Bayside Fantasies (Bayside Summers Book 6)

by Melissa Foster

  “You okay?” Tegan asked.

  She looked radiant in a long-sleeved pink lace shirt, and he hoped to hell things went well today, because he didn’t want to disappoint her any more than he already had. He’d apologized a million times for last night, and she’d been just as forgiving as always, which made him even more determined to try to stop creating situations that called for apologies and forgiveness.

  “Yeah.” He leaned across the console to kiss her. “Thank you for sharing what little time we have with my family.”

  “I think I should thank them. You were theirs first.”

  As he touched his lips to hers, he saw Emery running toward the car from the side yard and Dean traipsing behind her. He gave Tegan a chaste kiss and said, “Here we go.”

  They stepped from the car, and his eyes met Dean’s, which were a little less serious than normal. Their bruises and cuts had healed, but he knew their relationship would take much longer.

  Emery hugged Tegan and exclaimed, “This is going to be so fun! Rose is out back with Sherry and Doug. We’re going to make pies for after lunch.” She looked at Jett and said, “I’m stealing your girlfriend!”

  Tegan turned, her blond hair swinging around her smiling face.

  “Go for it,” Jett said, winking at Tegan. As they walked away, Jett tried to wrap his head around how good it felt to see Tegan with Emery walking into his parents’ backyard like this was a weekly gathering.

  Dean pulled him into a manly embrace and said, “I’ve got to admit, I half expected you to cancel.”

  “I’m here. Got in at five this morning.”

  “You sure you’re ready to face Dad with a hammer in your hand?”

  Dean didn’t smile, and he probably hadn’t meant it as a joke, which stung. Not that Jett would ever lay a hand, much less a hammer, on his father. But worrying about what would come from the two of them being in the same place for any length of time had been their reality for so long, Jett wondered if it could ever really change.

  “I think I can handle it,” he said, though as they headed into the backyard, every step brought trepidation.

  His father was standing at the other end of the yard with his back to them. A tool belt hung around his waist, looking ridiculously out of place on a man who lived in expensive dress clothes, despite the jeans and denim shirt he wore today. His hands were on his hips as he stared up at the damaged treehouse. It was a simplistic design, four walls that had come up to Jett’s chest when he was young, a deck with railings on one side and a tarp draped over a rope for a roof. The tarp was long gone, but the frayed and dirty rope remained stretched between two trees upon which the treehouse was built. Pieces of wood were nailed to one of the trees and served as a ladder that led to a hole in the floor. A branch had fallen and taken with it most of one of the walls and the deck.

  Jett’s gaze went to a mass of nails they had pounded into one of the trees when they were kids. They’d slung a rope over them and used it as a pulley. At the time, it had been one of their greatest inventions. They’d used it to lift toys and food and just about anything else that they were strong enough to pull up. They’d spent so many years playing in that treehouse, staying out from sunup until sundown. He could practically hear their voices now. Jett smiled with the memory. It was hard to believe he’d ever been that carefree.

  “It seemed bigger when we were kids,” he said to Dean.

  Dean nodded. “It was the answer to our dreams.”

  Jett’s gaze shifted to Tegan, who was talking with his mother, grandmother, and Emery on the patio. Man, how his dreams had changed. “Let me say hi to Gram and Mom, and then we’ll get started.”

  “That’d be the path of least resistance.”

  Jett shook his head. “Are you going to ride me the whole day?”

  “Probably.” Dean folded his arms over his chest, his beard lifting with his grin. “Old habits and all that.”

  Jett muttered, “Ass,” as he walked away, and heard Dean chuckle.

  Rose reached for him as he approached. Her hand was soft as butter and as frail as a bird, but she was still emotionally as strong as an ox. He kissed her cheek. “Hi, Gram.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Rose said. “Tegan told us you had an overnight meeting in the airplane?”

  “Just making the best use of my time,” Jett said as he kissed his mother’s cheek.

  His mother said, “I’m glad you made it, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, I’m glad, too,” Rose added. “But I’m not so sure the people who work with you feel the same.”

  “I pay them well,” Jett reminded her. “We needed to hash out a few things for an acquisition I’m working on, and I needed to be here. I think it worked out well.” He draped an arm over Tegan’s shoulder and said, “Need anything before I get started on the treehouse?”

  “She’s fine,” Emery said before Tegan could reply.

  Jett held Tegan’s gaze and said, “She’s always fine.” Tegan blushed and he kissed her, making her cheeks a little pinker.

  She gave him a nudge and said, “Go do your thing. Your father is waiting, and nobody wants to hear you flirt with me.”

  “I do, honey,” Rose said. “I’m an old woman. I need to get my thrills living vicariously through others, and my grandson is due some flirting.”

  “Enough, Gram,” Jett warned. “And don’t fill her head with made-up stories about when I was a kid.”

  “Like how you and Dean once measured your penises and had a big argument about whose was bigger over dinner?” Rose asked. “Oh, honey, I would never do that.”

  All the women laughed.

  Jett scowled. “Lies, all lies. She’s bordering on dementia, too. You can’t trust a word she says.”

