Rick slid his hand from the phone. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Lauren? Everything okay?” he asked again, totally unsettled by the quiver in her voice.
“Sure, why do you ask?”
“You don’t sound so good, kiddo.”
“I’m just wondering where you are.”
How strange that she would ask. She never asked, trained from the cradle to know that her military father often couldn’t say where he’d gone. He hadn’t even told his ex about his medical retirement from the service, only that he’d been injured, not how seriously.
“I’m in Charleston, South Carolina.” There couldn’t be any harm in telling her that much.
She would assume he was TDY to the base there, perhaps on his way out to another assignment. He would explain more soon.
“Oh, well, I’d like to write to you, if you don’t mind. Could I have an address?”
“We have e-mail.”
“Sure, but I’ve got some things from school and all I want to share. Please, Daddy?”
There couldn’t be any harm in giving her a snail mail address. It seemed petty to hold back. He’d given his kid so little. “Sure, kiddo. I’m staying with a friend. But I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
“At least for a week, though, right?”
“At least a week, and I’ll leave a forwarding address.”
Where would he go after that? His mind actually wandered down paths of what-if he hung around here. Lauren would enjoy coming to Charleston. Teens were lured by beaches, right?
Had it been over a year since he’d seen her? What a crummy excuse for a father. He’d gone that long before because of deployments and he’d worked his ass off to make it up to her when he’d returned.
He would do the same soon when he was steadily on his two feet again and had an equally steady vision for his future. She deserved a real father.
There had to be a reason she called. Holidays? He didn’t think so since he always did come through with the holiday calls. “Is there a particular reason for this conversation? Is something wrong?”
Her deep breath rattled through the airwaves, building until the words seemed to roll free from her. “Daddy, Mom’s getting married again to this total dweeb. I can’t stand living with them anymore. It’s going to make me freaking insane if I have to listen to him call Mom ‘sugar pie’ one more time. Please, I want to come live with you.”
Sugar pie? Lindsay had obviously found the tenderness she’d always claimed Rick lacked. He was glad for her. That part of the conversation didn’t bother him—beyond reminding him what crap material he was in the relationship department.
He needed to focus on the important fact here. Lauren wanted to live with him. Now.
And just that fast, the few props he’d managed to rebuild cracked in two. He heard her request and all the pain in Lauren’s voice as loud and clear as when she’d fallen off her bike at seven.
Sure he wanted to be the kind of parent his kid could count on to tend to those wounds life inflicted on a regular basis. But he knew straight up, he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be the father his daughter needed.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Nola whispered softly, guessing Rick was awake, too, but keeping her voice low in case she was wrong.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Rick answered, a large shadow in the moonlit double bed across the garage apartment. He sprawled on his back, hands under his head, chest stretching his brown military T-shirt.
“Everything okay with you?” Nola asked from the sofa bed. She tucked her Laura Ashley comforter up under her chin. She might be on a pullout sofa bed, but that didn’t mean she had to leave her froufrou behind, the pampering that made her feel sensually a woman.
“Yeah. Fine.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled across the room and over her heightened senses deprived of full sight.
“Finished all your prayers?” Prodding him to keep talking might be reckless. She should cocoon herself in her covers and fake sleep until reality took over. A wise woman would. But her usual wisdom rarely came into play around this fellow.
“‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ and the whole bit.”