by L. A. Witt
“Meet you partway?” she asked flatly. “What do you mean?”
“Just come to the counseling sessions and keep an open mind. That’s all I ask. I know this is hard for you and your brother. I’ve put you both through hell. But if you can do that much for me . . .” I ran out of words. Out of air.
Haley, please . . .
“You’ll really do that?” she asked, her voice even but almost impossible to read. “Fly down here just to go to counseling?”
“Absolutely.”
Silence. Long, painful silence punctuated by the pounding of my heart. I held my breath. I was pretty sure Scott did the same, even though I doubted he could hear much. My hand was sweating inside his, but neither of us let go.
Then Haley exhaled. “Okay.”
One word, and she damn near broke me.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess we’ll see if it helps.” Teenage indifference laced her tone, but didn’t quite mask the softness. That voice I hadn’t heard in way too long. As if, beneath that anger and cynicism, my little girl was still there.
“Okay.” I didn’t even try to mask the unsteadiness. “Your mom and I will make the arrangements.” I paused. “Thank you, Haley.”
“I guess . . . I guess I’ll see you soon?”
I closed my eyes, squeezing a hot tear free. “Yeah. As soon as possible.”
“’Kay. Do you want to talk to Mom?”
“Please.”
No “Good-bye,” no “I love you” from either end, but a conversation that ended without a click or a slamming door was a damned good start.
“It’s me,” Jackie said. “So, I guess she’s on board?”
“Yeah. She is.”
“Good. Well, if we’re going to do this, I can help with the airfare. It’s going to add up.”
“I don’t care about the money. I really don’t. I just . . .” My voice tried to crack, so I cleared my throat. “I want to fix this.”
“I know you do.” More silence. Finally, she took a deep breath. “If you’re willing to come down just to go to a counselor with them, I’ll make arrangements. And I think this whole thing will do the kids a lot of good.”
“I hope so,” I whispered. “I’ll call my boss on Monday. And let Anna know.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to get the time away?”
“I can use my days off. It’ll mean a long day, flying down and back, but if that’s what it takes . . .”
“Okay.” She exhaled. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do this.” She paused. “Thank you, Jeremy. For not giving up on them.”
“I couldn’t in a million years.”
“I know. But I also know this hasn’t been easy for you. I . . . I have to admit, I thought you were running away when you went to Washington, but—”
“I was,” I said. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was. I still have to work up here, but as much as I can, I want to come back to them.”
She released another breath. “Do you want me to make the arrangements, or—”
“Actually, I know someone up here who can help.” I squeezed Scott’s hand. “He’ll get us in touch with some colleagues in LA, and we’ll go from there.”
“Oh. All right. Well, let me know. Make the arrangements, and we’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
After I hung up, I leaned forward, elbows on my knees and hands sliding around the back of my neck. I didn’t break down, but a few tears escaped, especially when Scott wrapped his arms around me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” I whispered. “It’s . . . This is the first positive step we’ve had since the divorce.”
He put a hand between my shoulders and made slow, soothing circles. “This won’t happen overnight. It took a lot of years to get to this point, and it’ll probably take more to fix things. But I’ll help you find someone who can mediate. I’ll ask around. I’m pretty sure I can find some recommendations for you in LA.”
“Thank you.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “For everything. I’m sorry I—”
He kissed me gently, but firmly enough to shut me up. “You’ve already apologized.” Looking into my eyes, he smiled and brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, catching one last stray tear. “We’re okay.”
More than anything else we’d said tonight, those two words hit me in the chest. We were okay, and I was a step closer to okay with my kids. I swallowed hard—I hadn’t realized how long I’d needed for something to be okay. For some hope that my kids and I could fix things. For a relationship that wasn’t just a strained prelude to an inevitable disaster.
We were okay. Maybe that meant I could be too. Even if it wasn’t today, it was possible. At this point, that was all I could ask for.
Scott’s thumb drew another soft arc across my cheekbone, and I realized the skin was wet. Had I started tearing up again? God, I hadn’t even noticed.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I smiled, though it was as a struggle, and sniffed sharply. “Just . . . a lot to process, I guess.”
He nodded. “If you need some time, just say—”
“I need you.” I lifted my chin to kiss him. “I mean, the fact that I need help getting through this with my kids, that’s not why I wanted you to come back. But I’m . . .” I swallowed. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
He smiled, cradling my cheek as he leaned in for another soft kiss. “I understand. And I’m happy to help as much as I can.” He drew back and met my gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here too. Just . . . us. This.”
I smiled again, and it didn’t take quite so much effort this time. He returned it.
I clasped his hand between both of mine. “It might be a while down the line, but I hope you can meet them eventually. I hope . . . they want to meet you.”
Scott brought my hands up and kissed the backs of my fingers. “We’ll get there. When they’re ready, and when you are.” He laughed shyly. “Is it too soon to be a little nervous about the prospect of being a stepparent?”
The perfectly innocent question almost killed what remained of my composure. What kind of idiot had I been to let this man walk away?
“God, I love you,” I whispered and pulled him in for a longer kiss.
He curved his hand over the top of my leg. When he broke the kiss, he smiled. “I love you too. I would’ve missed out on something really special if I’d stuck to my rule against dating cops.”
“Well, we both figured it out. Better late than never, right?”
“Exactly.” He grinned. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?” Squeezing my thigh, he added, “Then we can come back here and chill for the evening.”
“I like the sound of that.”
We both rose, and as we gathered keys and wallets, my stomach was fluttering, but my heart wasn’t racing. Everything still felt up in the air in a way, but at the same time, settled. As if the chaos wasn’t quite resolved yet, but it would be.
Scott was right—it would take time to heal my family. There was a lot of anger to sort through, a lot of grudges to cut loose, but maybe now we were on a path that would get us there. And while that slow process ran its course, while I racked up frequent-flier miles between here and LA, I’d finally have a chance to really be in love with someone.
There was a lot left to work through, but a huge weight had already lifted off my shoulders.
With time, with patience, and with Scott by my side?
I had no doubt the rest would follow.
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L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut . . .
Website: www.gallagherwitt.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @GallagherWitt
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