by Kacey Shea
“Park!” He points, running through the lush yard, and looking around confused. “Park! Mama push?”
I giggle at his association. He’s right, this estate resembles the playground not far from our flat. “There’s no swings, Matty. We could dig though. Let’s go find some shovels.”
“Shov-bels.” He nods enthusiastically.
We walk over to the old greenhouse my dad had installed for my mother’s fortieth birthday, and thankfully it’s unlocked. I don’t think anyone’s been in here in quite some time. The potted plants are all dead, the soil dry. It’s a shame really. A waste of a perfectly good space, much like the rest of the estate. Matty follows me around, his eyes wide with wonder, and his steps cautious. I think that’s one of the biggest gifts of being his mother, he forces me to stop and view the world through his eyes—grand and in awe at the simplest of things. It takes some scavenging, but we find two gardening spades along with a wide brimmed hat Matty insists on wearing.
We walk back to the covered patio and I let him go to town in one of the planters near the house. My mother won’t approve. We were never allowed to play in the yard, especially near the house. But I can’t find it in myself to care. Which is growth, because there was a time I would have done almost anything to avoid my mother’s disapproval.
“There you are,” Simon says, stepping out onto the patio. In his hands he holds two mugs. “Coffee?” He holds one of the mugs out, and then takes a seat on the step next to me. “I wasn’t sure how many you’ve had, but then I realized it probably wouldn’t matter.”
“Thank you.” I grin at him from over the mug. Of course, he made it exactly the way I like. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“Psh.” He knocks his shoulder playfully against mine and grins. “You just love me for supplying you with your caffeine fix.”
I take a sip and moan, nodding. “You know it.”
He laughs, nodding to Matty. “He’s making a proper mess.”
I wince. “He’ll probably need a bath. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He waves me off. “Sorry I slept so late. It’s almost time for you to be off, yes?”
I swallow against the rush of nerves as I check my phone. “Yeah, I should go change.” I can’t believe I agreed to this. Spending the entire day with Chase has bad idea written all over it. What the hell was I thinking?
“Nervous?”
“Do I look nervous?”
“Babe.” Simon takes in my face a long moment, then lets loose a chuckle. “You are wound tight.”
“Ugh.” I release a sound of distaste, knowing he’s right. My brows pinch together with my frown. “I don’t know what I expected. But this is all harder than I thought it would be.”
“Oh, babe.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. If you need to talk or cry or whatever, you’re not alone in this. Okay?”
I rest my head against his shoulder, leaning into his strength as I’ve done countless times. “Thank you. I’m good,” I say just above a whisper. Closing my eyes, I take a fortifying breath. For a fleeting moment I imagine the shoulder I’m resting against is more muscular and covered with intricate tattoos. A memory of Chase’s scent—cologne, salty ocean air, and something else uniquely him—squeezes my chest with longing for the past. I wonder if he still smells that way. I’m tempted to find out, and that alone has me pulling away from Simon and pushing to my feet.
“Call or text if you need me.” I step to my son and lift the brim of his hat to place a kiss on his sweaty, full cheeks. He’s already starting to shed his baby fat. No longer a baby. I wish I could freeze time, or at least slow it down. “Love you, Matty. Have fun today. Dig lots of holes in Grandma’s yard.”
Simon chuckles, but his gaze turns serious as I pass by. He reaches up to grab my hand, squeezing it in his. “If things get too much today, call me.”
“I will.” I nod, stooping to retrieve my coffee mug before heading inside. Simon’s right, and I could bail on Chase right now if I really wanted. But the honest part of me knows that’s not true at all, my self-preservation be damned. I’ve spent the last three years trying to forget this man and failing miserably. But now, now I want to know everything about him. And that scares me most of all.
12
Chase
I pull up to the curb outside my dad’s house and cut the engine to my truck. I need to pick up Alicia soon but there’s something I want to do first. My gut tightens with nerves as I walk up the steps to my childhood home. It’s an automatic reaction, as is the impulse to be sick. I’ve been through hours of therapy to deal with the demons of my past, but some things are impossible to erase. Pausing outside the door, I reach for one of my coping strategies, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly as I count down from ten to reclaim my inner peace.
Dad knows I’m stopping by. I’ll only be here a few minutes. It’s just a house. Four walls and a roof. Nothing inside can hurt me, except my father’s words. But I’m in control. I can leave at any time. I am choosing to be here.
My father and I have struggled to find ease in our relationship. For so many years I went out of my way to piss him off—vying for his attention, struggling to affirm my worth in his eyes, and wishing he would see what he refused to acknowledge—the sexual assault I experienced for years from my step-sister. Recovery and therapy helped me realize I can’t force that from him, or anyone else, but I can expect it from myself.
I’m in a good place. I like the person I’ve become. But there are some things that trigger old feelings, and this is one of them.
I pull open the screen door and knock.
“It’s open!” Pops hollers from inside.
I twist the knob and step inside, bracing myself for the old familiar pain but surprise washes it away. “Hey, Pops.” The coffee table is filled with piles of old photographs, small boxes littering the room. When I called earlier to see if I could come by and go through photos from my childhood under the pretense of a wedding surprise for Cam, I didn’t expect Dad would help.
