“Thanks.” Now he could look around, see what the house was like on the inside, and report back to his mom. She had just cleaned the house a couple of days ago, she said, and she wanted to make sure they didn’t need her to come again.
Seemed spotless to him, but then he was used to living in a horse trailer half the time and the other half in a hotel.
“Have a seat, man.” Mitch waved to a chair at the kitchen table. Another slip of a girl sat with her hands on her chin, swinging her legs, staring at nothing.
She blinked up at him curiously when he sat down. “Hi!”
“Hey, there. What’s your name? I’m Campbell.” He remembered her sister saying they weren’t supposed to introduce themselves unless he introduced himself first.
“I’m Rachel. I’m the prettiest.” She beamed at him, her smile having a bit of a gap in it.
“Well, it’s real nice to meet you, Rachel.”
“Are you friends with my dad? Did you work with him?”
“Oh, we’ve never worked together.” He figured that was the safest answer. “Your sister said you know my momma, Miz Halley.”
Mitch scoffed. “Nice save.”
He gritted his teeth, trying not to be ugly, because he really wanted to just get the hell up and leave. Those little girls were staring at him, and he wasn’t going to be rude to them. Mitch could take what he got.
“She cleaned our house. She’s really nice.” Rachel beamed. “And she makes good cinnamon rolls.”
“She does make good cinnamon rolls.” He remembered those fondly of a Christmas morning, but it had been a while since he’d had any. He glanced at Mitch. “So, what the hell happened, buddy? Pardon my French.”
“I fell off a roof.” Mitch pushed the words out like every one of them caused him pain. “I’m sure your momma told you that.”
“She did, but that doesn’t tell me what happened. Thank you, sweetie,” he told Bekka when she handed him a glass of tea.
“Baby girl, why don’t you take your sisters and go sit in the front room and watch something on the TV?” Mitch said.
Bekka gave her dad a searching glance, but then nodded and grabbed her sister Rachel by the arm. “Come on, Rachel, do you want to watchDora?”
Rachel skipped along beside her sister, while Sarah looked more long-suffering. He remembered that; being smack in themiddle sucked. A middle child was too young for the older ones, but too old to be doing baby stuff with the little ones.
Mitch stared at Cam as he sat and then slowly lowered himself into the chair. “Seriously. Did your mom tell you I was dying or something?”
He chuckled, trying not to be amused, but God, he was. “Basically, she knew I was coming up on a break, and she wanted me to come and put eyes on you.”
Mitch rolled his eyes like dice. “I’m fine. I’m just healing up. Doc says I got another four weeks before I can get up on a roof. I figure I can make it in two. But right now I need the pain to ease up.”
“Were you working for a company?” Which was his way of asking if insurance would help.
Mitch shook his head. “No. I was doing it on my own. I was roofing a bit that somebody else had started and not finished, and they done a piss-poor job, and you know how it is. Two stories is a long way down.”
Two stories. Fuck him. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your legs.”
“Yeah, I got a little break in one foot, but nothing bad enough to bitch about. Really, your mom has been very sweet, but I’m fine. We’re just trying to hold it together for a couple more weeks until we make it through to school.” Mitch swallowed hard and Cam felt damn sorry for him.
This wasn’t a man who was a genuine fuckup. This was a guy who was living like most of them did— paycheck to paycheck. And when that lack of paycheck coincided with the influx of medical bills it sucked. “You got some great girls.”
“I do. I really do. Your mom has been very kind about them too. I do appreciate it. I want to be able to give them everything they need.” Mitch tried to relax, but the brace and the wooden chair obviously conspired against him. “Bekka is growing updamn fast. And little Rachel, she’s still just excited I’m home all the time. Then there’s Sarah.”
“She’s the one with the…” Oh, he couldn’t point out the dog. “The black tutu?”
Mitch’s lips twisted in a grin. “That would be her. She’s my queen of the night, my gothy princess, my deep dark middle child. She’d be scary if she wasn’t the most tenderhearted human being alive. You show her some critter that’s been hurt or that’s in need, and she’s all over it. She likes to pretend that she’s the hardest, most vicious child in history, but I know better.”
“Yeah? Which child was that, then?”
