“Things weren’t good at home,” I whispered and Mitch’s jaw went hard.

More pounding on the door then Aunt Lulamae, “Get your fat ass outta bed and open this door!”

“Stop shouting!” Derek shouted.

“The kids?” Mitch asked.

I shook my head. “Bill hates them just as much as me. The kids have never met either one of them.”

“Marabelle!” Mom shrieked.

“Get outta sight,” Mitch ordered and I blinked up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“Right, I’m callin’ the cops,” Derek stated.

“Go right ahead! I hope you do. You live next to a fuckin’ kidnapper!” Aunt Lulamae shouted.

“Mara, now,” Mitch clipped urgently, “outta sight.”

“I don’t –”

His hand came up to cup my cheek. “Now, baby.”

I nodded. Then I raced to the end of the hall where the door to the kids’ room was. I pressed against the side wall, prayed they slept deep and didn’t wake to hear this.

I knew this was wussy behavior but I didn’t care. There were reasons I left Iowa and both of them were standing at my door. Mitch was a big guy and he was a cop. I didn’t want him to be confronted with what he’d be confronted with but in that moment of sheer panic, all I could think was that it was better him than me. He could walk away from it. It was in my blood. It lived latent in me and I didn’t need that part of me waking up.

Therefore, I watched Mitch open the door just enough so he could stand in its frame but not enough for them to see me.

Then I heard my Mom say, “Well fina…who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Detective Mitch Lawson,” Mitch replied.

Silence then, Aunt Lulamae, “I thought Mara lived here.”

“Mara does live here,” Mitch stated very unwisely then, equally unwisely, he went on to lie. “We’re seein’ each other.”

“Mara’s seein’ a cop?” Mom asked, voice filled with shock, disbelief and revulsion like he’d said I was seeing a serial rapist.

“Yeah, she is and she’s explained you’re estranged so I think maybe it’s best that you go,” Mitch explained.

“Estranged! Right. That’s good. Fuckin’ hilarious. Marabelle Jolene ‘My Shit Don’t Stink’ Hanover is estranged from her Momma. I’m laughin’ my ass off,” Mom stated.

Why this would be, I couldn’t fathom since we very much were. Not seeing or speaking to someone in over a decade had to be the definition of estranged. Except, of course, my Mom probably didn’t know what that word meant.

“Like I said, I think it’s best that you go,” Mitch repeated.

“You give me my grandbabies, I’ll go,” Aunt Lulamae entered the conversation.

There it was. The reason they were here. Just what I feared. Shit!

“Mara has temporary guardianship of your grandchildren so I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Mitch replied.

“Temporary guardianship, my ass. They need to be with their grandma, not some uppity bitch. You let me in and let me get my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae returned.

“I advise you not to force entry or I’ll need to call units to the scene,” Mitch warned, shifting to cop speak and I knew they were trying to push in.

Damn.

“You can’t keep me from my grandbabies!” Aunt Lulamae shrieked.

“I know your grandchildren pretty well, ma’am, they’ve not once mentioned you,” Mitch replied in a calm voice on a semi-lie then went on to flat out lie. “Their teachers and principal have not mentioned you.” Then he started to tell the truth. “The emergency contact on their school records is Mara. Bill Winchell is currently incarcerated. He was not offered bail because he’s a flight risk. He can’t afford representation and the evidence they have is substantial. Regardless, he’s not fit to raise those children and the evidence to support that is even more substantial. Mara’s temporary guardianship will likely be full guardianship soon and you don’t factor into that equation. I suggest if you’d like to see your grandchildren, you phone Mara at a decent time and arrange to have a meeting where you talk civilly about your wishes and she can decide when and how you’ll see your grandchildren. Now, if you wish to see them and not give Mara ammunition to keep you from them I suggest you quiet down, go to your car, leave the premises and phone Mara to set a time to talk about this amicably.”

“Well, officer, considerin’ I didn’t understand half of them fancy-ass words that came outta your cop mouth, you can go spit for me quietin’ down and leavin’ the premises before I see my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae shot back and I closed my eyes.

“Why do cops talk like that?” Mom asked Aunt Lulamae.

“Search me,” Aunt Lulamae responded.

God. It was like Idiot Skank and her sidekick, Skanky Moron do Denver.

“Dispatch?” Mitch said, my eyes shot to him to see he had a phone at his ear and then Mitch continued. “Yeah, this is Detective Lawson. I need a couple units at the Evergreen. Unit C. Upper floor. There’s a disturbance.”

“You did not just call the cops!” Aunt Lulamae screeched.

“Fuckin’ shit!” Mom shouted. “Just let her see her grandbabies! How hard is that?”

“Yeah? Thanks. Later,” Mitch said then he flipped his phone closed and stated, “You shout one more time, pound on the door, wake those kids or Mara’s neighbors, I’ll cuff you both, haul you down to the sidewalk myself and get creative with what to charge you with. And what I pick won’t be somethin’ easy like disturbin’ the peace. Don’t try me, I’m not joking. I’m being very serious.”

This was met with silence and I suspected this was because Mitch was looking as serious as he sounded and he sounded very serious. Mom and Aunt Lulamae weren’t the brightest bulbs in the box but they also weren’t strangers to a jail cell and as often as they’d tried it, they’d never liked it.

Then Mitch said, “I think we’re done here.” A pause then another lie, “Ladies.” And Mitch closed the door.

Then, somewhat muted, “You did not just shut the door in my face!”

That was Aunt Lulamae.

“Pig!”

That was Mom.

I watched Mitch move toward me. When there was silence outside, I turned to the kids’ door and cautiously opened it, peeking in.