“Hi, son,” My dad sits on the edge of his recliner, leaning forward with his reading glasses balanced too far down the bridge of his nose.
“You found them.”
“Yeah, they’re a complete mess.” He pats the leather arm rest of the couch next to him, an invite to join him. “Probably should’ve organized these years ago instead of shoving them in the closet.”
I pick up a few boxes and take a seat next to him. I suck in a breath at the photo atop one of the piles. First by the fact I’m smiling next to Tiff, and second because there’s a distinct resemblance to the little boy I met yesterday. I’m probably only six or seven in the picture, and she’s barely a teenager. My fingers shake as I pick it up to study closely. I swallow hard against the onslaught of memories—a mix of good and nightmarish. It’s hard to reconcile the happy blended family in this photo with the reality of my adolescence. Did Tiff know she was grooming me to stay silent for the future abuse that would occur under her hands? Or was she sick, a victim to her circumstances too?
The little boy in the photo was so innocent, clueless of the horrors that would happen.
My chest aches with pain, wishing somehow I could go back in time and protect him.
“I know.” Pops clasps me on the shoulder. “I just don’t know where things went wrong.”
He’s referring to Tiff ending up in jail for attempted manslaughter, not of her sexual abuse toward me. I consider telling him everything, as I’ve debated telling Cam, but as always I come up with more excuses not to. He already has his mind made up. I’ve done a lot of work to heal, and moving forward is my only priority. Anyway, I don’t think I can deal with his rejection. Deep down I don’t think Dad will believe me. Besides, I’m not about to blow up our family dynamic days before Cam’s wedding. That would be selfish and uncalled for. My relationship with Dad is strained at best, and I’ve accepted that’s all it’ll ever be.
&
nbsp; “These might work.” Pops hands me a small pile of photos. “Take whatever you need. They’re just collecting dust.”
“Thanks.” I push past old demons and work quickly, flipping past the photographs with Tiff.
“You want coffee?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He gets up to poke around the kitchen and I reach for another box. I’ve never seen these photos before, but they must be from a family trip to the beach. Cam can’t be more than fifteen, and I’m maybe two or three. When I flip to one—a close up of me—I suck in a sharp breath.
I might as well be staring at Alicia’s little boy.
The resemblance is uncanny.
He has to be mine, but I knew that yesterday, didn’t I?
Fuck.
My chest squeezes as a cluster of emotions pass through all at once. Relief—that I’m not fucking crazy. Profound sadness—that she kept him from me. That I’ve missed so much. Then anger. I’ve spent the last three years moving on when she held a piece of me.
I have a son, and he doesn’t even know who I am.
Thankful my dad’s in the other room, I pull more photos aside with shaky hands and gawk at them without judgment. Did Alicia think I wouldn’t notice? Did she expect I wouldn’t make the connection? She must think I’m stupid. Or maybe she wanted me to know; maybe that’s why she’s back. But why now? Why after so much time? “What the hell are you pulling?” I murmur aloud, anxious to pick her up and address the elephant in the room.
Maybe she’s not sure I can handle it.
The idea stops my mind from spinning, and a sliver of compassion for Alicia etches its way into my heart. When she left I was so early into my recovery. I hadn’t worked the steps, and had barely started therapy. She had reason to worry I couldn’t step up and be the man she needed.
But now, I’ve done the work. I’m ready. If Matthew is mine, I’m prepared to step up and be the father he needs. If she says he’s not . . . I’m gonna need a blood test to prove it. The stack of evidence in my hands is pretty damning. Whatever the truth is, I’m determined to discover it this afternoon. Perfect, because I also need to show Alicia I’ve got my shit together once and for all. I don’t know why she hid him from me, but I won’t be an absent father. Hopefully after working together today, we can regain some of the trust we held for each other. I pray she’ll allow me to be part of his life.
After a quick coffee with Pops, I follow my GPS to the address Alicia texted me last night. I knew her family had money. I also knew it’d be a nice place by the general location, but nothing prepares me for the looping, long driveway that leads me toward an expansive estate—or rather, a mansion. Fuck. Alicia’s family is loaded.
I’m not exactly sure where to park, or whether I should ring the front doorbell, but I don’t have to decide either of those things because Alicia’s waiting outside, sitting on one of the front steps. She pushes to her feet and walks over to greet me before I have the truck in park. I press a button, rolling down my passenger window, and let out a long whistle. “Hey, nice place.”
Her lips press together in a tight line and she reaches for the handle to pull open the door and climb in. “Let’s get this over with.”
A chuckle escapes my mouth, which only narrows her glare further. She’s still as feisty as ever, and I’m guessing she’s not thrilled to run errands with me. Too bad. I hook my thumb toward the back cab. “Jill said you’d have someplace to store all that.”
“Oh, uh.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, follow the back drive up that way.” She points in the general direction.
I shift the truck into drive, my wheels slipping on the gravel a second before lurching the entire truck forward.
“Shit!” Alicia flies forward, stopping her movement by bracing her hands on the dash. “Wait a damn second,” she grumbles. “At least let me get my seat belt on first.”
