Once and for All

by Jeannie Watt

Jodie nodded, wondering if the tuition would be paid by a life insurance settlement.

  “I want them to get their feet back under them before they head out into the world. Keeping them stable is important to me.” Sam ran a finger over the condensation on his glass. “Maybe the most important thing to me.”

  The door opened and a whirl of snow came in with the small crowd of people.

  “I guess the storm showed up.” Sam reached for his phone. “I want to touch base with the guys. Do you mind?”

  Jodie shook her head and he punched a number. She could hear the phone ringing from where she sat, then the muffled greeting of voice mail. Sam frowned and redialed. This time there was a pickup.

  “Tyler…are you guys at home?” Sam listened for a few seconds and then said, “It’s snowing. Maybe you’d better—” A chorus of raucous whoops came through the receiver so loudly that Jodie heard them. “Where are you?”

  She glanced away. Oh, boy. When she looked back at Sam, his frown had deepened and his jaw was set in a way that reminded her of her dad.

  “Go home,” he demanded into the phone. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes…. Then you’d better find Beau and get your asses home. Now!”

  Sam shut the phone, his mouth still so tight his lips were almost white. “I, uh, need to go.”

  “I understand,” Jodie said, glad to escape, although she wasn’t thrilled about the circumstances. Single parenthood wasn’t easy and Sam had jumped in during the most challenging years of a kid’s life.

  He flipped a twenty on the table and stood. Several heads turned as he and Jodie headed toward the door. She kept her chin up, ignoring everyone, and followed him outside, where they were hit by a blast of wind.

  It hadn’t started snowing hard yet, but what little snow had fallen was blowing into small white cyclones and somehow shooting down Jodie’s neck. She pulled the collar of her jacket tighter.

  “Sorry you didn’t get to finish your drink,” Sam said when they got to her car, “but maybe it’s best that you get the Spitfire home before the snow starts for real.”

  “Yeah,” Jodie agreed. It was best. Why did she have such a hard time looking away from him?

  Why couldn’t their circumstances be more normal, so she could explore this…situation more thoroughly?

  Sam seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He smiled slightly, then stepped forward and took her face in his chapped hands, tipped her lips up and kissed her.

  Jodie didn’t move at first, stunned as she was by the instant heat that surged through her. She forgot about wind and snow and cold necks as his warm mouth moved over hers. She let go of her coat and ran her hand up his leather jacket, her bare fingers gripping his shoulder.

  “You’re good at that,” she murmured when he lifted his head. She was already missing the pressure of his lips and wanting very much to pull his mouth back to hers. Too bad she’d never find out what else he was good at.

  “Call me when you get home,” he said after leaning in to give her another quick kiss. “So I know you made it okay.”

  “No.” She could still taste him.

  His eyebrows went up.

  “You aren’t going to add me to your list of duties,” she said.

  “Please.” The word came out roughly, as if he wasn’t used to using it.

  She pulled her keys from her pocket. “Sam, go home to your boys. You have a situation and you don’t need to be distracted by me.”

  THE BEAST WAS IN ITS usual spot when Sam pulled into his driveway. He didn’t know what had him feeling more unsettled—the way he’d just parted from Jodie or the prospect of dealing with the twins.

  They were sitting at the kitchen table, obviously waiting for the interrogation, when he came in. Neither boy looked nervous; instead their expressions were annoyingly self-righteous, considering the circumstances.

  “Have you been drinking?” Sam demanded. He and his brother had done their fair share of partying as kids, but he had a whole different perspective on the matter now. Parenting was not for the faint of heart.

  “We’re on the team,” Beau said indignantly. “We don’t drink.”

  “And after what happened to Mom and Dad,” Tyler added in such a low tone that Sam could barely hear him, “we aren’t going to drink and then drive the Beast home.”

  His nephews spoke with total honesty, but Sam still came closer, took a whiff. They smelled of smoke, not necessarily the legal kind, but there was no scent of either alcohol or breath mints.

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “We didn’t do anything,” Tyler snapped back angrily. “We stopped at the party. We fully intended to be back by curfew—which we are, and not because you called.”

  “How many other times have you done this?”

  “What?”

  “Gone to parties when I thought you were just out with your friends.”

  “A few,” Beau admitted.

  “We’ve never done anything wrong,” Tyler reiterated.

  “We have taken kids home, though,” his twin admitted.

  “You’re the designated drivers?” Sam asked in surprise.

  “The DDs? Sometimes.” Neither boy looked repentant. “Sam, we’re sixteen years old. We can make decent decisions.”

  “Sixteen is not exactly an age known for decent decision making. If you go to parties, it’s easy to get into things you shouldn’t.”

  “It’s also easy if you don’t go to parties. We’ve talked about this and made our decisions.” Beau spoke with conviction.

  “You have, have you?”

  “Yeah.” Beau glanced over at Tyler in that way that made Sam think they could actually read each other’s thoughts. Ty nodded. “And we’ve talked about some other stuff, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like we need you to get a life so that we can have a life.”

  “What?” Sam asked incredulously. “How did this get twisted around to me?”

  “You need to relax and stop trying so hard,” Beau said.

