Sullivan paused, considering. “It’s a secret I don’t want to keep anymore.” With a sigh, he leaned against the wooden fence, arms resting on top. “There’s been a lot in my life that I’ve gotten wrong.” He hesitated again then shook his head slowly before his emotion-filled eyes met Clara’s. “Mason is something I got right without even knowing it. He’s family. My family. I want him to know that. If you’re okay with it, that’s is.”
Now, Clara paused. Every alarm inside her blared. Everything would change after that. Mason’s safe bubble would no longer only belong to her. Sullivan and her would co-parent. He’d be involved in all decisions and could hurt Mason. “This is hard for me,” she admitted. “It’s only ever been us.”
“I know,” Sullivan said then took her hand, squeezing tight. “But things have changed now. I’ve changed. And I’ll keep changing and doing what I have to do to be a good role model in Mason’s life. You’ve got my promise on that.” He leaned down, bringing his eyes level with hers. “I won’t hurt him. I won’t leave him.”
That’s when she saw the truth written all over his face. He needed Mason as much as she did. Mason was the good, the sweet, the special that he’d never seen coming. “Okay, we’ll tell him.”
“Tonight?”
She nodded. “Tonight.”
“Sullian,” Mason yelled, running back over to them. “What is that?”
Sullivan glanced into the habit and frowned. “That’s a giant guinea pig.”
Clara laughed. “It’s a Capybara, not a giant guinea pig.”
Sullivan pointed at the Capybara. “Sure looks like a giant guinea pig to me.”
“Me, too.” Mason burst out laughing, grabbing Sullivan’s hand to tug him forward. “Look at the size of its poo.”
Clara stayed back a little, watched them talk boy-talk that she would never understand. But one thing she did understand was their smiles that felt so true and honest, giving off so much warmth she felt it all around her.
Once they arrived home, Clara made a quick spaghetti dinner and Sullivan helped with the sauce. He’d never been so domesticated in his life, and yet, oddly, it all felt very comfortable, a life he’d once had with his family. He knew the difficult questions and answers ahead of him, but for the first time in his life, he felt like he was on the exact right path. He’d come home to make amends, and he was making them. They had planned to tell Mason the truth after dinner, but he had looked tired after the long afternoon, so Clara thought the conversation should wait until tomorrow. Sullivan agreed. After that, he easily fell into the rhythm of Clara’s and Mason’s evening routine, and before bed, he built a blanket fort with Mason and they all watched a Disney movie.
When the movie wrapped up, Clara began dismantling the fort and said, “Off to bed, buddy.”
Sullivan felt a tug on his shirt. “Sullian, Sullian. Come on, read me a story.”
He glanced back, got hit with those sweet eyes, and felt trapped in the best way possible. Nerves about putting Mason to bed alone danced in his gut, but he clamped down on them and followed Mason up the staircase.
When they entered his bedroom, Mason turned back, awaiting Sullivan’s instruction. “You’ll have to help me here, buddy,” Sullivan said. “I’ve got no idea what to do.”
“It’s easy,” said Mason, running to his dresser. He grabbed plaid pants and a T-shirt. “Pajamas, wash my face and hands, brush my teeth. And then a book.” He picked one up and handed it to Sullivan. The front read: Teamwork by Robert Munsch. Sullivan tucked the book under his arm. “Okay, do I wait here for you?”
“Yep,” Mason said, running toward the door. “Mom always says to brush my teeth twice to get all the sugar bugs.”
“Then, brush your teeth twice.”
With Mason off getting ready for bed, he thought back to what his mom used to do for him. Sullivan turned on the nightstand lamp and then hit the switch for the main light. He pulled the sheets back, then sat on the side of the bed where his mother used to sit when she’d read him a story. Warmth touched all the cold places in his chest.
“Reeeeeady,” Mason yelled, charging toward the bed.
Sullivan shoved his thoughts away then settled in next to Mason so he could see the pictures of the story. As he read, Mason listened to every single word and laughed a bunch. A warm comfort slid over Sullivan. He felt like he’d missed so much, so many happy moments, all because he’d run from the pain he couldn’t face.