Damn, she’s grumpy.
“I thought you were a morning person.” I chance a glance at her, taking in her stiff shoulders, pouty lips, luscious curves. Fuck me. I turn my gaze back to the road, annoyed I can’t notice her appearance without appreciating her beauty.
“Yeah, well, people change.” She points at a building ahead.
I pull my truck to a stop next to it. “And thank God for that, yeah?”
She doesn’t answer, but her body loses some of the tension from before. She understands better than anyone the power of transformation and redemption. Alicia opens her door and heads toward the building, tapping out a code to open the large garage door.
I grab several of the boxes from the back of my cab and stack them inside the empty bay. It’s a large space, enough to restore a few cars but it’s far from the house. Perfect for staging all the wedding crap, but I wonder what it’s normally used for because it’s empty. As soon as my truck is empty, Alicia lowers the door and then we’re off to our first stop of the day.
Inside the cab, the silence between us stretches between bouts of awkward conversation. My heart burns to ask her about Matthew, but I wait, knowing that’s not going to be an easy topic. “So, how long are you in town for?”
“Just the week. We fly back to London on Tuesday.”
Fuck, that doesn’t give me much time. “You like it there? Your job and everything?”
“Do you even know what I do?” She grins, the first hint of a smile I’ve seen all morning and I feel as if I won the lotto for putting that joy on her face.
“Uh.” I scrub a hand over my face and rub my short beard. “All I know is it must be something important.”
“Why’s that?” There’s a twinkle in her eyes as she lifts her chin.
“Because it’s kept you away for three years.”
Wrong answer. Her smile falls, and she leans her body against the door of the truck, as though she wants to get as far away as possible. Fucking hell.
The rumble of the truck’s engine fills the space for another mile but I can’t take it anymore. I’m wasting precious time. The longer we don’t talk, the harder it will be to ask the questions I really want. “You didn’t keep the purple hair.” Hair is a safe topic, right?
She sighs, running her fingers through the ends of her dark locks. “It’s not professional.”
“I liked it.” I pull to a stop at the light and look over at the woman who is so familiar in some ways, and yet a completely different person in others. The time between us sits like an impenetrable force.
Her gaze cuts to mine. “I’ve changed.”
“I can see that.” I nod sadly, before fixing my gaze back on the road.
It’s just before eleven when I pull into the lot of the teen center, a small non-profit that gives kids a safe place to hang out. Cody and Ryan, two of our regulars, step outside as I park along the curb. They’re most likely leaving to walk down the corner to smoke or vape. We don’t allow it in the center, but I understand these kids are fighting bigger battles. One step at a time. I cut the engine and hop out of the cab. “Where are you troublemakers off to?”
“Just a walk down to 7-11. You want anything?” Cody says, his stare drifting to Alicia as she gets out of the truck. His eyes widen appreciatively.
Ryan is apparently tongue-tied by a pretty woman.
It takes everything not to roll my eyes at these two. “I’m good.” I walk around to the back of the truck. “You gonna be back soon? I could use some help.” I pop the gate to my truck bed.
Their stares leave Alicia to check out what I’ve got, and their eyes widen with excitement.
“Wait!” Ryan practically shouts. “Are these the new bags you promised us?”
“Is that a rowing machine?” Cody hops up into my truck bed, his plans of a trip to the convenience store totally abandoned.
“Hell yeah, it is.” I grin. “Help me slide that box out?”
Alicia walks around to the bed of the truck, interest in her big brown eyes.
“This will only take a few minutes. I promise.”
&nbs
p; “Do what you need to.” She watches as the boys help me lift the equipment out of the truck.
Once we have the items out, I walk around her to get to the back seat of my quad cab. “Carry this?” I hold out the box of bolts and the chain I’ll need to hang the punching bags.
“Sure.” She takes them, and I lift the back seat to retrieve my tool box.
“A few minutes, huh?” She laughs lightly, eyeing my tool box and then the heavyweight kickboxing bags Cody and Ryan lug toward the door.
I lift my brow, a teasing grin on my lips. “Ye of little faith.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugs unapologetically. “I’ve never seen any man finish a project in minutes.”
“Be prepared to be amazed.” I lock up my truck and head toward the center’s door.
“Chase! Hey, man.” Mav rolls forward, a smile on his face. “Didn’t think we’d see you this week.”
“He got the bags!” Cody yells.
“I see that.” Maverick laughs. “You need help with anything?” He rotates his motorized wheelchair to turn and keep pace as we head toward the area of the center that’s been purposed as a fitness center.
“Nah, let the young-uns do the heavy lifting.” I wink at my best friend. “This wasn’t supposed to come in until next week, but I figured the kids would get more joy out of it rather than taking up space in my living room.”
“You spoil them.” Maverick chuckles as Cody and Ryan argue about where to place the punching bags.
“Eh.” I shrug. “The guys at the station wanted to do this.” I nod toward the teens. “Hey, just leave them there for now. I’ve got to get these mounts installed. Don’t forget, the rower’s still outside.”
“Shit.” Ryan’s brows lift. “Bro, let’s go before someone jacks our stuff.” The boys take off, the excitement in their smiles contagious.