Jesus.
She took the picture and put it back on the nightstand, then grabbed the other one, showing it to him. “Dis Junie’s.”
The picture was taken outside. Rosie’s grandfather was standing with one arm outstretched a few feet away from a lanky teenage Leah, as if he’d just nudged her. He was smirking, and Leah was laughing. She had her arm around a much younger River’s shoulder, leaning on him. Her body was slightly angled, legs crossed at the ankle, her other hand on her hip. River held up one palm to the sky with an expression that said, What do I look like? A leaning post? Both of them had wild, spiral curls, though River’s hair was lighter than Leah’s.
Sadness moved through Tank.
Rosie put the picture back and grabbed Tank’s pinkie, leading him into the living room, to the front window. She pointed to a picture on the windowsill. “Dat’s Wiver’s.”
In the picture, Leah was sitting on a chair holding Junie, who looked to be about two, on her lap, and beside her, River sat holding a tiny baby, who must have been Rosie, grinning like he couldn’t be happier. Junie was leaning over the baby, with a fistful of River’s hair, and Leah had her arm around the back of River’s chair, peering over Junie’s head at River, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.
Where the hell was the father of those babies?
Rosie tugged his pinkie. “I hungwy. I get Wiver.” She toddled over to the recessed staircase between the bedrooms and started climbing them.
It took Tank a second to realize that must be River’s bedroom, and he intercepted her, lifting her right off the steps. “I’ll get you breakfast.”
She petted his beard as he carried her to the bar and put her on a chair by the plate of doughnuts and pastries. She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. “Pincakes!”
He didn’t know a single kid who would turn down sweets for breakfast, but this little one seemed to know exactly what she wanted. “Sure.”
She turned, sliding on her stomach off the chair, and ran to the cabinet beside the stove. She pulled out a large plastic bowl, then opened the pantry door and held the lowest shelf as she stretched on her tippy-toes, reaching for the too-high box of pancake mix. Tank snagged it and put it on the counter. Rosie ran to the fridge. She grabbed the door handle with both hands, planting her feet together, and tugged with all her might.
Tank chuckled at the determined tyke. He put his fingers on the top of the refrigerator door and said, “Pull harder.”
Her tiny brows knitted, and when she tugged, he pushed it open, earning an elfish grin. She grabbed a plastic container of blueberries and put them on the counter with the bowl. Tank scooped her up and set her on the counter, too, and together they began making pancakes.
They were stirring the mix when the bedroom door cracked open, and Junie’s little face peered out.
“We make pincakes!” Rosie called over to her.
Junie stepped tentatively out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She held her stuffed rabbit by the ears. Her expression was solemn, her brow furrowed as she walked over and climbed onto a chair at the bar, watching them.
“Dis Tank.” Rosie patted his arm. “Mama’s fwiend.”
Junie’s expression didn’t change.
Tank pushed Rosie to the back of the counter so her legs were straight. “Don’t move.”
She wiggled her toes, giggling.
He drew his brows together, and she stopped wiggling. He turned to Junie and leaned his forearms on the bar. “Hi.”
She stared sullenly at him, and his chest constricted. Did she understand what she’d seen yesterday? Or was she just as wary of him as Leah was?
“Is your mama still sleeping?” He took her silence as a yes. “Would you like to help make pancakes?”
Her eyes darted to Rosie, then back to Tank.
“I could use some help figuring out how to do it right.”
“Help, Juju!” Rosie exclaimed.
Junie eyed Tank for a moment before she climbed down and went to Rosie, reaching for her hand.
“How about I put you on the counter with your sister?”
Junie nodded, and he lifted her, putting her on the other side of the bowl. She picked up the bowl, scooted over so she was pressed against Rosie’s side, and put the bowl in their laps.
Okay, then. He held up the blueberries. “Go to it.”
The girls looked at each other, and then Rosie grabbed a blueberry and ate it.
“They’re for the pancakes,” Junie said, putting a few blueberries in the bowl as Rosie grabbed a handful.
“Here.” Rosie opened her hand toward Junie, and blueberries rolled out onto their legs.
Rosie giggled, and the edges of Junie’s lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself. They scrambled to pick up the berries, and Rosie popped two into her mouth as fast as she could, while Junie held hers in her fist, looking at the bowl.
“Hey, Twitch.” Tank waited for Junie to look up at him. He winked, then plucked a blueberry out of the container and put it in his mouth.
Junie’s lips twitched again. He nodded, and she looked at the blueberries in her hand.
“Twitch.” Rosie giggled. “Eat ’em!”
Junie brought her hand to her mouth, smiling as she ate them.
Tank grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and put half the blueberries in it. “These are for you two to eat. The rest are for the pancakes.”
“Mickey Mouse pancakes,” Junie said, sullen-faced again.
“I don’t know, Twitch. I might need some help with that.”
Her lips twitched into an almost smile again.
“Think you girls can help me?”
They nodded eagerly.
As the girls put the rest of the blueberries in the pancake mix, Rosie chattered endlessly. She reminded him of Ashley when she was young, full of joyous energy. Tank couldn’t understand half of what Rosie said, but her cheery little voice was fucking adorable, and Junie seemed to understand her, because every few seconds she’d nod or say something. They were like tiny lights, flashing on and off in a dark time. Tank’s mother’s voice whispered through his mind. Food fuels your body, but children nourish your soul. He was starting to see what she meant.
He hated knowing that Junie and Rosie probably had no idea that River was gone, and when they did, it would likely steal some of that light. He wanted to scoop them up and protect them from the truth.
The bedroom door opened as they were cooking the pancakes. Tank was holding Junie, who had a death grip on the silver chain around his neck, and Rosie was sitting on the counter beside the stove, yammering about Tank having ear holes like her mama, which he figured out meant that he wore earrings.
“Mama!” Rosie yelled something about making pincakes as Tank’s and Leah’s eyes collided.
He held his breath at Leah’s confused expression, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. Her gaze softened as she walked toward them in jeans and a pretty sweater, her half-dry hair tangled, sheet prints on her cheek. The urge to hold her hit hard, and it took everything Tank had not to reach for her.
LEAH TRIED TO pull her thoughts together. Where was Ginger, and what was Tank doing there? She didn’t know what to make of the man she’d tried to keep her distance from cooking pancakes with her girls. He was so big, he made her kitchen feel too small. He looked fierce in his black T-shirt and leather vest with Dark Knights patches, and at the same time, with Junie in his arms, he looked like a gentle giant. Junie had one arm around his thick neck, and she was holding his silver chain, like she used to hold River’s, which sent Leah’s heart reeling.