  He went to join Dean and their father by the shed. His father looked as uneasy as Jett felt, and Dean wasn’t far behind, watching the two of them like a hawk.

  “Ready to get to work?” their father asked.

  Jett was relieved he hadn’t gone for small talk. “Absolutely. What’s the plan?”

  Their father’s eyes moved between Jett and Dean. “You mean you boys didn’t make a plan?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Dean said. “This was Jett’s idea.”

  “It’s cool. I’ve got this under control.” Jett looked at the treehouse and quickly devised a plan. “We should probably start with the wall, then fix the deck.”

  “Why don’t I work on the deck while you two work on the wall?” Dean suggested.

  Nothing like being thrown feetfirst into the fire.

  “Sure. Sounds good. Let’s get our tools and ladders and get started. I’ve got to catch a plane at six.” Jett headed into the shed.

  His father followed him in and said, “I’ve got my tools. I’ll get the ladder.”

  “I’ve got it, Dad,” Jett said. “You don’t want to mess up your hands.”

  “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’ll do whatever it takes to put this thing back together,” his father said.

  Jett wondered if he was talking about their relationship or the treehouse. “Who’s going to operate if you break a finger?”

  His father picked up the ladder and said, “The next best surgeon.”

  Jett watched him walk out of the shed, feeling shell-shocked. He turned back to the tools wondering when work had fallen off the top of his father’s list of priorities.

  He snagged a pair of work gloves to give to his father and reached for a hammer.

  Dean thrust a plastic toolbox in front of him and said, “I’ve got your tools right here.”

  “And I’ve got your black eye right here.” Jett lifted a fist. He looked over the toolbox and recognized it from when they were kids. “Where’d you get that thing?”

  “Mom was going through our old toys.” Dean leaned against the workbench and said, “I told her our baby needed gardening tools instead, but you know…”

  Jett froze. “Baby?”

  Dean nodded, the pride in h
is eyes hitting Jett right in the center of his chest.

  “That’s great, man, congratulations.” Jett embraced him. “Does everyone else know?”

  “No. It’s really early. We just found out and we figured we’d tell Mom and Dad first.”

  “They must be thrilled. Gram, too.” Jett looked across the lawn at Tegan as she and Emery followed his mother and grandmother into the house. A ripple of longing moved through him. Would he and Tegan ever have that together? A family of their own? What would his kid have? A calculator? He gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn’t look that far into the future when he was still chained down by his past.

  “Everyone’s excited,” Dean said. “I still can’t believe I’m going to be a father. The baby’s due in January.”

  “Emery’s feeling okay? She seemed like her normal peppy self at the wedding.”

  “She got lucky. She’s only had a few days of morning sickness.”

  “Oh man, Dean. You threw her over your shoulder. You could have hurt her.”

  “You think I’d chance that? I was careful; trust me. Nothing is more important than my doll and that little baby inside her.” Dean grabbed a ladder and said, “It’d be nice if at least one of our baby’s uncles were around more often.”

  “I hear ya,” Jett said as they went to join their father by the treehouse.

  “I hope so,” Dean said. “Because I don’t think Doug’s ever planning on living in the States again, and Emery’s brothers are great, but they’re not you.”

  Jett got a little choked up about Dean wanting him around his baby after all they’d been through.

  “Ready, boys?” their father asked.

  “Yeah. Did you get wood?” Jett asked.

  His father looked down at his crotch and said, “Not yet. You?”

  Dean burst into laughter, kicking Jett out of his momentary silence from the idea that their proper father would make such a joke.

  Jett hiked a thumb at their father and said, “Who is this guy?”

  Their father held out his hand and said, “Douglas Masters, reformed father first, selfish prick last. Nice to meet you.”

  Jett didn’t know what to say to that, either, so he tossed the gloves to his father and shook his head, thankful his father had found a way to break the ice.

  He and his father didn’t talk much as they carried wood, set up ladders, and got themselves organized. They worked side by side, tearing off the old weather-beaten boards, and as time passed, they fell into sync working as a team and the tension between them eased. Dean worked alone rebuilding the deck, but his attention never left Jett and their father for too long.

  The girls brought out lunch, and Jett said, “Ready for a break, old man?”

  “I am. This is hard work.” His father sat on the treehouse floor, red faced from his efforts. He took off his gloves, set them on the floor, and said, “We never did anything like this together when you were young. That’s on me, along with a whole lot of other trouble. I’m sorry, Jett, for everything. For leaving when you were so little, for the time we’ve lost, and the way it’s left a rightful chip on your shoulder and mine. I just want you to know that I don’t blame you for the rift between us. I took a happy, confident little boy and turned his world upside down. I lived that nightmare with my own father, and I take full responsibility. I just hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me enough that we can do more things like this.”

  Jett cleared his throat, trying to push past the emotions clogging it. He wasn’t prepared for anything his father had said, and for the third time that day, he didn’t know how to respond. He went with humor. It wasn’t the best way to handle it, but at the moment it was all he could manage. “You sure you can handle more physical labor?”

  “Like I said, I’ll do whatever it takes to put this thing back together.”

