Harry’s war with not just the children, but himself, and his inadequacies hurt him. It was one thing to be their doting uncle, dropping in from time to time to share a meal and hang out, quite another to be thrust into the role of rule maker. Yet, he loved them enough to try and find a way, leaving Mara sick with guilt that she’d unloaded an even bigger burden on him—parenting as a werewolf who had human children.
Mara placed her hand on his, stopping the swirling motion he made with the wet rag, trying hard not to revel in his hot skin beneath her cool flesh. “I’m sorry, Harry. Please believe that. I’ll help in any way I can. I know you don’t totally buy that right now, but because of what I’ve done to you, you’re part of our pack now. No one goes without whatever’s needed, and if you need help with the kids while you adjust, we’re here to do that.”
Harry’s dark, luscious head popped up. “What if I told you I didn’t want to adjust? I don’t believe I have to adjust. If it can be done, it can be undone.”
Nina was right. Harry wasn’t looking at this from the fantastical. He was looking at it from a scientific point of view. “I’d tell you you’re crazy, but you’ll find that out sooner rather than later. For now, how about we focus on getting the children into bed—”
A soft moan somewhere from the floor halted more discussion.
Harry poked his head over the top of the sticky butcher block island in the center of the room and looked toward the floor. He sighed, his chin falling to his chest, his eyes scrunching shut. When he opened them, he asked, “Mimi? I already put you to bed. Why did you get out? And more importantly, why are you sleeping on the floor, sugarsnap?”
Hearing him speak to the moan on the floor twisted her heart into an unforgiving knot. Mara looked over the top of the island to find a cherubic face, creamy and rosy-cheeked, her kinky-curly hair sticking up at odd angles. Her tiny body curled around a cat wearing a purple blanket over his solid black body.
“Mimi?” Harry pressed.
Mimi shook her head. “Coconut didn’t want to sleep in the bed, Uncle Harry. She told me she wanted to sleep out here, near the cans of tuna.”
Harry dropped to his haunches, brushing a tendril of her wild hair from her bleary eyes. “Mimi? Coconut can’t talk, honey.”
Sleepy and as defiant as her brother, Mimi sat up, cuddling Coconut to her chest. “She can so talk to me, and when she talked to me, she said she wanted to sleep by the tuna.”
His eyes found Mara’s as she leaned forward over the counter. “She hates her bedroom, but I think the real problem is she hates being in it alone,” he muttered.
Ah. Here was a little girl who’d had her small world ripped to shreds, and she was acting out in her fear of her new surroundings. “Did she have Coconut . . . before . . . ?”
Harry’s nod was firm, but his lips were grim.
Mimi was afraid Coconut would leave her alone in her bedroom. More simply, Mimi was afraid of being left alone period. She was clinging to the remaining constants in her life for all they were worth so they wouldn’t suddenly disappear without warning.
Mara got it. She’d done the same with her dog, Archimedes. He’d been her constant companion while the illogical fear everyone around her was going to die at any moment passed.
Mara gave Harry a knowing nod, then scooted around the island and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs over each other so she’d be eye to eye with Mimi. “Hey, I have an idea. What if you took a can of cat food to your room? Do you think Coconut would stay in there with you then?”
Her Kewpie doll lips pursed. “Who are you?” she asked with a tone that read more like, “Who do you think you are?”
Mara grinned at her. “I’m Mara Flaherty. I work with your Uncle Harry. We had some work stuff to talk about, and that’s why I’m here. It’s nice to meet you, Mimi, and Coconut, too.” She ran a hand over the cat’s back, scratching its ears.
“You have really pretty hair.” Mimi reached up and wound a strand of it around her chubby finger. “It’s soft and straight and really long. Mine’s curly and ugly.”
Mara took a strand of Mimi’s dark hair and gave it a gentle tug. “I don’t think so. I think it’s beautiful. Do you have any idea how much I’d like to get my hair to curl like that? But it doesn’t. So maybe, if you agree, of course, we can take Coconut to your room, and if you get into bed, I’ll tell you all about how much I hate my straight hair, and you can tell me how much you hate your curly hair. Whaddya say?”