Justin leaned close to Mandy. “How long’s he staying?”
His dad’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Until you can take care of yourself again. According to the doctor, that’s about three weeks.”
Heat spread across Justin’s neck and crept up his face. “Did you get an ear transplant? I think they got your donor mixed up with a dog.”
Mandy patted his hand. “Be nice.”
Justin scowled at his dad, then turned the scowl on her.
She huffed. “I swear, I’ve seen burn patients with better attitudes than yours.”
Justin clamped his mouth shut. He was having a hard time processing his dad’s presence and, if they were going to be one big happy family, he wanted to know why. He bit down on the desire to ask flat out and squeezed Mandy’s hand. “Make me your awesome lasagna, and I’ll settle down.”
“We’re having steak tonight,” his dad said. “I already went shopping.”
Justin’s hold on Mandy’s hand became a death grip. Not only was his dad staying with him way too long, he was going to dictate his menu?
Seeming to sense Justin’s tension, Mandy leaned into him. “He’s trying to be nice.”
“Yes, I am,” his dad said. “And I thought you liked steak.”
Mandy pursed her lips. “I’m going to have to agree with Justin. Someone switched your implant with a dog’s.”
His dad reached toward the radio and dialed for a few seconds before settling on All My Ex's Live in Texas. He turned up the volume until the music rattled the whole car. “There!” he shouted over the melody. “Now you can whisper about me all you want.”
Justin shook his head. The next three weeks were going to be interesting.
* * *
Mandy sat at Justin’s kitchen table with her laptop and clicked Post. She’d just finished her fifth blog entry. Since Justin had been laid up, and his dad was taking care of the cooking, she had more free time. In a few more days, Mitch would leave, Justin would be up and about, and it’d be business as usual. Then, she’d have to sneak in blog time.
Under her post, a comment popped up. Sandy wrote: Great insight into support groups. I’ve told a couple of gals I met at chemo about your blog. Expect more followers soon. Hugs.
Two months ago, Mandy had attended her first support group in hopes of helping women going through breast cancer. Turned out, they helped her just as much. She wanted her blog followers to understand the importance of fellowship with women who’d experienced the fear of cancer. If she’d been better informed, she’d have joined a group a long time ago.
So far, she had twenty-four followers, all women with cancer or who had loved ones suffering from the disease. It was a promising start to something she was beginning to love—sharing her story in hopes of easing other’s plights.
Mandy stretched her hands to her sides and yawned. With her blog post done, she had nothing to do all afternoon, so she headed to a job search site where she’d posted her résumé a week ago. The older she got, the more second and third shifts drained her energy. She was starting to wonder if a pediatrician’s office would make a good fit for her.
“You plan on leavin’ my boy behind?”
Mandy jumped and whirled around.
Mitch set a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I swear you walk like a cat.”
He turned a hard glare on her. “You ain’t answered my question.”
Mandy’s gaze returned to her computer while he put away the food. He was awfully protective of his son for a disappearing father. “I just want to see what’s out there. If I took another job, it’d be in town.”
“Good to know.” After he put away the last item, a head of lettuce in the crisper drawer, he pulled out two beers. He seemed to be getting very comfortable at Justin’s house.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Speaking of jobs, have you ever thought of relocating to Corpus?”
“Do you even know what I do?”
“No idea.”
He twisted the caps off the beers and placed one in front of her. “I own a fishing charter company. I run four boats.”
“Given your talents, I bet you make a fortune.”
His eyes widened for a split second, before a closed-lipped grin spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. That boy is serious about you. Where is he anyway?”
“Taking a nap.”
He sat across from her, tipped his beer, and downed half of it. When he set the bottle back on the table, he stared at her, long and hard.
Despite his focused gaze, she didn’t feel particularly uneasy. Over the last two weeks, she’d grown accustomed to his serious gazes and pinched upper lip. On most days, a sort of amicable silence hung between them and, though they didn’t talk much, it felt as if they were on the same team, striving toward a common goal—healing Justin.
His lips twitched with a half-smile. “What’re your intentions with my son?”
She laughed so hard she snorted. “Isn’t that a conversation my dad should have with him?”
“Justin’s never given much attention to girls… women, I mean… before you.”
“How would you know?”