It wasn’t until he closed the book and rose that Mason finally spoke again. “Are you my dad?”
Sullivan locked his knees. Then Clara entered the room with a soft smile he thought was meant to reassure him, though even she looked unsteady. Sullivan both wanted to run and drop to the floor all at the same time. He turned to Mason and stared again into those eyes that looked so much like his mother’s and realized all this was simple. The truth was good, felt good, and felt right. Sullivan sat back next to Mason. “Yeah, buddy, I am.”
Mason smiled. “Thought so.”
Clara came over and knelt next to the bed. “You’re so clever, sweetie.” She rustled up his hair. “How did you know?”
“Sullian brought you flowers,” Mason explained. “Mommies and Daddies do that.”
Clara’s smile warmed. “They sure do. You’re such a smart cookie.” She tickled Mason’s side, sending him into a fit of laughter.
When that laughter died, Mason looked directly at Sullivan. “Why were you gone?”
Sullivan hesitated, unsure how to answer.
In that slight pause, Clara interjected, “Remember how we talk sometimes about how people’s mental health is important?”
“Yeah,” Mason said with a nod.
Clara brushed the hair back from Mason’s face, her voice as gentle as ever. “Sullivan needed help with his mental health before he could be the best dad to you.”
“Oh,” Mason said then set those clever eyes on Sullivan. “But you’re okay now?”
Sullivan barely got air into his chest but managed, “I’m getting better day by day.” Of course, the answers were far more complicated, and when older, Mason was owed those answers, but for now, this explanation seemed right. Of course Clara knew how to handle all this. An unexpected release of tension hit as he added, “And I’d really like to be in your life now, if you’re okay with that.”
Mason jumped up and threw his arms around Sullivan, catching him by surprise. Until he remembered what a hug like this felt like. A hug so honest and sweet and loving. He tightened his arms around Mason when Mason said, “I can’t wait to tell everyone at school that my dad is a professional baseball player.”
Sullivan laughed and hugged him tighter for as long as he’d allow.
Which wasn’t long. Mason wiggled out of his arms, climbing back into the bed, and his smile lit up the room. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” he told Sullivan.
Sullivan arched a brow. “Snug as a bug in a rug?”
“That’s how you tuck me in,” Mason explained, digging his fingers in around his legs. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
Sullivan breathed past the hit to his chest as the memory of his mother doing that to him at bedtime slid into his mind. Something Clara knew very well. He’d shared that memory of his mother with her once. And her soft smile told him that’s exactly why she’d kept the ritual going. “You’re right. I can’t forget that.” Sullivan rose, tucking Mason in tight. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
Mason grinned. “All tight?”
“All tight.” Sullivan smiled, feeling heat radiating through his chest.
Once Sullivan backed away, Clara sidled next to the bed and kissed Mason’s forehead. “Love you, buddy. If you’ve got any more questions for either Sullivan or me, just ask them, okay?”
Mason yawned. “Okay.”
Sullivan turned off the lamp, remembering back to all the times his mother would blow him a kiss before shutting the door close.
When he followed Clara out into the hall, she adjusted the door and said, �
�You have to leave the door open a little. The light from the hallway kills the monsters.”
He chuckled. “Safety first.”
“Exactly,” she said and gestured down the stairs. “I’ve got drinks for us outside on the porch.”
“I bet we both could use one.”
She agreed with a nod, and he followed her down the steps then out into the warm night, the porch light spilling over them. She sat first on the porch swing and he followed, grabbing his beer that sat next to her wine. A moment passed before he spoke. “I think that went well.”
She finished her sip of wine and nodded. “It did. Kids are amazingly resilient. I’m sure he’ll have a thousand more questions, but at this age, everything is very simple like you saw. He thinks you’re cool, and I have no doubt he’ll like telling people he has a dad. As much as Amelia and Maisie have tried to fill that role, there is no replacing a father’s role in a child’s life.”
