Page 132 of Buckin' Around

“You could have simply complied. Not made an enormous sordid deal out of this,” she hisses.

“And you could not be a predator. I guess we all have our limitations. Have the day you deserve.”

I step around her and make a beeline across the road to where my truck is parked. Oh yeah, she is going down. Her and her filthy rich pack of vultures that force young people into doing whatever the hell they want them to.

But to do that, I’m going to have to speak to the one person I didn’t want to ever ask a favor from again.

My mother.

Riles is swaying at the kitchen counter. Her headphones are blaring something so loud I’m sure she has no idea how loud her singing is, but I’ll enjoy the moment while I still have it. She leaves in three weeks. Twenty-one days of the three of us, until it’s just me and Ives.

My gut roils with the thought.

I have been pushing back any thoughts of that nature for the last few weeks. I’m afraid if I let them in, I’ll cease to function as a human being. As a father. Ivy, currently furniture surfing her way along any upright surface she can find, deserves me to be both. She reaches from the sofa to the coffee table, not letting go until she has a firm grip on the table.

It seems like she’s so close to walking... She’s incredible.

So, it doesn’t matter if my heart is breaking apart in real time. I have Ives to think about.

It’s only now that I realize how different my life is to twelve months ago. How different my outlook is. I’m a far cry from the free, fun-loving player who had a different woman in the back of my truck at every event. The man who patched over his lack of loving relationships with one-night stands and instant gratification.

I think it was a self-defense mechanism. One I let down, and now in twenty-one days, havoc will wreak over this damaged heart of mine. In the form of the best thing that ever happened to me walking away.

And so she should.

She has a life. A good one, that she worked so damn hard for. I want her to have everything she wants. I won’t be responsible for taking that away from Riles. I hang my head, letting it fall into my hands as I sink onto the sofa.

Riley’s singing changes to something more upbeat, and I force myself from the melancholy mood that threatens to drag me down.

I refuse to waste the last three weeks of our time together feeling sorry for myself. Ivy and I are going to make the next few weeks amazing for Riles.

Right.

I stand and freeze.

Ivy looks up at me, babbling as her grip on the coffee table slips away.

“Riles!” I stage-whisper.

There is no way she’s going to hear me over that racket in her ears.

“Wait, baby. Wait for Riles, okay?” I hold a hand up and dash for the kitchen. I scoop Riley up into my arms.

She squeals, arms flailing as her dark eyes widen and snap to mine.

She’s grappling with the headphones, shoving them from her head and around her neck as I say, “Ivy... look.”

We’re closing in on Ivy as I lower Riley to her feet.

I get the utter privilege of watching the woman I love light up like fucking Christmas when she realizes what our baby girl is about to do.

“Oh, Ives,” Riles says softly, dropping to her knees and holding out her hands. “You can do it, clever girl. Come on.”

I stand behind, bending down to plant a kiss in her hair and beam at my baby about to take her first steps. If I could turn time to stone and preserve one moment, it would be this one.

Plus maybe that night in the motel eight weeks ago, when?—

Ivy lifts her foot, stepping out.