Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Misty

I stood as tall as my 5-foot frame would allow, glaring into his assessing eyes as Cricket walked up beside me from behind. She hadn’t listened. Cricket settled into my side, and I pulled her close. 

“You didn’t do as I told you,” I accused her, keeping my eyes on him. His wide chest and muscular build were far larger than the bears in the sleuth that Cricket’s sperm donor was in.

My gaze went wearily back to Beck.

“I heard auntie’s name, and I wanted to know what he had to say,” she said, shrugging unapologetically. My daughter was strong-willed. She got that from me. She had noted Adelaide’s absence. How could she not? She was worried for her adopted Auntie. I couldn’t blame her; she probably made it all the way up to the next floor and doubled back. I sighed.

“He doesn’t know anymore than what I already told you. We will hear from her when she settles in.” I let her know. The last thing Ad’s would want Cricket to see was her bruised and battered face on video chat. My heart squeezed thinking of the woman who had seen me through so much, alone after everything she had been through. My gaze went back to Beck. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t let myself trust this man. 

“Go get your stuff ready for school tomorrow,” I said sternly, still holding Beck's silver eyes. He and I had things to talk about but not till Cricket was fast asleep.

“But mom! He’s—”

“I know, now do as you are told for once, Chica!” I snapped. Cricket huffed but walked around me, pointedly between Beck and me as his and my eyes never left each other. His eyes didn’t follow hers. That was one point to him in the disarray of who could trust whom. I knew secrets about people I never breathed a word about, not even to the woman who saved me. I should have listened to Adelaide and got a gun months ago. I had settled on a taser. A lot of good that did me sitting in my bag on my dresser right now. I sighed, stepping back and retreating into the kitchen where I prodded at a massive pot of Al pastor that had been simmering on the stove. Might as well be constructive while we waited, our real conversation would have to wait until Cricket was asleep. That is if this man cared to stick around for that.

Beck turned to survey the broken door.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow,” he promised.

I just shrugged. “Valentina is going to flip her lid,” I said, shaking my head. How was I going to explain myself out of this?

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry about it, once your daughter is off to school safely. I'll take care of it. Leave Mrs. Gonzalez to me,” he said, giving me a smirk. I’d let him try his luck with that. Valentina was a loving woman with a big heart, but she was a hard one in the same breath. I took my tongs and began shredding the Al pastor as he walked up to the counter, staying thankfully across from me. I liked my boundaries.

“That's a lot of food for just the two of you,” he observed.

“It's not for us, it's for the shop in the morning. Valentina makes the tortillas and I make the meat. We prep the sides and eggs in the morning.” 

He swallowed. “Sounds delicious,” he said.

“Well, get in line early, they go quick,” I said with a shrug. Valentina had lined her menu up perfectly. Monday morning meant people needed double the protein to get through the day. What I was working on was just one part of the many layers that kept the customers coming back. I did the meats in several slow cookers and dutch ovens, while Valentina nursed the refried beans from scratch and made the labor-intensive tortillas. It was the least I could do. I got cheap rent and a job that gave me the flexibility to take Cricket to the bus stop every morning, and be done working by the time she returned. It also gave me the ability to hone my side gig. The one we didn’t tell Cricket about.

“Mom! I can’t find my hoodie!” 

Of course, she couldn’t; it was in the new basket of laundry folded at the foot of her bed. I rounded the counter and brushed past Beck, keeping one weary eye on him in my peripheral.

Cricket was digging around in her drawers, already in her Stitch pajamas when I walked in and grabbed her hoodie off the top of the basket. She looked up. “Get your stuff together, you're sleeping in my room tonight,” I let her know. Part of me just felt defeated. Without Adelaide as a buffer, they would become bolder. Keeping her near me was for my own superficial need to know she was safe.

“But, Mom, you snore!” she argued. I huffed. I suppose it was my own karma for being the willful child I was as a kid. As a parent, I now realized a lot of what my parents went through raising me. I wasn’t the easy kid; the misunderstood middle child that questioned every demand meant to keep me safe and their mind at ease. 

“And you kick the shit out of me and steal the covers. Now get your stuff and do as I ask for once,” I insisted, my tone leaving no room for argument. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her clothes for tomorrow and the hoodie out of my hand and headed across the hall to my room.

“Brush your teeth!” I hollered at her before I walked out to the man who had magically been in the right place at the right time and saved us both. I was thankful for that; however, life had turned me into a cynical being, always looking for a reason to mistrust any helping hand. What was I going to do with the man that Adelaide had dropped in my lap? Who was he? Why had he chosen to save her? What did he want from me, and what was he going to do now that he knew what my little girl was? I suppose, for what he did for the one friend who had really seen me all those years ago and took matters into her own hands to protect us at all costs, not even knowing the repercussions of her actions when she barely knew me then, he deserved a chance at least. However, I wasn’t the person I was back then. After Cricket’s father, my trust was hard to gain and easy to lose. I paused and sighed before stepping out of the hallway to face him. I really took him in this time. He was older. Dark hair streaked with white and grey, a wind-weathered face with a stark scar across his face, and those grey eyes that studied me with apprehension and curiosity all at once. He looked like a man who lived a hard life, a man whose silver eyes had seen so much, and I found I wanted to know about it. I stopped myself from being stuck on those eyes that called me to get lost in and spill all my secrets. This man was built like a tree, not just anyone, but one with gnarled roots and a trunk so thick it would call any woman to climb him and see what he had to offer. Mind out of the gutter, Misty, that's not why he is here. It had been so long since I’d gotten laid that it didn’t take much to trigger the urge. Not to mention, he was at least 10 years older than me, his weathered features making it hard for me to gauge.