“You do bad things, doesn’t matter if you’re a kid or a grown up, you get punished. Your Dad has done bad and he’s gettin’ punished.”

“Mitch,” I repeated, this time in a little above a whisper and my hand automatically went to his abs to give him a warning “shut up!” press which, by the way, he totally ignored.

“So he’s in jail because he does drugs?” Billy asked in a tone that sounded vaguely curious and not much else.

“That and other stuff that isn’t too good,” Mitch answered. “And you both should know, it’s likely he’ll be there awhile.”

Oh my God! What was he doing?

I watched tears fill Billie’s eyes and therefore snapped, “Mitch!”

Mitch looked down at me and stated, “They should know.”

“We need to discuss this elsewhere,” I informed him.

“No you don’t, Auntie Mara,” Billy put in and I looked at him. “Mitch’s right. We should know.”

My eyes moved to Billie and I opened my mouth to speak. Then I saw the tears that were threatening were now trailing down her cheeks so I closed my mouth but Mitch moved. He let me go, plucked Billy off the counter and attached the six year old girl to his hip with one arm like she was a toddler and weighed no more than a large doll.

Then he tucked her hair behind her ear and dipped his face close to hers before he said gently, “I know that makes you sad, gorgeous. It makes you sad because it is sad. But maybe your Daddy will take this time to sort himself out so, if he gets out, he can take better care of you because the bottom line is you deserve someone who’ll take good care of you.”

Billie looked into Mitch’s eyes and the tears kept falling.

At the same time, Billy muttered, “Yeah, like that’ll happen.”

I put my hand on my cousin’s knee to give a warning squeeze and Billie hiccupped as her tears flowed faster.

“Bud, I get you’re ticked and I get why and you’ve got a right to be ticked but you’re not helping,” Mitch said softly and Billy pressed his lips together. Mitch went back to Billie. “But right now, honey, you’re in a good place. You’re where you need to be with people who care about you and you can help Mara, me and your Daddy by telling us about the bad man that scared you last night.”

“What bad man that scared her last night?” Billy asked and I looked at him.

“Billie had a rough night, buddy,” I explained. “She woke up scared and she told Mitch and me she’s worried about a bad man hurting you, your Dad and her.”

“She should be, seein’ as we can’t go to your place because Dad’s a dick,” Billy returned stating, as usual with Billy, that he knew exactly what was going on.

I started to call Billy on his language and again Mitch got there before me.

“Bud, mouth,” he said on a gentle growl and Billy glared at him mutinously for a second before he looked down at the floor. Mitch then turned his attention back to Billie who now had her head resting on his shoulder and her fist pressed against her lips.

“You okay, baby?” I asked Billie.

“No,” she muttered against her fist.

Before I could say more, Billy spoke again. “How can we help you and Auntie Mara?”

Mitch lifted a hand to start stroking Billie’s hair but his eyes went to Billy.

“You know the bad man your sister’s talkin’ about?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Billy answered.

“You see him?” Mitch went on.

“Yeah, all the time,” Billy replied.

“Could you describe him?” Mitch asked.

Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure how I felt about where this was heading.

“Sure,” Billy responded.

“Pick him out in a picture?” Mitch continued.

Uh-oh!

“Yeah, you got one of him,” Billy stated.

“Good, then when I pick you up from school today, you both will come with me to the Station, talk to some of my friends, look at some pictures. You find him then we’ll know who’s scarin’ your sister and we might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

I stood there, my blood pressure accelerating and I didn’t know how to feel about this. Who was guardian to these kids anyway, Mitch or me? I didn’t like the honest way he went about telling them all of this. Though they had to be told, I would have liked to have a discussion about what we intended to do about it. What I didn’t like was Mitch charging in, giving the kids bad news, making Billie cry and then deciding the kids were going to the Station with him without conferring with me.

I was about to suggest we retire to the breezeway and I didn’t care if Brent, Bradon, Derek and LaTanya saw us out there in our sleepwear while I gave Mitch what for when the day’s plans were sealed without me able to utter a word.

“The Station?” Billy breathed, his tone not mildly curious or angry and hard but awe-struck. Clearly a visit to a police station was a treat for a nine year old boy.

At the same time Billie whispered, “Po-lice station?” Then, her little girl brain catapulted her out of unhappy, criminal, drug-addled Dad in jail world into another world entirely. Her torso shot straight in Mitch’s arms, her fists went up into the air and she cried, “Yippee! I can’t wait to tell my friends at school I get to go to the po-lice station!”

And equally clearly, a visit to a police station was a treat for a six year old girl.

I clenched my teeth at the same time I put my hands on my hips.

Then I asked Mitch in a tone that could not be mistaken, “Is the kids’ oatmeal done?”

Mitch and Billy’s eyes came to me, both of them not mistaking my tone.

Billie’s eyes went to her brother who she informed, “Guess what, Billy? Mitch is activaking our brain with oatmeal so we can be super smart!”

“Cool,” Billy muttered quietly, treading cautiously as I continued to glare at Mitch.

“Yeah, it’s done,” Mitch answered me, his eyes alert and amused at the same time.

“Excellent,” I decreed, stepped back and turned to Billy. “Jump down, buddy, and take a stool.” My eyes went to Mitch and I ordered, “Put Billie on a stool. She needs to eat so I can get her in the shower. Then we’re chatting in the breezeway.”

Mitch stared at me a brief second then started to round the counter to put Billie on a stool, saying, “Baby, maybe you haven’t got this so I’ll say it straight. We gotta talk, we’ll talk but we’re never doin’ it in the breezeway.”

