She narrows her eyes. “Why would she do that? She has a boyfriend.”
Oh, Bernie, please stay this naïve forever. “She wanted to hurt your mama. I think she thought it would make me come back to her.”
“But it won’t?”
I shake my head. “Never again. And you’re the reason.”
Pointing at her chest, Bernie gapes with her eyebrows high on her forehead. “Me?”
“You asked me why I let her treat me bad, and I didn’t have a good answer. Then your mama showed me what being treated good was like, and I’ll never go back. I’ll spend forever making it up to you and your mama.”
“I don’t know if Mom will let you.”
“I don’t either, kiddo, but I have to try.”
Her fingers tap on her knees. “She won’t believe you if you tell her you love her.”
“I don’t think so, either.”
Tilting her head, Bernie purses her lips as she thinks. “We need a plan.”
“You’re willing to help me?”
“I don’t like Mom crying. She said she was sad for me, but I know she was sad for her. She really liked you. And she doesn’t like a lot of boys. Says they always hurt us.”
Blowing air out, I sit beside her and rest my head on the railing. “I never wanted to hurt your mama. It hurts me so much to know I did that to both of you. If I could take all the pain away, I would. I’d do anything to be hurt instead of you two.”
“I wish you could, too. Mom puts on a brave face, but I don’t think she’s ever been this sad before. If she doesn’t forgive you, I don’t think we can be friends again, Zep.”
“I understand.”
Her face turns in confusion as she looks at the street. “Dad?”
My guard is up as I stand, ready to stop the man I don’t recognize on the street. And the look on his face says he’s not thrilled to see me talking to Bernie.
Motherfucker really is here.
“Hey! Get away from my daughter!” Ben Samson shouts as he runs from a black Porsche. “Now!”
Definitely paid for with drug money.
If this motherfucker thinks he can take me, he has another think coming. “We’re just talking.”
“Back away!” he shouts, storming across the lawn.
“It’s okay, Dad. He’s our neighbor.”
Neighbor. Not friend. I really have screwed the pooch, haven’t I?
“Then he can go home.”
“Funny, I’ve spent more time with Bernie since Misty moved here than you have her entire life. Who the hell are you to come here and order me around like you’re a parent?” I ask.
“I am her parent. I’m her father.”
“Really? What’s her favorite color?”
He glares at me before glancing to Bernie. “Purple.”
