The Secrets That Find Us (The Devils Dust MC Legacy)

Not wanting Penelope to hear them, I walk over to her and hold my hand out for her to grab. Five little fingers slip into my palm and I suddenly feel massive in comparison. She’s so tiny and fragile. Gently closing my hand around hers, I take her to the kitchen to see if we can’t find a snack and something to drink.

“Do you need a sippy cup?” Looking down to her, she glances up at me.

“No.” Her cute little voice answers back.

I push the doors open to the kitchen and she sits in a chair at the round table and looks around the room. I can only imagine what she’s been through the last few days, stuff a four-year-old shouldn’t, I know that. I get a clean glass from the drainer, open the fridge and spot some orange juice in the back. That’ll work.

I pour half a glass and give it to her. She stares at me for a few seconds before finally setting her frog down and grabbing the glass with both of her hands.

“Can you drink out of a cup or do you need a bottle or something?”

“I got it,” she says with confidence.

Little blue eyes peering above the rim of the cup before she brings it to her lips and takes a big drink. Some slips down her chin and dribbles onto her shirt. Then a lot more spills from the sides and drips to the floor. Noticing she’s making a mess, she lets go of the glass and it falls to the ground and smashes into pieces.

She quickly steps back and loudly cries.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Picking her up under the arms, I hold her and bounce and she quiets down, laying her head down on my shoulder like she’s tired. I freeze, she must be tired. Feeling a little like Adam Sandler in the movie Big Daddy, I rub her back and bounce her again to keep her from crying. Her warm little body against mine, I notice her breathing slow as if she’s falling asleep. She has one hand clamped on to the foot of her frog, letting him dangle, and the other wrapped around my neck. I’ve never held a kid before. I don’t have a big family, just my mother, who God knows is where. Sometimes little kids would ask for my autograph when I used to bull ride, but that was as close as I got. I never thought about having kids of my own either, then again, I never thought I’d be a one-woman kind of guy.

The kitchen doors open and Delilah rushes in, obviously looking for the child, and comes to a screeching halt when she sees me holding her. Her hand slowly comes to her lips, her eyes red from crying.

“She was thirsty, I asked her if she could drink out of a cup and she said yes but I don’t think she can.” I point to the broken glass on the floor, and Delilah silently laughs.

She walks over to us and runs her hand through Penelope’s hair while she sleeps. Her eyes looking her over with a gaze I’ve never seen before. Not from her anyway.

“Is it shameless of me to want to be her mom, to keep her from her other family?” Her eyes look to mine for advice.

“What do you want?”

She blows out a breath and takes a step back, looking the little girl over. Conflict in her eyes, she bites her bottom lip and places her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know that I deserve a second chance. I mean, who am I to take her away from a life she’s lived? I don’t have a job, a house…”

“Sounds like all material shit, D. If you feel like you can love her and be her mom then do it, if—”

“I’ve always loved her,” she interrupts, her bottom lip trembling. “I was a kid when I gave her up for adoption. I was scared and alone, I didn’t have anybody to help me raise a child, and I’m not talking about my parents. I didn’t have her dad to help.” She shrugs as if she’s trying to defend her actions to me, but really she’s trying to tell herself why she did it.

“So, what’s different now?”

Her eyes snap to mine, and she wipes back her tears. “I’m not scared anymore. I can take care of her on my own, I don’t need anybody.” Her voice cracks, and she steps back over to us, running her hand down Penelope’s back.

“Then I think you answered your own question, D.”

Her emerald green eyes stare at me as she takes it in, and she slowly nods her head.

“I’m keeping her,” she whispers, determination in her eyes.

I can’t help but smile and feel happy for her. A daughter needs her mother, there’s not another best option.