He nodded. All the years Sullivan had missed, all that time. He glanced down at his boots he’d left on the porch planks. Boots that were so different from the fancy shoes he wore when he went out in Boston. He’d never realized how much he missed this. The countryside. The dirty boots. The quiet nights on the porch. “Now that Mason knows, where do we go from here?”
She finished her sip then rested her wineglass on her thigh before setting her hard stare on him. “I suppose that’s the question, isn’t it?”
He gave a slow nod.
“Well, is living here in River Rock out of the question?” she asked with a laugh, obviously joking.
“No, it’s not,” he said, dead serious. Her laughter died, and he reached for her hand, sliding the strength of his along her delicate fingers. “Since I’ve come back, I feel happier than I’ve felt in a long time. Today, well, today was amazing.” And finally saying what had been lying between them, he asked, “Aren’t you feeling that same way?”
She glanced down to their entwined hands. “I am happy.” When her eyes lifted, there was unrelenting sadness there. “But I also can’t live in this happy bubble where I only think of myself. Yes, things have been amazing. Yes, I’ve dreamed of having this with us and with having you in our lives. But you don’t live in River Rock, Sullivan. And I know, while you’re doing a lot to help yourself, that living here is not something you want.”
He processed that. “What if what I wanted before has changed now?”
Her eyes searched his. “Then, you can change your mind, but…” Her long pause spoke of remaining pain. “I can’t make that decision with you. Not this time. I…” Her voice hitched as she slowly shook her head. “I can’t go through all that again. So, while I will continue to protect Mason’s best interests, I also know you’re good for him. Having a daddy is important, and it makes me happy you’re in his life. But, as for us, anything beyond saying goodbye at the end of your suspension, is just not in my capabilities right now.”
And that was maybe the saddest part of all. Sullivan had made mistakes. Big ones. But none more terrible than what he’d done to her heart. “I understand.”
She squeezed his fingers, and as she did with everyone, she attempted to make him feel better about it all. “I need this time together as much as you do. I appreciate every second of it, but in all this, I can only think of Mason. I feel like we’re in a really good place. We can’t screw that up by going too deep and drowning again.”
“Then, we’ll stay afloat,” he promised. Mason was at the top of his list of priorities, but so was Clara, and now he knew a hard truth. He wasn’t doing enough to heal her heart. Not even close. And that needed to change.
9
A couple of days later, after dropping Mason off at school, Clara returned home to focus on the brewery. She’d never sent the counteroffers she’d drawn up, and the distributors were checking in to see if she’d made a decision, as was her lawyer. But Clara remained hesitant to send anything in yet, so she delayed by saying she needed more time to review the contracts. Her demands were high, and she needed to be sure she wasn’t asking for too much and they’d all walk away. She was well into responding to emails when she received a text from Sullivan: Can you make it out to Coors Field this morning?
She fired off her response: Are you going to tell me why I need to go there?
You’ll see when you get here. Can we meet in an hour? If possible, bring your sisters.
Confused but growing curious, she responded: Make it an hour and a bit. I need to wrangle them up.
Perfect. See you soon.
She sent quick texts to Maisie and Amelia, asking if they could join her, which they agreed to after sending many questions. Questions that didn’t last long when, on the drive into Denver, Clara filled her sisters in on Sullivan and Mason’s talk last night.
“Kids are smarter than people give them credit for,” Clara said after she’d caught them up and they’d arrived at Coors Field. Located only two blocks from Union Station, the Coors Field building was designed to impress with its curved front architecture and clock tower. Once she parked, she stepped out into the cloudy day and shut the car door behind her, finding the parking lot empty and Sullivan’s truck nowhere in sight. “Mason’s young,” she told her sisters. “He doesn’t really understand why Sullivan hasn’t been there this whole time. He’s only happy that he now has a dad and that his dad plays professional baseball. It’s simple for him right now.”
