Backwoods

by Jill Sorenson

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah.”

  “Do you think he had control over that?”

  “No.”

  “Then why were you upset by it?”

  “I...don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to let him walk all over you. Just ease up a little. He wants your attention and your acceptance, even if he won’t admit it. Give him a compliment.”

  “A compliment.”

  “You could also ask him about surfing, or his classes, but try to be positive. I see a lot of good qualities in him. He’s kind to Brooke, even when she’s annoyingly chipper. He’s brave. He cares about you.”

  Nathan studied her for a long moment. A hint of anguish glinted in his dark eyes, as if he wanted that last part to be true, but feared it wasn’t. “He doesn’t show it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sure I do. You saw that big hug I gave him at the lake.”

  She laughed softly, aware that he was making fun of himself. She liked that. His lack of ego was refreshing for a celebrated athlete. “I’m not as anxious as I thought I’d be,” she said, changing the subject.

  “It’s my calming influence.”

  She examined his rugged features in the moonlight, her stomach fluttering. If anything, he was a sexy distraction. He had a habit of touching his mouth, which drew her attention to it. The rough grain of stubble along his jaw would feel nice against her lips. He looked like a good kisser, the kind who took control and kept it. Physical contact had always comforted her. That was why she’d gotten involved with her coworker. Jeremy was handsome and eager, but bland. They’d had a passionless sexual relationship.

  Sleeping with Nathan wouldn’t be safe. It would be terrible or fantastic. Possibly both. He wasn’t a man she could use and move on from, unaffected. But after a steady diet of bland, she longed for spice. She wanted something hot and messy and emotional. An ache to remind her that she could still feel.

  She tore her gaze from his, her pulse racing. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be leaning toward him. She couldn’t afford the risk. Ray’s betrayal had sent her into a tailspin for years. She’d fought hard to regain her equilibrium after the divorce, and she’d vowed to never let a man shake her up again.

  Her heart couldn’t take another hit.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NATHAN HAD TO put some distance between him and Abby before he did something he’d regret.

  Like kissing her.

  He didn’t trust himself in her presence. He was supposed to be keeping watch, not staring at her mouth. His eyes were drawn to her fine features and the soft curves of her body. Even when he looked away, his memory supplied a detailed picture. His fingertips tingled with the desire to slip under her sweater and feel her warm, silky skin.

  Smothering a groan, he rose to his feet. He filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil. Brooke had left out the instant coffee for him, as well as cocoa and chai tea. The night air cooled his blood and cleared his head.

  Maybe she was right about his interactions with Leo. He couldn’t take the blame for all of his son’s bad behavior, but he understood cause and effect. Every time Nathan made a critical remark, Leo responded in kind, and the gulf between them widened. This method of communication wasn’t working.

  Nathan considered himself an intelligent man. Doing the same thing and expecting a different result wasn’t logical. On the other hand, strong-arm tactics had helped him get sober. His father had pushed him to improve in sports. Nathan owed it to Leo to keep trying. If he didn’t, and Leo got in serious trouble, he’d never forgive himself.

  “My dad was difficult to please,” he said. “I think I got drafted early because he pushed me so hard.”

  “You wouldn’t have done well no matter what?”

  He smiled at his own words. “I don’t know. Some kids succeed against all odds. Others fail despite enjoying every privilege.”

  “How did you succeed?”

  “Like Brooke, I had the support of a dedicated parent. My father was the one who was there in the rain, yelling at umpires and cursing my take-out slide. At least half of my ambition came from fear of disappointing him.”

  “Maybe half of your addiction, too.”

  The theory was so plausible he couldn’t believe it hadn’t crossed his mind before. He’d talked about his dad’s strong influence in therapy, but he hadn’t made the same connection. Nathan felt disloyal for considering the possibility that his old-school upbringing had done more harm than good. “I’m responsible for my addiction.”

  “I didn’t say he was responsible. I said your fear of disappointing him was a factor. It motivated you in positive and negative ways.”

  Nathan studied the dark clusters of trees in the distance, remembering one of his last conversations with his father. Although Conrad Strom didn’t believe in namby-pamby things like rehab, he’d visited Nathan there on family day. Nathan’s counselor had warned him not to let his sobriety hang on relationships. No matter what happened with his loved ones, he had to stay focused on himself. It was his only chance of survival. Once he had his addiction under control, he could work on rebuilding trust and making connections with others.

  His dad had hugged Nathan and said he was proud. It meant a lot, coming from a man whose advice for any malady was to “walk it off.” Nathan was glad his dad hadn’t considered him a failure just because he’d fallen down.

  He’d died of a heart attack six months later.

  “Every kid is different,” Abby said. “A few will succeed against all odds, like you said. Some respond well to criticism and others don’t. What helped you might not help Leo.”

  “What are you, some kind of parenting guru?”

  “No,” she said, laughing. “Part of my job at the center is to counsel residents and their families. The transition into assisted living is harder on some than others. Most families have issues with no easy resolutions. Relationships between parents and adult children are full of conflict.”

