“I mean, she is, right? Only boyfriends and girlfriends kiss. Andy asked me to be his girlfriend so he could kiss me. But I told him no because he smells funny.”
Who the fuck was this Andy kid and why did Holden have an overwhelming need to find the boy and tell him to stay the hell away from Faith?
“Who’s Andy?” he grumbled.
“A boy in my class. He’s nice but I don’t want to kiss him.”
“Of course you don’t. Boys are gross.”
That was what he was supposed to say, right? That was better than telling her boys were horny little fucks with one-track minds and she was staying away from all boys until she was twenty-five. At that time, they’d reevaluate the situation, possibly extending the ban on penises until she was thirty. Yeah, that was better. Thirty. She could date when she was thirty. Most guys had their shit together by then.
“You’re a boy and you kiss Mom.”
Damn. That backfired.
“I’m not a boy, doll. I’m a man.”
Faith tilted her cute little head in confusion and Holden quickly changed the subject, not wanting to explain the difference.
“Is it okay with you if your mom is my girlfriend?”
“Sure.” Faith shrugged and Holden released the breath he’d been holding. “I heard Uncle Jameson tell Aunt Kennedy you’d make Mom happy.”
It amazed him that just a week ago, he’d been deliriously jealous of his friend’s relationship with Faith. Now he was eternally grateful she had good men in her life who would look out for her. And as it were, help pave the way for him being in Charleigh and Faith’s lives.
“I’ll make you happy, too, Faith.”
An odd expression marred her pretty face, and when she averted her gaze, Holden started to worry.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s a bastard?”
Holden’s heart sank and he prayed to God Faith hadn’t overheard him calling Paul a bastard. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Grandma Bea called me a bastard child.”
What. The. Actual. Motherfuck.
Fucking bitch.
“You’re not that, Faith. Beatrice was being mean. It is not a nice word and a grandmother should never speak to her grandchild that way.”
A gold medal was in Holden's future, he was sure of it. Fuck that, he deserved more than a medal, he deserved a great big, huge plaque that he could hang on his wall for holding his tongue and not saying what was really on his mind which was—Beatrice and Patricia Towler were total cunts. Who spoke like that to a child? Especially one who was your blood? Nothing could ever excuse Paul’s behavior, but Holden did wonder how the man had escaped those two relatively intact. They were vipers.
“I don’t want to have to see her again. She makes me feel funny.”
Jesus, fuck.
“You won’t ever have to see her or Patty again,” he vowed. “What does that mean? She makes you feel funny?”
Holden hoped to God they hadn’t hurt her more than he already knew about or he’d post the bitches’ bail himself, then he’d be the one waiting for them when they got out of jail.
“I don’t know. My stomach hurts when she talks. She says bad things about Mom. I don’t like it. And she always says I ruined her life. She thinks me and Mom stole something from her.”
The fucking money. It always came down to the goddamned money.
“Your mom didn’t steal anything from them.”
“I know that. Mom says stealing is bad.”
“Your mom’s right, it is. I’m sorry Bea was mean to you, doll. But that’s over for you and your mom. Neither of you will have to see them again.”
“Because they’re in jail?”
“No, honey, because I will never let them get anywhere near you guys again.”
Faith looked like she had more to say, but as the seconds ticked by, she remained quiet so Holden prompted, “Do you have any other questions?”
“When can we move in with you?”
“When you and your mom are ready.”
Faith nodded and went back to eating her sundae.
Holden did not eat his; anxiety churned in his gut. He was all for the three of them living together as soon as possible. But something struck him as strange that Faith would ask the question. She was eight. Sure, she was smart, Leigh-Leigh had told him she was always at the top of her class and her reading and math scores were way above grade-level, but still, something felt off that Faith would ask about moving in with him.
Or maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was doing and Faith’s question was totally innocent and normal.
The only thing he was sure of was, he wanted them all living together in a house with a puppy running around causing havoc. He wanted more mornings with Faith and the chaos she created when she was getting ready for school. He wanted Leigh-Leigh in the kitchen grumpy, waiting for the coffee to brew. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up next to his woman. He wanted his girl down the hall in her room. He wanted more dates with Faith and nights alone with Leigh-Leigh.
He wanted the dream.
27
Thank God for Saturdays. I wanted nothing more than to stay in my pjs and laze around all day long. That, and I needed to talk to Holden. Last night, after they got back, Faith was wired. She rambled on about seeing Zack, who incidentally she had a crush on, something that Holden had cottoned on to halfway through Faith’s retelling, which led to him frowning until deep lines formed around his lips. Somehow, the fierce look only made him sexier.
But after that, Holden became watchful and contemplative. I didn’t get a chance to last night, but I needed to get a read on his mood-change, stat. I wasn’t worried about him running off—at least that was what I was telling myself, but my gut was telling me something was wrong. It was the way he’d studied Faith, it