Maisie met her at the hood, giving a small shrug. “It might not always be that simple.”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” she agreed, tucking her car keys into her front pocket. “I’ve got no doubt his little mind will fill up with questions that need answers, and I’ll—Sullivan and I will get them answered.”
“I think that’s really great,” Amelia said, sidling up to them. “Mason seems really happy when Sullivan’s around. And I feel like Sullivan’s really done the work to be a good role model for him. You gotta give him credit for that. He’s definitely not the sly dog we all thought he was when he first came back. He’s really changed. Or at least looking to better himself.”
“Agreed,” Clara said.
Maisie added, “Besides, you can always take Mason to Doctor Stevens if you feel he needs to talk things out with a professional.”
Clara nodded. “Yeah, I’ve considered that. I’ve got a close eye on him. He’ll be all right, but if he’s not, getting professional help will be at the top of my priority list.” At Maisie’s probing gaze, Clara added, “What?”
“I guess I’m just wondering if you and Sullivan are all right. You haven’t really said anything about you guys.”
Clara paused until it became clear it was nearly impossible to explain. “It’s a lot, you know? There’s a big past there with lots of confusing parts, and I feel like we’re really beginning to heal. But again, going slow through all this is the only way forward.”
“You’ve both been through a lot,” Amelia said in agreement. “There’s no need to rush any of this. I think it’s great you’re figuring all this out for Mason. He’ll be a happier kid for it.” She nudged Clara’s shoulder. “And if I may say, you seem pretty happy too.”
As a couple pigeons landed a few feet away, pecking at the pavement, Clara drew in a long, deep breath. “You know what? I am happy. I mean, when does someone get the chance to rewrite their past and take something that went so wrong and make it better?”
“Not very often,” Maisie said.
“Exactly,” Clara said with a nod. “Things are moving in the right direction, and I’m grateful for that.” Needing to get the show on the road and find out why Sullivan had called them there, Clara gestured her sisters forward. “So, how about we go see why Sullivan asked us to come here?”
Maisie linked arms with Clara. “Yes, let’s do just that.”
Her sisters fell into step with her as they strode through the large parking lot and made it to the main gate, where Sullivan was waiting along with a security guard.
“Good,
you’re here,” he said by way of greeting.
His bright eyes spoke of mischief. “We are, so can you let us in on the secret now?”
“Let me show you.” Sullivan grinned.
The security guard locked the gate behind them then led them toward the concession stand in the large open space with concrete on the floor and metal construction beams exposed in the roof. The stadium was crawling with workers getting ready for the baseball game tonight, where the Boston Red Sox were playing the Colorado Rockies, something Maisie had learned on the drive to Coors Field.
“I’ll leave you here,” the security guard said when they reached the microbrewery located behind the right-field stands.
“Thanks,” Sullivan said.
The security guard flicked the rim of his cowboy hat then headed off to the right. “Thanks again for that autograph for my kid.”
“Anytime,” Sullivan said.
Clara rocked back on her heels, inhaling the ozone-like smell of cement and metal, glancing around the stadium. “So, we are here because…”
Maisie’s gasp suddenly filled the air.
Clara quickly followed her gaze and immediately understood why she was so surprised. Next to the microbrewery was a booth with Foxy Diva merchandise. Hayes was standing behind it.
“Surprised?” Hayes said with a beaming smile.
Clara blinked, processing.
Maisie spoke before she did. “I’m sure I can speak for all of us when I ask, what is happening right now?”
Hayes laughed then flicked his chin toward Sullivan. “I’m just the helping hand here. Sully better explain.”
Sullivan glared at the nickname, but then his expression softened when his gorgeous eyes met Clara’s. “I called in a favor tonight and got you guys a booth for the game.”
Again, Clara blinked. “But the other brewery? Won’t they—”
“It’s fine,” Sullivan interjected. “Like I said, I called in a favor, and they don’t mind helping out another local brewery trying to push ahead.”
Clara felt disoriented. She couldn’t believe her eyes or her ears. “So, they just closed for the night?” she asked, trying to understand.
Feisty Red: Three Chicks Brewery #2 Page 9