  He heard a slight hitch in her voice every time she said “family.” She was from a broken home, and she’d married young for the wrong reasons. Nathan couldn’t judge, having rushed into matrimony as a teenager, himself. But Abby’s story tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how it felt to lose everything. His anger toward Ray, which had faded over the years, flared up again. Nathan wanted to punch Ray in the gut for hurting her.

  He also wanted to show Abby a good time. Not out of pity. She looked delicious, and he’d love to have her. His desire had selfish reasons as well as altruistic ones. She seemed interested in him as a man. If she let him, he’d touch every inch of her body and kiss her for hours. He imagined stroking her to the edge of orgasm and watching her quiver with need. The idea of getting her off without taking his own pleasure appealed to him. He could almost taste her, exploding on his tongue.

  Of course, he hadn’t been with a woman in so long, he’d probably come in his pants. Just thinking about it made his cock as stiff as a bat.

  He turned to stare at the trees again, his pulse throbbing. He’d put on a pair of sweatpants over his shorts, so the layers of clothing disguised his arousal. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to pull himself together. This wasn’t the time or place for inappropriate thoughts. Abby’s teenage daughter was twenty feet away in a tent with his teenage son. Nathan couldn’t spread Abby out on a sleeping bag and dive between her legs.

  Nor would she allow him to, if he asked. Most women needed to relax to enjoy oral sex. She might take a bit more work than average to warm up, even in a private setting.

  God, that was hot. He didn’t know why, but it was.

  When he finally got his mind out of the gutter and his body under control, he noticed the water on the stove was boiling. He poured a cup of instant coffee and glanced in Abby’s direction. She wa
s curled up on her side, asleep.

  With a wry smile, he stirred his coffee. There was no need to worry about keeping his hands off her. She wasn’t panting over him or fantasizing about a naughty tryst by moonlight. He’d bored her right into dreamland. Either that or she was exhausted from the strain of the day and the difficult climb.

  His chest tightened at the sight of her peaceful slumber.

  Not wanting to disturb her, he retrieved the other sleeping pad from the tent and placed it a few feet away from her, on higher ground. Then he settled in for a long night. He had a clear view of the trail, the tents and Abby. He sipped his coffee while he kept watch, pondering her advice about Leo.

  At nineteen, Nathan hadn’t been ready for parenthood. He’d left the baby care to Lydia, sympathizing with her struggles but offering minimal help. The minor leagues were no picnic, physically and financially. His folks lived in Wisconsin, hers in Brazil. They’d had no support system. They were kids.

  In hindsight, he’d been stupid. He’d thought being madly in love meant they could take on the world and win.

  Somehow, they got through the hard times together. Or Lydia got through them by herself while Nathan traveled and trained nonstop. Moving to the majors improved their situation dramatically. Overnight, he had money and fame. New house, new cars, new outlook. For the next few years, everything he touched had turned to gold.

  Back then, Leo had been happy to see Nathan. He’d called out “Daddy, Daddy!” and hugged him as soon as he walked through the door. Nathan could still feel his son’s little arms clinging to his neck. Nathan wasn’t home enough, but when he was, he’d been affectionate. He knew he’d kept Lydia satisfied in bed. They’d been good together.

  He had regrets, of course. He could have helped her with Leo more, especially during those early years. He hadn’t been able to comfort her after the miscarriage. And his drinking, more than anything, had ruined them.

  Nathan could trace his problems with Leo back to the same source. Had he been too hard on Leo from the start? He remembered being annoyed by Leo’s crying and whining, but only because Nathan didn’t know how to calm him down. Lydia was a good mother, soft and gentle. Nathan considered it his job, as a father, to teach Leo guy stuff. He’d always felt a little guilty about Leo’s disinterest in sports. Nathan had hoped that Leo would become more competitive with age and experience. He hadn’t.

  Maybe that was why Nathan had enjoyed watching Leo so much today. While Abby cringed with worry every time Brooke jumped, Nathan had marveled at his son’s transformation. Leo had grown so much in the past few years. He seemed at ease with his body, and he was a fast swimmer. Surfing had done wonders for him.

  Nathan had accepted the fact that Leo wouldn’t follow in his footsteps and become a professional athlete. He’d given up on Leo playing a sport, period. Now the pressure was off, and Leo had found his own path.

  Maybe Nathan could ask Leo to give him a surfing lesson. It was summer. Nathan liked swimming and lounging on the beach.

  He finished his coffee and spent the next few hours planning a happier future. He knew it would be a challenge to win Leo over, but he was ready to meet it. Abby’s distanced perspective was just what he’d needed. Nathan wished he’d had the opportunity to sit down with Lydia and talk things out the same way. Their exchanges were always brief. Ray had a jealous streak, which was ironic, considering his penchant for sleeping with other women, but also understandable. Before he went to rehab, Nathan had embarrassed himself by barging in on one of their dinner parties and trying to kiss Lydia.

  He smiled again, shaking his head. What an idiot he’d been. That memory had always made him cringe. Now it struck him as funny, while the image of him stumbling around with a beer can at the tender age of twelve did not.

