He didn’t seem to hear her. “But I always made an effort to stay away from kids. Because what if I fucked up again? What if I turned away for even a second and then…then…” He swallowed. “I didn’t want to like your kids. I didn’t want to love them. Because the last kid I loved died. He fucking died, Miranda, and I’m the reason.”
“You were eleven years old,” she burst out, unable to control the fierce wave of protectiveness that swept through her. She gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. “You were a kid yourself and you shouldn’t have been alone with Adam in the first place! Isn’t twelve years old the legal age to leave a child home alone in Nevada? I’m not assigning blame here—because sometimes fucked-up, horrible things happen and it’s nobody’s fault—but if anyone is to blame? It’s Missy. She should have known better than to leave two young boys to fend for themselves!”
Seth looked slightly stunned. “She…was working. To support us. And…”
“And nothing. Adam’s death is not on your head, Seth. It’s not on your mom’s head. It’s on Jarvis Henderson. He’s the monster who…who…” She couldn’t even finish, she was crying too hard.
Next thing she knew, Seth’s strong arms came around her and he pulled her into his chest. Miranda couldn’t control the big gulping sobs that slipped out. She cried for Seth and Missy and Adam, for the pain and suffering each of them must have experienced, for all those years Seth had closed his heart off because he was terrified of losing someone else he loved.
When her tears finally subsided, Seth was watching her with a sad expression.
Miranda sniffled and wiped her eyes. “What?”
“Let’s just get it over with,” he said grimly.
“Get what over with?”
“The good-bye.”
She nearly fell off his lap. “What are you talking about?”
“I yelled at your son, Miranda. I made him cry.”
She couldn’t deny that the thought of someone reducing her son to tears unleashed her maternal claws, but she forced herself to retract the mom talons and look at the situation through a different lens. Her gaze shifted to the article on the table, focusing on the smiling boy in the baseball uniform. Then she imagined Jason bounding up to Seth in such a similar outfit, and she couldn’t help but empathize with Seth, couldn’t help but understand where his irrational response had stemmed from.
“Did you apologize to Jason?” she asked.
He nodded. “We worked everything out. All three of us.”
Remembering the adorable scene she’d come home to, Miranda had to smile. “I noticed.”
“The rugrats and I are good, Miranda. I think…” Seth looked a touch amazed, “…I think we might actually be friends now. But I understand if you don’t want me to be around them again.”
She eyed him sternly. “Do you plan on yelling at either of my children again?”
“Never,” he swore.
“Will you ever make them cry?”
“Never. Well, unless I’m ripping a Band-Aid off real fast or something, but you can’t hold tears like that against me.”
Her heart squeezed. “I think the most important question I should ask is, now that you’ve spent some time with them, do you want them in your life?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“Then there’s no reason to say good-bye, now is there?”
Hope flickered in his eyes. “You mean that?”
“I mean it.” A smile tickled her lips. “So here’s another question for you—Seth Masterson, will you be my boyfriend?”
Chapter Eighteen
July
The month of July flew by so fast Miranda wondered if maybe she’d blacked out for a portion of it. Somehow, it was now the night before the summer recital, and of course, disaster had to strike the second she’d patted herself on the back in the belief that everything would go smoothly tomorrow.
“What do you mean you ripped your costume?” she demanded, unable to comprehend why her daughter sounded so calm. Normally, Sophie would be freaking out. “How bad is it?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Miranda had left the twins at the apartment with Seth while she’d driven back to the school to meet with the other instructors and finalize the details for tomorrow night’s big event. Now she was heading home, where a torn costume apparently awaited her.
“It’s very bad,” Sophie finally said in that frank tone of hers.
“It’s not bad at all,” Seth’s muffled voice called.
Miranda released an annoyed breath. “Wait—is it bad or not? Put Seth on the phone.”
He came on the line a second later. “Don’t worry, babe, it’s just a minor tear and some sequins popped off. I’m handling it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re handling it?” The unmistakable whir of her sewing machine filled the extension. “Are you sewing Sophie’s costume?”
“Duh. How the fu—how else do you expect me to patch it up? Using duct tape?”
“You’re sewing,” she repeated, dumbfounded.
“Miranda, I grew up in a Las Vegas dressing room. I know my way around sewing machines. And a needle and thread—I’ll definitely have to stitch those sequins back on by hand. I’m hanging up the phone now. You’re distracting me, babe.”
A click sounded in her ear.