Read Online Soaring by Kristen Ashley - Free Book Online

admit that it felt good to have company. To feel activity around me. To hear the murmur of voices. To exchange words or shuffle by a body and get or give a smile as you did it.
    I hadn’t had that in a while. Not on a regular basis in three years and not even frequently for the last ten months.
    I liked it.
    And Mickey had good kids, though that part wasn’t surprising.
    We were done in no time and when we were, I found that I wished we weren’t.
    This was because the second we were, Mickey said, “Time to get outta Miz Hathaway’s hair.”
    To which Cillian instantly replied, “Can I have a bag of Reese’s cookies before we do it?”
    Mickey grinned at his son. “You’re costin’ me a fortune in food, kid.”
    Cillian grinned back, unrepentant, probably because he knew he was but he also knew his dad didn’t care in the least.
    “Just to say,” I butted in and got two sets of blue eyes, “for neighbors, the goodies are free.”
    “Not gonna raise cash for the league, you do that,” Mickey told me, wandering my way, his son doing the same and doing it close to his dad.
    He made it to the opposite side of the counter, scanned the signs I already had set up to announce the prices of treats, and he did this pulling out his wallet.
    “Really, Mickey,” I said. “Aisling helped me frost and clean up. Goodies are payback.”
    He looked to me. “Really, Amelia, Cill’s in that league so we’re chippin’ in.”
    With his eyes on me, warm and friendly, I could do nothing but agree so I did this on a nod.
    He tossed a five dollar bill on my counter, declaring, “Junior says this gig starts at seven. We’ll be here at a quarter to.”
    My insides clutched in fear at this offer, but before I could get it together to politely decline, Cillian shouted in horror, “In the morning?” His face was wreathed in that horror as he finished, dread dripping from each syllable. “ On a Saturday? ”
    Mickey looked down at his son. “You want new head gear, shoes and gloves next season?”
    “Yeah,” Cillian muttered like he wished he didn’t have to.
    “Then we’re up early and over here to help Miz Hathaway sell all this crap tomorrow,” Mickey decreed.
    “That really isn’t—” I started but stopped when Mickey’s eyes sliced my way.
    Point taken. Absolutely.
    I’d seen Mickey Donovan’s eyes friendly, smiling, laughing, thoughtful, assessing.
    But the look in them right then said that when Mickey talked, his children listened and no one said a word to the contrary.
    The problem was I didn’t want Mickey over at my house first thing. In fact, Josie, Jake, Junior, Alyssa and their families were going to be there at six thirty so I didn’t actually need Mickey and his kids there.
    I stared into his blue eyes and decided not to share that.
    Mickey broke contact and looked from his boy to his girl. “Now, say goodnight to Miz Hathaway and then let’s get home.”
    I got two goodnights, one disgruntled (Cillian), one quiet (Aisling) and gave them back as they headed to the door.
    Mickey did too.
    So I did as well.
    At the door, Mickey stopped just outside of it and ordered his children, “Careful of the street, I’m right behind.”
    “’Kay, Dad,” Cillian muttered, starting to trudge across my yard.
    “Boy, path,” Mickey directed.
    “Oh, right,” Cillian looked to me, changing direction and heading toward my front walk. “Sorry, Miz Hathaway.”
    I wanted to tell him I didn’t think his feet would damage my grass simply treading on the turf and he could take the more direct path to his house, but I didn’t.
    I said, “It’s okay, kiddo.”
    He grinned at me.
    Aisling silently put her hand between her brother’s shoulder blades and guided him down the path.
    Mickey stood watching.
    I did too.
    When they’d crossed the street safely and Cillian was racing up their yard while Aisling meandered behind him, Mickey turned to me.
    “Their mother drinks.”
    At his blunt honesty and the fact it