  In the wee hours of the morning, his eyelids grew heavy and he started to nod off. Abby made a sound in her sleep, sort of a low moan. Nathan wondered if she was having a nightmare. He was tempted to stretch out next to her and put his arm around her. Yawning, he rose to make himself a fresh cup of coffee instead.

  Leo stirred inside the tent. He unzipped the front opening and came out, shivering in his shorts and T-shirt. After he pulled on a hoodie from his backpack, he walked away from the tent and disappeared behind a tree.

  Nathan poured the hot water into a cup and added instant coffee, stirring it with a stick. Leo retrieved his sleeping bag, wearing it like a cape, and joined him.

  “I’ll have that,” he mumbled, gesturing for the coffee.

  Nathan had never seen Leo drink coffee before, just hyped-up soda and sugar-filled energy drinks. “It’s black.”

  He took a sip and made a face.

  “Add some cocoa to it,” Nathan said.

  While Leo fumbled for the cocoa packets, Abby straightened, rubbing her eyes. “Is it morning?”

  Leo checked his watch. “It’s 2:00.”

  “Why don’t you go in the tent?” Nathan said.

  “I’ll stay out here with Leo if you want to get some rest,” she said.

  Leo exchanged a hopeful glance with Nathan. He’d rather hang out with Abby, a stranger, than his own father.

  “No,” Nathan said. “We’re good.”

  She got up and walked to the tent, taking her sleeping bag with her. Leo stared at her retreating form until she ducked inside. Then he added cocoa powder to his coffee and stirred it. Nathan tried to remember the advice she’d given him.

  Compliment him.

  “You woke up,” he said, as if this was a stellar achievement.

  Leo took his coffee to the log and sat down, not responding.

  Strike one.

  Undeterred, Nathan sat next to him.

  “You can go to sleep.” Leo said. “I got this.”

  “I’ll stay awake with you.”

  Leo muttered something under his breath. Nathan couldn’t hear the comment, but that was probably for the best.

  After he got sober, Nathan had apologized to Leo for all of the wrongs he’d done. Redemption was a big part of recovery. Addicts were asked to take responsibility for their hurtful actions and make amends. Nathan had acknowledged every mistake he could think of to Leo. The long absences and bitter fights, the drunken stupors and morning hangovers.

  Leo hadn’t forgiven him anything.

  Instead of dwelling on past conflicts, Nathan reconsidered his strategy. He narrowed his focus to a recent, specific slight. “I’m sorry for telling you to pull it together in the woods.”

  Leo’s eyes widened with surprise.

  Base hit?

  Nathan cleared his throat and continued. “The deer reminded me of my dad...your grandfather.”

  “I remember. He hunted.”

  Conrad Strom had displayed his trophies. He’d also invited Leo hunting, an offer Nathan had declined. It was the only sport Nathan hadn’t encouraged his son to try. “He...hit me.”

  “Grandpa did?”

  Nathan rubbed a hand over his mouth, his stomach churning with anxiety. He’d never told anyone this before. “Not hard, or with his fists. He hit me with a belt as punishment. When I was a teenager, he’d slap my face, just lightly, if I did something stupid.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, got a bad grade or made an off throw. I hated it. I hated the insult of being slapped in the face.”

  Leo pondered this, his brow furrowed.

  “Sometimes I’m tempted to hit you the same way. I don’t know if it’s instinct or a learned reaction, but it bothers me. When we were searching the woods, I was scared and tense. That’s why I lashed out at you, not because you did anything wrong. I’m sure it felt like a slap in the face, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Leo muttered, studying the ground. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

  “That wa
s self-defense. Fair game.”

  “I didn’t know Grandpa was such a shithead.”

  Neither did Nathan. The realization was a weight off his shoulders. His dad hadn’t been perfect, and his parenting style left a lot to be desired. Nathan wasn’t sure why he’d been trying to emulate him. “I love you, Leo.”

  Leo gripped the handle of his coffee cup until his knuckles turned white. Although he didn’t respond, his eyes glittered with unshed tears.

  Nathan blinked his own tears away, clearing his throat. This was good. He’d gotten a few things off his chest. No need to ruin it by pushing his luck. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom and Ray.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ray is a dick.”

  Nathan couldn’t disagree there.

  “You’re not going to try to get back with her, are you?”

  “No,” he said, frowning. Oddly enough, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Nathan wished Lydia all the best, but he had no interest in reuniting with her. If she left Ray, he hoped she’d find someone who treated her right.

  Nathan and Leo fell into a companionable silence. It was the first they’d shared in years. Nathan didn’t mention Leo’s drug use or failing grades. He was troubled by the idea of Leo traveling abroad, but he kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t turn back the clock or change the past. He could only pray that Leo got his act together before he gained access to his trust fund. At twenty-one, he’d sink or swim.

  “I can handle this watch,” Leo said. “Go to sleep.”

  Nathan nodded, deciding to give Leo a chance to prove himself. Maybe Leo would return the favor. Instead of retreating into the tent, Nathan retrieved his sleeping bag and stretched out on the sleeping pad Abby had vacated. Here, he could wake up if there was trouble.

  Putting his faith in Leo, he cocooned himself in the sleeping bag and closed his eyes.