Billie was sprawled, covers half on, half off, Mitch’s pink teddy bear firm in hand, dead to the world. Billy was on his side curled into a tight ball, hands shoved under the pillow. Both were asleep.

Thank you, God.

I moved back, closed the door carefully and turned to see Mitch close.

“All good?” he whispered and I nodded.

Then I moved quickly down the hall to the front door and checked the peephole. I couldn’t see anything so I put my ear to the door and I couldn’t hear anything.

Then I moved to the wall beside the door and banged my head on it. This I did repeatedly. This was what I was doing when Mitch made it to me.

His hand wrapped around my upper arm and his mouth muttered, “Sweetheart,” as he pulled me away from the wall.

My eyes went to him.

“Case in point,” I declared.

He pressed his lips together, looking amused and knowing exactly what I was referring to. My eyes narrowed on his mouth then shot to his.

“Do you want to have that discussion again about there not being different kinds of people out there in the real world?” I asked.

“Mara,” he whispered.

“You want to call your Mom here?” I asked. “Stand her beside my Mom? Do a comparison?”

He used my arm to guide my body toward his and when he got my body close enough both his arms closed around me.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We can have that discussion because you’re still wrong. But I’d rather take this opportunity to point out that you’re also wrong about bein’ able to take all this on your own. Now I know I’m right more than I was before and before I was already right,” Mitch stated. His hands had started traveling up and down my back in a soothing way which, even though I was strung out emotionally, I had to admit felt really good.

“I am right. You live in a totally different zone than me,” I asserted.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, lips twitching, for some reason finding this funny which it was not.

“Your mother probably wears twinsets,” I told him.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Mitch told me.

“Pretty matching sweaters and cardigans,” I explained.

“And?” Mitch asked which proved I was right about the twinsets.

“She also probably adds scarves,” I added for good measure.

“And?” Mitch repeated.

Yep, she also wore scarves.

“I’m sure she picks very pretty scarves that accessorize her twinsets perfectly.”

“Mara,” he said on a rumble that communicated he was close to laughing.

“Was my mother baring cleavage?”

That did it. All humor fled and I watched him wince. It was a strong one which meant he’d seen this and it was now an ugly memory burned on his brain instead of him not seeing it and it was simply an ugly concept.

“She was baring cleavage,” I muttered to his shoulder, mortified because it was likely she was baring lots of it and it was also likely Aunt Lulamae was too.

“Mara,” Mitch called and my eyes slid to him.

“Even if we tried, we’d never work,” I whispered and his hands stopped soothingly traveling my back, one clamped around my waist, the other one slid up my neck into my hair.

“Shut up,” he whispered back.

“You live in a different zone than me,” I shared again and watched his head descend. “The upper zone. I’m the lower zone. Never the twain shall meet.”

I said my last against his lips which had found their way to mine.

“Shut up,” he repeated, his lips moving against mine.

“Mitch –”

“All right, baby, I’ll shut you up.”

Then he did, his head slanting and his lips taking mine in a repeat performance of the open-mouthed, knock my socks off, rock my world, best kiss in the history of all time.

I was holding him to me and pressed tight to him when his lips released mine. My hand was in his hair. He had really, freaking great hair.

“You have great hair,” I breathed against his mouth.

Mitch smiled against mine.

Then he kissed me again and it was so fantastic, when his mouth broke from mine I couldn’t hold my head up anymore. I had to bend my neck and rest my forehead against his shoulder while I fought to steady my breathing.

“Shit, but you can fuckin’ kiss,” he whispered in my ear.

He was wrong; he did all the good stuff. I was just an avid participant in the festivities.

This was not a favorable turn of events that was conducive to peace of mind. Mitch being the best kisser in history on top of all the other fabulous things that were Mitch, his being my neighbor and his asserting he was “into me” all equated to the exact opposite of peace of mind.

“What are you still doin’ here?”

Mitch’s torso twisted, I looked around his body and we both saw Billy standing in his pajamas at the mouth of the hall. His face was slightly sleepy and slightly ticked.

Great. Caught in Mitch’s arms by Billy who apparently was playing possum five minutes ago.

I pulled from Mitch’s arms and walked toward my cousin, saying, “Billy –”

His angry eyes went from Mitch to me and he asked, “Who was that shoutin’?”

I stopped and did a knees-closed squat in front of him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” I said softly. “Now you need to do me a favor, go back to bed and get some sleep.”

“Why’s he still here?” Billy asked, ignoring my request and jerking his head to Mitch.

“He –”

Billy cut me off, “He’s around then he’s gone, then he’s around again and touchin’ you. Tomorrow will he be gone again?”

“He’s spending the day with you tomorrow, honey, you know that.”

“What about the next day?” Billy asked.

“I –”

Billy’s eyes tilted up to Mitch and he informed him, “We’re okay without you. I can watch Billie when Auntie Mara has to work. I did it all the time at home.”

I reached out, curved my hand around his jaw and brought his eyes to me. “All right, buddy,” I said gently. “First, you’re not okay to be on your own with Billy. You’re a smart kid and you take good care of your sister but your Dad leaving you alone was not the right thing to do.” Billy started glaring at me; I dropped my hand and went on, “Second, I told you now twice that Mitch is being cool, he’s helping out and he is. You don’t get into the faces of people who help you out.” I scooted closer to him and my voice got softer. “And that was my Mom and your Grandma at the door.” His glare got intense upon hearing this news and I continued, “We’ll talk about that later but your Dad and me, we’re not real close with them and now that they’re here for whatever reason they’re here, I’ve got to figure out what to do about that. But I need time to do it when I’m not exhausted from work and it isn’t nearly eleven at night. I’m lucky Mitch was here to take care of that and I’m grateful that he did.”