“Are we done with this shit?” Lucas asked, once again hitting one of the racks with his sword.
Mack couldn’t help smiling in spite of being all twisted up inside. What a little hellion. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you are my son,” he muttered to himself and started going through the windows.
* * *
It felt nice to have a break from Lucas. As much as Natasha loved him, it was so much harder to deal with her own emotions while she was also trying to make sure he was happy, well cared for, entertained and shielded, as much as possible, from the more difficult aspects of the divorce. She’d thought her ex would help more, but the divorce had brought out the worst in Ace. Determined to be free to focus on his own life, he was pretty much expecting her to take care of Lucas, even when it came to child support, since he didn’t have a job. His wealthy parents were helping him get by, and she had no one to lean on until she could get back on her feet, but he didn’t seem to care whether she had money, even though it wasn’t just she who would suffer if she couldn’t buy groceries.
She supposed she shouldn’t be too critical of him when it came to money matters, however. After all, she’d been the primary breadwinner. It made sense that he’d expect her to take care of herself. But he knew that she was struggling, and he knew why. That should’ve made a difference.
He just didn’t care. That was the bottom line. And she suspected he preferred she be the one who had to babysit so she wouldn’t have the opportunity to find someone else.
Little did he know, she didn’t want to get into another relationship. She’d never marry again, never risk her peace of mind or her financial well-being, let alone her heart. She was so done with that. Since she was sixteen, she’d tried to give Mack everything she had, and he hadn’t wanted it. So she’d tried to give Ace everything she had left. And it hadn’t been enough.
She refused to keep trying, to wind up as a carbon copy of her mother, who’d been with so many different men over the years that Natasha couldn’t even remember them all.
Exhausted, she stopped sweeping and rested her head on her hands. How many “fathers” had she had? Some of her mother’s lovers had only been around for a few weeks, and yet Anya had insisted Natasha call each one Daddy. It was a pathetic attempt to draw the man in and get him to commit. But it never worked—at least, not for long. J.T., Mack’s dad, was probably the longest relationship she’d ever had, and that was because he was in prison for the first part of the marriage.
Natasha was going to live her life differently—with some dignity—even if it meant being alone.
All she wanted to do was collapse into a chair, but, drawing a deep breath, she summoned the energy to finish sweeping. She had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and appreciate all the little things. That was how she’d get through this dark time. In this moment, she could clean without having to worry about Lucas getting near the rat droppings or trying to escape out the front gate, where he could get into the street. That was something.
Thank God.
Actually, she could thank Mack. He was the one who was helping her—the only one who’d come to her rescue. That meant it would be difficult not to be too grateful to him. Having his support when she felt so lost and broken would naturally soften her heart toward him. He always did things like that, things that made her believe he cared.
He probably did care to some degree, or he wouldn’t do anything, but she had to remember that it wasn’t in the way she’d always wanted him to care. She couldn’t let the nice things he did cloud her judgment. No way would she put her son through anything remotely similar to what she’d been through as a child. The only father Lucas knew was Ace, and it was going to stay that way.
She’d opened the windows to air out the place, so she could hear the car when Mack and Lucas returned. She wished the errand had taken them longer, wished for an additional couple of hours in which she could take a nap. But at least she’d had ninety minutes of silence in which she’d been able to accomplish a few things.
“Mom! We’re back!” Lucas yelled as he came running up the steps and into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him.
“Were you able to find the right window?” She turned, expecting her son to rush into her arms, but he had his hands full, and he was so eager to reach her that he nearly tripped.
“No, but we got you these!”
He was holding a bouquet of red and white tulips. Her favorite.
The sight of them—the simple beauty of them—made her throat grow tight.
It was the exhaustion, she told herself. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep for months, and it was beginning to bring her emotions to the surface.
Afraid Mack would be able to tell that she’d choked up for no reason, she was careful not to look at him when he came in.
“Thank you,” she told Lucas as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”
Her son smiled proudly. “Uncle Mack said you used to plant them in the front yard when you lived with him.”
She’d forgotten about that. She’d tried to add a few feminine touches to the all-male home—had cooked and cleaned and planted flowers to spruce up the place—in an attempt to repay them for taking her and her mother in. They’d basically been homeless. What would’ve happened to her if Mack and his brothers hadn’t done that? Her own mother had been too caught up in getting her next fix, whether that was a man or the drugs she used, to keep a roof over their heads or even notice what her daughter needed.
Mack was carrying a bag of groceries in each arm, which he put on the kitchen counter. “We couldn’t find the right size of window,” he said to her, “but I’m going to check online. You hungry? I got stuff to make sandwiches.”
She was starving. She hadn’t had anything to eat today except the carrots Lucas had refused to finish from the sack lunch she’d given him on the drive. But she didn’t want to rely on Mack in any way, not more than she could help it, at least. “No, I’m fine. I ate on the drive,” she lied and pretended to be completely uninterested in what he’d purchased as she searched for a container for the flowers.
There were a couple of dusty old mason jars in the pantry. She rinsed one out and carefully arranged the flowers before putting them on the counter with the groceries. She had to admit, the splash of color lifted her spirits. As insanely busy as she’d been, she hadn’t stopped to admire a bouquet of flowers in...forever. With summer coming on, she’d all but missed spring.
As she set to work cleaning the kitchen, Mack made her a sandwich anyway. He used a plastic fork to spread the mayonnaise and mustard and put the finished sandwich on a paper towel on the counter.
Since she was hungry, and it would go to waste if she didn’t eat it, she took it and sat on the floor, where she could use the wall to support her back while she ate.