  “Trying so hard.”

  “I mean we appreciate it and all, but it’s not helping anything. It’s like you’re trying to make up for us losing Mom and Dad, and you can’t do that. You just—” Tyler shrugged helplessly “—can’t.”

  It was the first time the boys had so casually mentioned losing their parents, and they’d just done it twice in one conversation.

  “I owe it to your dad to see that you’re brought up right.”

  “And you’re doing a good job, but…you kind of…” Tyler looked over at his twin. “What’s the word?”

  “Smother,” Beau replied.

  “Micromanage,” Tyler corrected.

  Sam’s mind was reeling. If this was a ploy to sidetrack him from grounding them because of the party, it was working pretty damned well.

  “If you just relax, you’ll be less stressed, and we’ll do our best not to become delinquents.” Tyler glanced at his brother. “Well, I promise not to be a delinquent.”

  “Me, too,” Beau agreed, in such a solemn tone that Sam felt like laughing. But then again, he didn’t. What the hell?

  He needed a drink, but there was no way he could pour one without setting a bad example for the boys.

  “You’re still grounded for going to the party without telling me.”

  “So if we tell you…?”

  “No,” Sam said adamantly, then rethought the wisdom of taking a tough stance right now. “We’ll discuss it later.” After he’d had time to think about it. “And—” he hesitated briefly “—we’ll talk about other stuff, too.”

  Beau and Tyler exchanged glances, then Tyler cleared his throat and said, “We know that having us here has been kind of hard on you. That we’ve kind of made it so you can’t…” Tyler’s voice trailed off and Beau finished.

  “Go out with women and stuff like that. Like you used to do. Before.” Sam’s life had changed dramatically since the boys had moved in, but he hadn’t rea
lized they’d noticed.

  “Is this why you set me up with Jodie?”

  They nodded in unison.

  “She’s hot,” Beau said. “And I like her. We kind of thought you liked her, too.”

  Sam pressed a hand against his forehead. “So you’re saying I’ve been overprotective and…”

  “Probably have blue balls,” Beau said solemnly.

  It seemed like a good time to end the conversation.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Sam said, feeling totally out-maneuvered. “Maybe not about the blue…whatever, but the other stuff.”

  “All right.” The boys got out of their chairs and Tyler clapped Sam’s shoulder in an empathetic gesture before silently leaving the kitchen and heading down the hall to the pit the boys called a bedroom. Beau hung back for a moment.

  “Sorry about Jodie. I really did think you kind of liked her. And if you guys hit it off, then…”

  “Problem solved for you and Ty?” Sam asked. Micromanaging uncle distracted—although he still didn’t fully agree that that was what he’d been doing.

  “And maybe for you, too.”

  “’Night, Beau.” Sam wanted to end the conversation before his monklike lifestyle came back into play.

  “’Night.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  JODIE BEAT THE SNOW HOME for the most part. A couple of inches had accumulated by the time she turned onto the Zephyr Creek Ranch road, but the trip had been uneventful, except for the wind trying to blow the Spitfire into a ditch. It was good that she hadn’t had to focus on her driving, since most of the way home she’d been replaying her evening with Sam and trying to figure out her next step. Oh, that kiss. She’d had a feeling that she and Sam would have some chemistry if they ever got their hands on one another, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d connected like that with a guy—quite possibly because she never had. Not even with Damian when they’d first hooked up. Was a long celibate streak to blame? She didn’t think so. The sparks had felt genuine.

  More’s the pity.

  She’d just pulled the Spitfire into the garage when her cell phone rang. Her pulse bumped up slightly when she realized it was Sam.

  “Are you home all right?” he asked gruffly.

  “I thought you weren’t going to add me to your duties.”

  “Are you home?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I just got here.” And I can’t quit thinking about you. “Good.”

  There was a brief silence, then Jodie said, “Is there anything else?”

  “Probably,” he replied in a tone that made her pulse quicken. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hung up before she could say goodbye. Jodie held the phone for a moment, staring down at it as if expecting it to tell her what to do. Then she flipped it shut and let herself out of the car.

  It appeared that Sam wasn’t going to just go away after that kiss, and now she needed to decide on a course of action.

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in a long time, Sam was awake for a good part of the night and it had nothing to do with a veterinary emergency. Had he screwed up, the way he was raising the boys? Was he smothering them as Beau had suggested?

  How much of their complaint was from the teenage need for freedom and how much was justified? He wished he knew. The boys were still recovering from the loss of their parents, but maybe Sam had been overcompensating, trying too hard to do what he thought Dave would do. Acting more from emotion than anything. He wanted to do the right thing, and he was desperately afraid of making a mistake.

  He was also exhausted from second-guessing every decision he made. He missed his old life, but he had a commitment here.

  Last night had been the first time they’d mentioned their parents’ deaths in casual conversation. The boys had gone through grief counseling in Elko after David and Maya had died, but they’d been uncomfortable with the counselor and after three sessions had begged Sam not to make them go again. He hadn’t been that comfortable himself and wasn’t certain whether it was because of the counselor or part of the grief process. The boys had settled back into their lives well enough, though, and Sam thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of parenting—for an amateur—up until last night. But no matter how normal things appeared on the surface, they rarely talked about David and Maya.

