Show Me the Way (Fight for Me 1)

“What is it you want?” I barely managed. Groaning deep, I strained harder against her, wondering just how horrible of a parent I’d be if I stripped her right there and fucked her against the wall.

“This. You. Us. Frankie.”

At her confession, I froze, my heart going stone in the center of my chest before it started thudding. Thudding with possibility.

I pulled back to search her eyes through the darkness. The air was bogged down with humidity, the residual of the storm a wet mist coating our heated skin.

She stared back.

No reservations.

No fear.

Just blatant, unblemished hope. A beacon calling me out of the storm.

“I . . .” All the bullshit that still haunted my life stalled my words, the promise I wanted to give her freezing on my tongue. Because the last thing I wanted was to do her wrong.

Hurt flashed through her expression before it filled with soft understanding. Because that was just the way this girl was—flush with grace. Too good to be real. She edged back a fraction to search my face. Reluctantly, I released her, helping her slide down onto her feet.

I stood there, a shadow blocking all that light.

She tilted her head, her hand on the side of my face. “Do you still love her?”

My chest grew so damned tight I was sure it was going to explode.

“Your ex-wife?” she pressed.

That was the problem. Her hunch was off base. Thrown in the wrong direction. But when it came down to it, Frankie’s mother was the problem. That stupid fucking loyalty I’d clung to for far too long.

It lashed at me, a scourge of regret.

“Fuck, Rynna,” I whispered harshly, the ground swept right out from under me. “I—” I averted my gaze to the wooden planks, struggling to find the correct answer to her question. Because she deserved to know, and still, I didn’t know how to tell her.

Warily, I shifted my attention back to her and plucked out the only honesty I could find. “When it comes to Frankie’s mom? The only emotion I can process is hate.” I blinked, swallowing hard. My insides burned. Flames. Unrelenting hell. “But then I wonder if I have the right to hate her. Not when I was the one who drove her away.”

“She left you. She left Frankie. I don’t know the circumstances. But for that alone? I hate her. I hate her for the simple fact that she could possibly walk away from you two. If I had been given a gift like that, I wouldn’t ever have let it go.”

A soft puff of air escaped my throat, and I wound an arm around her waist and pulled her against me. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Rynna.”

Rynna.

Fucking Rynna.

Little Thief.

Trying to steal my heart.

Frankie squealed, clapping her hands as she dropped to her knees on our front porch. The tiny puppy scuttled toward her, jumping up on her chest, licking her face. “Daddy! Daddy! It’s a puppy. Look. It’s a puppy. It’s the cutest puppy in the whole wide world.”

She hugged the wiggling body against her probably a little too tightly, but the little ball of fur just went wilder, clawing up her chest to get closer to her face so he could lick her like he’d found his long lost best friend.

Unfortunately, Frankie was under the impression she’d found hers.

Shrieks of laughter rang in the air. “Daddy! He’s kissin’ me. He’s kissin’ me. I fink he loves me.”

The sight of it sent a rock sinking straight to the pit of my stomach.

My gaze cut to Rynna, who was standing there watching the two of them with an affected smile on her face. Her eyes were full of an emotion I wasn’t sure I was ready to recognize.

A lump formed in my throat. Heavy. As heavy as that rock that sat in the pit of my stomach. It only grew when Rynna edged forward and knelt in front of Frankie. Then she reached out and gently ran her hand over the puppy’s head, her gaze growing even softer as she looked at my daughter.

“He’s a golden retriever. What do you think we should name him?” she asked.

“How’s about Milo? Milo’s my friend at school who’s a boy and he’s so nice and this puppy is a boy so I finks we should name him Milo because he’s nice, too.”

Rynna didn’t even skip a beat at the ramble that fell from Frankie’s mouth. She just let her smile grow, glancing down at the puppy. He was currently on his hind legs thinking he could jump his way onto Rynna’s lap. “He is a nice boy, isn’t he?” she cooed, letting the puppy lick her face. “Milo it is, then.”

“Milo! I love Milo! I love Milo. Can I take him for a walk? Do you gots a leash?”