Tears filled Shannon’s eyes all over again. “Please? Please, can we not tell her right away? If you come back, she won’t be so mad at me.”
She collapsed into sobs against Mitch’s chest again, and he rubbed her back, knowing he should be pissed but having a hard time finding the energy.
“Bring her into the house,” Tate said. “If she gets sick out here in the cold, her mom’s really gonna hate you.”
“Her mom already does.” Mitch hefted Shannon into his arms and followed Tate inside.
A great room with a huge rock fireplace and dark wood accents opened to a kitchen beyond and stairs that led up to the second floor. Mitch sat on the leather couch in the middle of the room and held Shannon while she cried. Tate disappeared somewhere in the kitchen.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, rubbing her back, not knowing what else to do to console her. Julia was never emotional like this. Instead, she just got mad and yelled. Part of him preferred the yelling, but a tiny piece liked that Shannon needed him. God knew, her mother didn’t. “I’ll call your mom and work everything out. She might be a little mad, but she’ll get over it.”
“No, she won’t.” Shannon sniffled. “I’ve messed everything up. First I made you leave, and now this.”
He drew her away from him and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. And I didn’t leave because of you. I left because…” How the hell did he explain this to a ten-year-old? He was still struggling with it himself. “Listen, Shannon. Sometimes things just don’t work out. It’s not anybody’s fault, especially yours. You’re a great kid, and I…” …wanted to be your dad. I still do. He swallowed the emotions closing his throat. “It was wrong of me to leave without telling you. I’m sorry.”
She laid her head on his chest and cried again. And, feeling like shit, Mitch just sat there and held her, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make her—or himself—feel better.
Eventually, Shannon’s sniffling died off, and she grew limp in his arms. It had to be close to three a.m. Realizing she was asleep, he laid her on the couch and pulled a throw over her, then looked down at all her curly red hair fanned out around her and remembered why he’d never wanted to have a family of his own. Because this kind of stuff killed him. The highs he could totally manage, but the lows… He wasn’t strong enough to deal with reality when the bottom fell out beneath him.
The scent of coffee beckoned from the direction of the kitchen, and he headed that way.
Tate—always a night owl—was sitting at the counter, tinkering on his laptop, when Mitch walked into the room. Darkness pressed in from outside, just a twinkle of lights across the water reflecting in the glass. Tate leaned back in his chair. “She finally go to sleep?”
Mitch opened a cupboard and pulled out a mug. “You mean pass out from crying? Yeah. Finally.”
Tate chuckled. “Gotta admit. All those years you spent helping Ryan with Julia, I never saw you as the father figure. Not until tonight.”
Mitch scowled as he poured coffee into his mug. “Don’t get used to it. She’s not my kid, and her mother has made it more than clear she doesn’t want her to be my kid. I am not, and never will be, dad material.”
Tate was silent for a moment. The strong, bitter coffee went down hot, but at least it cleared the last of the cobwebs from Mitch’s brain. He took another sip, wishing it would clear away that lingering ache in his chest too.
“What are you gonna do?” Tate asked quietly.
What he wanted to do was drink himself into oblivion and pass out just like Shannon. What he had to do was call the woman who’d just shit kicked him in the groin and tell her her daughter was over eight hundred miles away. With him.
“Consider moving to a deserted island.” He pulled out his cell and cringed when he saw seven missed calls from Simone.
So much for passing out.
He punched in Simone’s number. Then drew a deep breath and steeled himself for what was about to happen next.
Simone answered on the first ring. “Mitch? Is Shannon with you?”
Just the sound of her voice caused his stomach to tighten with a mixture of pain and stupidity. He clenched his jaw. “She’s here. And she’s fine.”
“Oh, thank God. I’ve been going out of my mind. Put her on the phone.”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Well, wake her up. She’s in some serious trouble for this stunt.”
He leaned back against the counter. Across the kitchen, Tate watched with interest. “No.”
“This isn’t funny, Mitch. Put her on the damn phone.”
Simone was good and fired up. The woman rarely swore. But that only fueled Mitch’s own rage. “It’s three o’clock in the freakin’ morning, Simone. She’s tired and upset and already feels like crap, thanks to you. So forgive me for not waking her so you can lay into her and make her feel worse.”
“Wha—?” Shock reverberated through the line. Then, steadier, Simone said, “Where are you? I’ll come get her.”
Bullshit. She wasn’t coming up here and fucking up any more of his life. She’d done enough of that already. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What? No. Just put her on a plane in the morning, and I’ll meet her in San Francisco.”
She didn’t want to see him. Yeah, that made this all the more fun. “And leave her feeling abandoned all over again? I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we’ve both fucked things up for her enough for one week. I’ll call you tomorrow when I know our flight time.”
“Wait, Mitch. Have her call me.”
Now she didn’t even want to talk to him? Oh yeah, this was just so fucking excellent.
“Not if she doesn’t want to. And right now, you’re like the last person on the planet she wants to talk to.”
“Mitch—”
“You know what, Simone?” He rolled right over her, his own emotions melding with Shannon’s, leaving him vibrating with anger. “You’re just gonna have to learn to deal with disappointment. I sure have.”
He clicked End before she could protest and slid the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. A tension headache—or maybe it was a hangover headache—was taking up space right behind his eyeballs. He rubbed two fingers over his brow.
“That sounded like it went well,” Tate said from the table.
“About as well as a car crash on the 101.” Mitch tossed his coffee in the sink and headed for the living room. “I’m tired. If Shannon wakes, make sure she doesn’t escape, would ya? The last thing I need is her mother all over my ass because she got away.”
“At one time, you would have liked that.”
Yeah, he would have. And part of him still did. But as he’d told Simone, disappointment was something he was learning to live with.
“That’s because I’m a sick son of a bitch.” Mitch turned for the stairs. “But like you, Kendrick, thank the stars above, I’ve finally come to my senses.”
“Yeah,” Kendrick muttered from the kitchen in a less than enthusiastic tone, “we’re regular old rocket scientists, aren’t we?”
Simone stared at the phone in her hand in utter disbelief.
He’d hung up on her.
“She’s with Mitch?” Kate asked where she sat next to Simone on the sofa. “Oh, thank God. What did he say?”
“He—” Simone was still too shocked to think. She knew Mitch was pissed at her after the scene at his house, but this was different. He’d all but accused her of being a terrible mother. Which, she couldn’t help but agree, she was. She swallowed hard. “H-he said he’s bringing her back to San Francisco tomorrow.”