I asked, “Do you know what a dogfight is?”
His brows drew together. “Everyone does, Amy.”
“No,” I replied quietly, leaning toward him putting my forearms in the bed between us. “A dogfight in regards to a nasty game a pack of boys play on a girl.”
His entire body stilled and his eyes started burning into me.
“You know,” I whispered.
“Do not fuckin’ tell me…” he trailed off like he couldn’t finish.
“I don’t know. I brought it up with Aisling, didn’t get very far. I asked if that movie spoke to her and she just said ‘obviously.’ I didn’t get more out of her before Cill interrupted us.”
Like the words were difficult to say, he ground out, “If some fuckwads played that game with her, you’re a chick, you think she’d have that poster on her wall?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. If it was me, no. I wouldn’t want the reminder. But, Mickey, in that movie, the boy falls in love with the girl. He goes to war and he comes back to her.”
“I’m not—”
“My fear, honey, is that she identifies with the plain, overweight girl in that movie and maybe looks at it in a twisted way as hope for her future. I’ll say that saying that the actress in that film is extraordinary and she was beautiful in so many ways. But my concern is, Ash doesn’t see all of them.”
“Been worried about her weight,” he muttered.
“Don’t. That’s not the issue,” I stated firmly. “She carries extra weight but not that much. And she’s pretty, she’s sweet. She’s a little shy, but it’s cute. And she’s probably supremely aware of her weight when she’s far from obese. You mentioning it at this juncture would not be a good thing. From you, she has to feel she’s nothing but beautiful no matter what. The issue is that’s one symptom in many and some of those include overall not caring about her appearance. For a girl her age, that concerns me. It isn’t that she has to cake on the makeup and spend an hour doing her hair every day. But I don’t think she’s showering, Mickey.”
“Yeah, me mentioning that was when things blew up last night,” he reminded me.
I nodded. “I hope Rhiannon can get through to her. But I’d like to hang out with you guys this weekend, just in case I have another shot.”
“Then you’re here, babe, happy for that for more than the fact you wanna look after my girl.”
I smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back but lifted his hand and sifted his finger through my bangs.
“You didn’t say much about meeting Rhiannon, Amy,” he noted after his hand dropped.
“It went fast and was a surprise for both of us,” I told him.
“And she was cool with you?” he asked, even though I’d already told him she was.
I nodded again.
“She’s worried about our girl,” he said. “Think that’s a good sign. Maybe she’s gettin’ her shit together.”
“Worry about your kids can kick a mom’s ass right into gear,” I reported.
That got me a grin. “Yeah.”
“If my crew can go through what they did and bounce back, Mickey, then really, anything can happen.”
His grin died as he repeated unconvincingly, “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” I stated more firmly.
He changed the subject.
“You gonna sit there all night like that, or you gonna get in bed with me?”
“Get in bed with you.”
“Then do it.”
I sat up. “You do know that kind of thing forced me to go on a date with the slimy Boston Stone.”
He stared at me and asked disbelievingly, “Now that shit’s my fault?”
“It was always your fault,” I retorted haughtily then I cried out when he reached out and yanked me to him.
I landed on his chest. He curved an arm around me as he rolled into me and yanked the covers from under me. He then flicked them over, moved to his back and turned out the light, then rolled my way and gave me his weight when he reached out to turn out mine.
He then arranged us tangled in the middle of the bed.
“I take it discussion of Boston Stone is over,” I remarked.
“That name said in this bed again gets my woman spanked.”
I shut up.
For a second.
Then I asked, “Can we finish this discussion in my bed?”
I heard the smile in his voice as he muttered, “Smartass.”
I smiled right into his chest as I cuddled there.
We were snuggled, quiet and I was drooping when Mickey called, “Amy?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“You find out boys did that to my girl, you don’t tell me that shit. You sort it. You dig deep in there with her and you dig it out. You get her to share it with her mother. But you do not bring that to me.”
I knew what he was saying.
“Mickey,” I whispered.
“She’s beautiful,” he stated.
“I know,” I replied.
“Gotta be responsible. That’d make me not be able to be responsible.”
Yes, I knew what he was saying.
“Okay, Mickey. But, just to say, honestly, I don’t think that poster would be on her wall if that actually happened.”
“Right,” he grunted.
“Right,” I repeated.
“Okay, Amy.”
“Let that go and go to sleep, baby.”
He drew in breath, drawing his arms closer around me as he did.
He let the breath go but not me.
“’Night, babe.”
I kissed his chest and replied, “Goodnight, Mickey.”
It took me a lot longer to get droopy because I spent a lot of time hoping in all that was happening with Rhiannon and Aisling that I hadn’t lied and the Donovan family could bounce back.
And be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Luck o’ the Irish
The next day, late morning, I knocked on Ash’s door.
“Yeah?’ she called.
I opened it and stuck my head in, seeing her on her side in her bed, earbuds in, book open in front of her, still in her shapeless PJ’s, thus no shower.
At her dad’s call, she’d come out for breakfast, ate it with us, then went right back in.
“Hey,” I started. “We’re about to go outside to toss around the Frisbee. It’s chilly but it’ll be fun. Wanna join us?”
“Naw,” she replied. “I’m into this book and I’m almost done.”