  As his father descended the ladder, Jett saw that little boy whose world had been turned upside down even more clearly. He saw him turning into an angry, unforgiving teenager, and the truth slammed into him. His father might have broken his trust, but it was Jett who had worn the broken bones of their relationship like armor, causing them to lose the three years in between when his father had come home and when he’d become intolerable again. The lost years that followed were on his father, until the last two and half years, when he’d tried to change. Those lost years were on Jett. Had he been out for vengeance? Trying to hurt his father as his father had devastated him? He didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a thing, but he knew the hard, ugly truth. Wounds had to be cared for in order to heal, and Jett had been merciless in his ire.

  His father had never stood a chance.

  As the burden of truth lifted, the chains of the past broke free, revealing a future Jett never expected—one that included seeing his father through new eyes.

  “Jett?” Tegan called up to him. “Are you coming down?”

  Her sweet voice tugged him from his thoughts. “Yeah, babe. Be right there.” If not for Tegan, today might never have happened.

  He looked around the beat-up treehouse knowing that the ghosts that had been his constant companion since he was a kid, that had ridden up the ladder like a gorilla on his back, wouldn’t be making the trip down.

  Thank God there was no roof to trap them in.

  Fly, fuckers. Fly fast and far away.

  “Everything okay?” Tegan asked softly as he climbed down to the ground.

  He kissed her, and even that felt better than ever before. “Perfect, babe. Just perfect.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  LUNCH INCLUDED A cacophony of excitement over Dean and Emery’s baby news and a plethora of delicious food. After they finished eating, the men went back to work. They measured and cut, leveled and hammered, joking the whole time with each other. The girls were on the patio talking about the Wellfleet Flea Market and making something called jam pizza with Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treat jams made by their friend Leanna Bray-Remington. Her husband, Kurt, was a thriller writer. Jett wondered if Jock knew him, and now that he was thinking of friends, it dawned on him that Rowan’s last name was Remington, too, and he wondered if he and Kurt were related. His mind continued wandering, thinking of how cool it would be to go with Tegan to check out the flea market, which he hadn’t done in years, and to the drive-in movie theater. He’d almost forgotten about how his mother used to make popcorn sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon for them to eat while they watched movies from their car. His hungry girl would love that sugary popcorn. He caught Tegan sneaking another glance at him, as she’d been doing all afternoon, and he blew her a kiss. She pretended to catch it. He wanted more weekends like this, spending time with the family he felt like he barely knew and the woman he adored.

  When they finally pounded the last board into place, Jett felt as revitalized as the treehouse.

  Their father put a hand on his and Dean’s shoulders and said, “We make a hell of a team, boys.”

  Those were words Jett never thought he’d hear, and they felt damn good.

  He checked the time, and that good feeling soured. With the weight of lead in his gut, he pulled Tegan into his arms, and as everyone else talked about how great the treehouse looked, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve got to get washed up. It’s almost time for me to leave.”

  Her eyes saddened, but she managed a sweet, “Okay.”

  He went inside and washed up, and when he came out of the bathroom his father was walking out of the kitchen. He said, “Jett, do you have a minute? I want to show you something.”

  “Sure.” Jett followed his father down the hall and into his office. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in it, but he remembered all too clearly how many nights his father had locked himself in there. The bookshelves were packed tight with medical texts. A neat stack of files sat atop his mahogany desk, and family pictures lined the walls. Had they always been there? He couldn’t remember, but then he realized it didn’t matter. They were there now.<
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  “Thanks for asking me not to tear the treehouse down,” his father said as he unlocked the file drawer in his desk. “It was a labor of love when I built it, and I’m glad our grandchildren will be able to enjoy it.”

  “I didn’t know you built it. I thought you hired someone to do it and they worked on it while we were in school.”

  “I probably should have.” He set the key on top of the desk and said, “I never wanted you boys to feel like I did as a kid. My father never spent any time with me. He cared only about grades and the impressions we made on others. When you boys were born, I had every intention of being the type of father I’d always hoped for. I wanted you boys to grow up knowing how much I loved you and how important you were to me. I wanted to support your dreams, no matter how viable or silly. I know I screwed that up when you were a teenager and for what feels like forever after that, but we don’t need to beat that dead horse. You boys were very convincing about needing that treehouse. Doug reasoned with me about you three needing privacy, but you were more visceral.” He spoke in a kidlike voice and said, “‘Come on, Dad. Don’t you remember being a kid? We need a fort, a headquarters to plan our adventures.’”

  “I remember that,” Jett said, trying to keep his emotions in check.

  “You were pretty damn cute. And Dean? He just wanted you and Doug to have whatever made you happy, so he’d turn those serious little eyes up at me and say, ‘Please, Daddy?’”

  “Always the peacemaker,” Jett said.

  “Yes, he has always sought peace. I didn’t know a damn thing about building a treehouse, but you boys used to look at me like I could do anything back then. Let me tell you something, son. There is no greater joy and no heavier pressure than trying to live up to your children’s expectations. I wanted to build that treehouse more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. But I had never even held a hammer, and I sucked at it.”

  Jett chuckled. “You must have been a quick study, because you handled the hammer like a pro today.”