“Fine,” I snapped, yanking open the microwave door to find steaming bowls of oatmeal in there. I pulled them out and continued, “Your bedroom.”

“Now that definitely works for me,” Mitch muttered.

I slashed him a look as I dropped the bowls in front of the kids who were both now at stools. I yanked a couple of drawers open until I found spoons and when I did, I grabbed two and dumped them into the kids’ bowls.

Then I stomped around the counter, through the living area and right to his room. I stood with my hand on the door until he cleared it then pushed it to. I turned around, my mouth opening to give him what for and then closing when I suddenly found myself in his arms, my body plastered to his bare-chested one.

On a normal day, this would have made me paralytic. At that present moment, it made me apoplectic.

I put my hands to his shoulders and pressed, hissing, “Let me go.”

Mitch ignored my hands except to lean into them as he observed, “You’re pissed.”

“Uh…yeah,” I snapped. “Your one-man show in there, um…” I shook my head, got up on my toes to get closer to his face and finished, “No.”

“Sweetheart, they gotta know and they gotta help us out if we’re gonna stop whatever the fuck is happening,” Mitch explained.

“Maybe so, but I’m their guardian and you are helping out and therefore we make decisions about how we communicate with them and what they’ll be doing to help us out before we communicate with them and tell them what they’ll be doing to help us out,” I retorted.

“We don’t have time to chat or wait for you to consider what’s the best way forward, Mara. In the immediate, we got two kids to get to school. I gotta talk to the people at the school then get to work, you gotta get to work and we got a bad guy who ripped your place to shit. That’s just the immediate. I don’t have to remind you of all the other shit swirlin’ around you and those kids.”

“No, you don’t,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t talk before decisions are made.”

“Baby,” he said with what sounded like somewhat annoyed patience, “I just said, we don’t have time.”

I lifted up further on my toes, my face an inch from his and returned, “Honey lumpkin, when it comes to what we do with those kids, we make time.” Then I ignored one side of his mouth hitching up at my sarcastic endearment and drove my point home by accusing, “You made Billie cry.”

“She loves her Dad. There was no way to avoid makin’ her cry and I get that you get that since you’ve had them a week and neither of them knew their father was in jail. It had to be said no matter how old they are and there is no way to sugarcoat the fact that someone’s drug addicted, drug dealing, thieving father is facing some serious jail time.”

Damn, I hated it when he was right.

“Okay, so, you’re right,” I allowed and this got an arm squeeze and a lip twitch then I went on. “But, you’re also wrong. I’m not a bystander in this situation. The fact that they’re told and how they were told should have been discussed and understood between us before they were told so we could be prepared to deal with any fallout. Or, I should say in this instance, I could be prepared for any fallout. We can’t do this if you make these decisions on your own and leave me blowing in the wind. We can only do this if we do this as a team so we’re both prepared to offer the best support we can because, knowing Bill, my mother and Aunt Lulamae, this is only the beginning. Do you get me?”

I wasn’t paying attention and therefore his hand had drifted up my back, neck and into my hair to cup the back of my head before I clocked its movement. I also didn’t notice the change that had come over him while his eyes held mine; a change that I sensed was significant, so significant it was downright important but even so, I couldn’t put a finger on it.

He took my mind off all of this when he replied quietly, “I get you.”

“Good,” I clipped. “And another thing, when we chat we don’t do it with you holding me.” I pressed at his shoulders again. “Now, let me go.”

“Oh no, honey, no way in hell I’m gonna let you be pissed at me, wearin’ that cute nightie, your hair down and not chat with you anywhere but in my arms.”

Um…what?

“What?” I asked.

“You heard me,” he answered.

“I’m not wearing a nightie,” I reminded him. “I’m wearing a nightie and a shirt.”

“You could cover up that nightie with a snowsuit, sweetheart, but you in my living room wearin’ nothin’ but that nightie is burned on my brain in a way that I like a fuckuva lot. So all I’m gonna see is you in that fuckin’ nightie no matter what you put on over it.”

“That’s insane,” I snapped.

“You’re not a guy,” he replied.

“Okay, now that’s insane,” I returned.

“Maybe you don’t get just how cute that nightie is,” Mitch retorted.

Oh boy.

“Mitch –”

“Or just how good it fits you,” Mitch kept going.

Oh God.

“Mitch –”

“Or how fuckin’ great you look with your hair down.”

“Mitch!”

“Or how I gotta fight against goin’ hard whenever you slip outta your cocoon when you get pissed or you forget to stay shielded and that Mara Light shines out.”

That shut me up and it made my fingers curl into his shoulders as I stared, shocked, into his fathomless eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his arm around my waist going tight. “Now, finally, I’m seein’ you get me.”

“I think we’re done talking now,” I whispered and we were. We were definitely done talking.

Of course, the truth of the matter was, I was done talking. Mitch was not and I knew this when his arm got tighter just as his hand at my scalp pulled me so close to his face I felt his breath on my lips.

“Since I have your attention, baby, and I see you beatin’ your retreat, I want you to take this with you when you slide back into that cocoon. Straight up, Mara, I want you in my bed. And when you’re in my bed, I’m gonna be in you. And while I’m movin’ inside you, I’m gonna make you come with your long, fuckin’ legs wrapped around my back, when my hands are finally on that fantastic fuckin’ ass of yours, your tongue’s in my mouth and you’re kissin’ me as only you can kiss me. I know you got a way of twistin’ shit so it’s fucked up in your brain so I’m hopin’ if I’m direct about just what I want from you, it might penetrate and you might keep it straight long enough to give us both what we’ve been wantin’ for a long, fuckin’ time.”