again.
Damn her.
I haven’t even done anything yet, and she’s already mad at me.
I try the door, and…yep.
Locked.
I’ve got a key, sure. I mean, I respect my daughter’s autonomy and privacy and I’m not gonna barge in on her unless it’s critical, but I’m also a firefighter.
If something happens, I’m not gonna let a locked door keep me from saving my daughter in a crisis.
I’m just trying to figure out how much of an emergency this load of bull is.
I sigh, closing my eyes, thunking my head against the door hard enough to make it rattle.
“Please,” I say. “Open the hell up.”
And the music cuts off.
I straighten up, blinking.
A few seconds later the door opens. Just a crack, enough for Andrea’s wary, suspicious face to peek out, just a sliver of her nose and mouth plus one eye.
“What,” she mutters. “You cleaned out Mom’s stuff. Why?”
Oh.
That’s why she’s mad at me. I wasn’t thinking.
Of course she saw the guest room when she came home.
“Didn’t clean it out,” I say. “It’s packed up in the attic. It’s still there, baby girl. That’s your stuff now when you want it. I just needed the room. Thing is, somebody might be threatening Peace, so she’s gonna stay with us for a while.”
“What?!” Andrea’s eyes widen.
She actually opens the door fully, peering down the hall at the square of light spilling out of the guest room.
“Peace is staying here?” she gasps, and that sullen edge is gone from her voice. “Really?”
Peace leans out from the guest room with a grin and waves.
“Really!” she says and tosses a wink at Andrea.
My daughter lights up.
“Cool.”
Peace disappears again with a laugh, while I let out a sigh of relief, offering a dry smile. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you since you were out, and it was kind of sudden. It’s only temporary—”
“It’s fine, Dad!” Andrea says, her eyes gleaming.
I blink.
I think my daughter’s got a case of heroine worship for the hippie girl down the hall.
Fine. Peace ain’t a bad girl.
Not a bad girl at all.
Big heart, kind of flighty, but she’s got common sense where it counts and she’s smart as hell, plucky, brave.
I can think of worse people for my daughter to admire.