“Just ‘cause I wasn’t around, doesn’t mean I ain’t kept tabs on him. He was focused on his job and savin’ his momma until you came along.” He pointed toward Justin’s bedroom. “That boy loves you, and Seward men don’t take relationships lightly.”
Mandy leaned back in her chair and studied the man with dark hair and Justin’s broad shoulders. She’d never expected to have such a conversation with him, but since he was opening up, she decided to take advantage. “Is that why you never left Justin’s mom?”
A shadow of pain crossed his face, and he nodded. “I don’t want you two to end up the way we did.” He fidgeted with his beer bottle, tearing the top of the label. “You know, Justin wouldn’t have told you about our heritage unless he had plans to marry you.”
Though she wasn’t blind to Justin’s feelings, hearing Mitch confirm her suspicions made her giddy with delight, not an emotion an old seafarer would find endearing. She took a swig of beer to hide her smile and grimaced as the bitter taste hit her tongue. It’d been years since she’d taken a drink of brew. She thought about slamming the bottle back on the table like his fishing buddies probably did, but that might be a bit too much camaraderie. She set it down quietly instead. “This is the most we’ve talked in the two weeks you’ve been here. What changed?”
“Yesterday, I decided I liked you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You don’t return the favor?”
She hesitated to tell him what she really thought, but since they were being open, there was no point in holding back. “You weren’t a father to Justin.”
His eyes widened as if he were surprised by her candor. “For ten years, I was a damn good father.”
“You let a tragedy get between you two. I see the torment in Justin’s eyes. He won’t talk to me about it, but he wants to be close to you. Only he’s afraid if he reaches out, you’ll bolt again.” She sighed, confused because she actually liked Mitch, and she felt guilty about it since he’d caused Justin so much pain. “I hate seeing Justin hurt because of you.”
Mitch stood and headed for the fridge, his shoulders a notch lower than before. He grabbed another beer, popped the top, and sat back down. For a moment, she thought he was preparing to explain himself. Instead, he said, “You know much about Atë?”
“As in eat?”
“No. As in the goddess Atë.”
Mandy shook her head. “What does that have to do with you and your son?”
“Everything. You see, Atë was a bitch. Is a bitch, actually. She’s still wanderin’ around, causing mischief.”
“A goddess, wandering around…” She wanted to roll her eyes, but she’d been privy to what Justin could do with water, and suddenly a tremble ran up her spine. Goddesses really did walk the earth. Freaky.
“Sisters?”
“The Litai. They follow Atë around and try to fix the damage she inflicts on mortals.”
“Okaaaay.”
“Justin ain’t told you any of this?”
“I don’t think he knows this story.”
“Well, he was nine when I told him. Since it wasn’t about sports, I doubt he paid attention.”
“Seems like it’d be hard to forget, considering how strange it is.”
Mitch folded his hands on the table as if he were morphing into a professor educating his pupil. “It gets stranger. Just guzzle more beer.”
Mandy took a swig, the libation getting more palatable with each sip, which was a blessing, because she had a feeling she was going to need a buzz to finish hearing his tale of goddesses.
When she’d downed half her beer in one gulp, Mitch continued. “Triton pissed Atë off.”
“Oh, dear.”
“He wasn’t interested in becomin’ her lover, but she wanted him, and she wasn’t givin’ up easily. In her mission to claim Triton, she discovered a way to possess his soul so that he’d be hers forever.”
“That couldn’t have ended well. What happened?”
“The Litai warned Triton. He made council with Metis, and she gave him a spell to protect himself.”
“Metis?”
“Goddess of wisdom.”
Mandy nodded. “Oh, of course.”
“Anyway, the spell she gave Triton would allow him to split his soul, but he could only house the other half in a mortal. He immediately took an Athenian lover. When she became pregnant, he split his soul in half and housed his partial spirit in his offspring. Atë can only claim Triton’s soul in its entirety, and she can’t take a soul from a mortal. As long as Triton’s descendants carry a piece of his spirit, he’s safe from Atë. But—”
“There’s always a but.”
Mitch nodded, his face grim. “Every generation, Triton has to call his soul back to himself. If he doesn’t, he begins to age. To call back his spirit, the carriers of his soul have to enter the water if they want to live.”
“The Calling.”
“Yep. Anyhow—”
Mandy held her hand up to stop him. “What constitutes a generation?”