  Had he made a mistake there, too?

  Monday morning, after the boys had gone to class, Sam called Tricia Lopez, the guidance counselor at the high school, from the vet clinic office. He’d winged it for too long. It was time for some advice, or at least another opinion.

  Tricia was a Wesley native, but had only recently moved back to take the counseling position. Because of that, she asked Sam to explain the situation from the beginning—if he was comfortable sharing. Sam shared. He poured the story out, surprised at how much he had to say, then waited for the verdict. When Tricia didn’t answer immediately, his stomach dropped. He had screwed up. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” He could hear reassurance in her voice. “I was just jotting down some notes.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “I think you’re trying very hard to be a good parent, but you need to be careful not to…set too high a standard for yourself because you feel you owe it to your brother to raise his children perfectly.”

  That was exactly what he’d been doing. The big question was how to stop. “All right,” Sam said slowly, jotting down a few notes of his own.

  “Most teens think their parents are micromanaging,” Tricia continued. “There’s a thin line between doing more than you should and not enough, and no matter what, kids are going to push the envelope. It’s your job to push back. Just be aware of trying to control too much.”

  “Will do.” Or at least he’d try. How was he supposed to know what was too much?

  “And as for the other…the boys have a point. Shutting off your own life isn’t helping matters. If you don’t meet your own needs, then how are you going to meet theirs?”

  “I was just thinking that in order to keep things stable, I should…I don’t know.”

  “But I know you, Sam. You’re always going to be there for those boys and you’re going to make good decisions. Just having you around makes their life stable.”

  “Should I bring up David and Maya? Talk about them more?”

  “I think that might be a good idea. You’ll know if the twins are uncomfortable with it. Trust your instincts.”

  “Thanks.”

  “May I ask a favor?”

  “Sure. What?” Free inoculations? A neutering? Name it.

  “Do you remember Paige Mansfield?” Tricia asked. “She was a couple years behind us in school.”

  “Vaguely,” Sam said, wondering where this was going.

  “She lives in Elko now, but comes into town once a week to do specialized counseling—”

  “We already tried grief counseling,” Sam said. “It didn’t go well. I’m no expert, but I think she made the boys talk about too much, too soon.”

  “Paige is a family counselor and she’s really good at not pushing. If you’re interested in trying just one session to see how it goes, she uses my office in the evening, after practice is over.” Tricia paused, then said, “I can put you guys on the schedule for this week. Tomorrow. You could try one session….”

  What did he have to lose? “Sign us up,” Sam said, although his gut was clenching.

  “You’re going to love Paige,” Tricia said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. “And I honestly think she can help you through the twists and turns of adolescent parenting.”

  “Damn, I hope so.”

  THE BOYS WERE UNUSUALLY quiet when they got back from practice Monday night, making Sam wonder if Tricia had called them in to talk to them. He hoped not, unless she honestly thought it was an emergency. He didn’t know if they would appreciate him sharing with a stranger, even if she was one of his childhood buddies.

  “Hey,” Beau sai
d as he actually took his dirty practice uniform to the laundry room instead of dumping it in a smelly wad on a kitchen chair.

  “Hey,” Sam echoed faintly. “How was practice?”

  “Coach says if we play like we did on Saturday, we’ll get to state for sure.”

  “I agree. That was a great team effort.”

  The three of them stood in awkward silence for a moment. Sam had gotten off work at five, so he’d cooked hamburgers, which were now ready to eat. But for once the boys didn’t mention food.

  “We really hope we didn’t, you know…” Tyler shrugged and glanced at Beau, who for once came up with the words instead of the other way around.

  “Hurt your feelings or anything last night.”

  “You surprised me. That’s all.”

  “Sorry about the blue balls comment,” Beau mumbled, in a way that made Sam think Tyler had discussed the matter with him.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” Sam said, cutting to the chase. “I’m new at this parent game and I’m damned afraid of making a mistake. And, uh, there’s this family counselor who comes to town and we’re going to go see her.”

  The boys exchanged horrified looks.

  “No,” Beau said adamantly. “Not that again.”

  “She’s supposed to be different. Better.”

  Tyler said nothing. He didn’t have to—his grimace said it all.

  “This is moreso that I know when to cut you loose and when to lay down the law.” Sam figured that the prospect of more freedom might appeal to his nephews. “And maybe she’ll see some things we’re missing. Like me not knowing that you guys felt smothered.”

  There were no raucous cheers of agreement.

  “One session,” Sam said, “and then we’ll reevaluate.”

  The proposal was again met with stony silence.

  “One.”

  “All right,” Tyler finally agreed. “But she better not be like the last counselor.” Beau gave a slow nod, looking none too happy.

  “We’ll find out pretty soon. We’re going to see her tomorrow night after practice.”

  “Whoopee,” Tyler muttered under his breath.

  Sam didn’t want to admit it, but he felt the same. But he was adamant about getting whatever help he needed. One session wouldn’t kill them and it might shed light on some issues.