“Every eighteen to twenty-two years, best I can tell.”
“So you have a four year window when the calling could happen?”
Mitch nodded.
“Couldn’t Triton get on a set schedule?” she asked. “It’d sure make it easier on everybody.”
“He’s a god, Mandy. They ain’t exactly bound by our ideas of passin’ time.”
“I just don’t understand why it has to be a life or death situation.”
“Because Triton can call his soul back to himself from anywhere, no matter if his descendant’s on land or in the sea. But to return it, the mortal has to be in the water.”
“And that’s why Cecilia died,” she whispered.
His eyes tensed. “Triton pulled his soul from her, but he couldn’t return it. His soul was so entwined with hers that, without it, she died.”
Mandy’s body chilled, her blood icy in her veins, as she thought of poor Cecelia. “If your wife had known, Cecelia would be alive.”
“She did know, but her family was devout. They put God above everything. If she admitted I was the offspring of a god, she’d have to deny her faith.”
Mandy wrung the life out of the bottle in her hands; anger, hot and surging, chased away her chill. His mother hadn’t known about the Calling before she’d married. She’d deserved the truth before committing to him, but Mitch hadn’t given her the option. “You shouldn’t have married her.”
“I loved her.” His face went rigid as if he were trying hard to hide his emotions. “I knew I’d never want another. I refused to give up my happiness because I was born with this curse.”
She shook her head at his selfish words. “But your wife’s happiness was taken from her because of your heritage.”
His jaw set hard. “If Cecelia hadn’t died, my family would still be intact.”
“And you blame Justin!”
“No! I never blamed him.” The hurt in his voice and the endless sadness in his brown eyes made her rushing blood still. “Everything that happened was my fault.”
“Justin thinks Cecelia died because he was weak,” she whispered, hoping a soft tone would make her words less painful. “Your silence only strengthened his guilt.”
“I don’t know—” His voice broke. “I don’t know how to fix this.” He gazed at her with pleading eyes. As much as she wanted to blame him for all of his family’s suffering, she knew no one was at fault but those damn gods.
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his, his skin rough, yet warm. “Start by telling Justin you don’t blame him.”
With a sigh, he nodded. “After his mom died, I realized I ain’t got forever. I want my son back before it’s too late.” He held Mandy’s gaze, his eyes so much like Justin’s. “I don’t want to be the granddaddy no one talks about.”
She gave him a halfhearted grin and squeezed his calloused hand. “He still cares about you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have put up with your cooking for so long.”
Mitch’s expression turned sheepish, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “The chicken fried steak was a little overdone last night.”
“Eating a tire would have been easier.” She leaned back in her chair and tipped her beer toward him. “You do grill a mean steak.”
For a long moment, they stared at one another, Mitch seeming to reach for words he couldn’t find. And then their moment of sharing was gone; she could see it in the way he dropped his eyes to his beer. “I’ll go fire up the charcoal and grill us some T-bones. Dinner’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.”
She took one last sip of beer, closed her laptop, and stood, letting the topic of reconciliation drop. Mitch would talk to Justin when he was good and ready.
“I’ll rally the troops,” she said. “That son of yours has been asleep for over two hours.”
Leaving Justin’s dad in the kitchen, she strolled down the hall and pushed open Justin’s door. She stepped inside, expecting to find him sound asleep. Instead, he lay staring at the ceiling with his cell phone clutched in his hand.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Dale called.”
He patted her side of the bed, and she slid in next to him, the crisp sheets cool against her skin. “What did he want?”
“To tell me the findings of the investigation.”
She bolted upright. “And?”
“Operator error and gross negligence.”
“They’re holding you responsible?” How could they? He’d been in the middle of a freakin’ hurricane! Justin grabbed her arm and squeezed, probably trying to calm her, but her heart pounded in her ears. She twisted the sheets in her hands. “It wasn’t your fault!”
“Not me…Ty.”
His words took a couple of seconds to sink in, but once they did, she gasped. “Ty hurt you?”
“They pieced together my account, the co-pilot’s, and Ty’s testimony. He didn’t follow procedure and knowingly placed me in a dangerous situation.”
“Do you think he did it on purpose?”
“No!” He slowly sat up, and said in a softer voice, “I mean, no. I can’t believe he’d intentionally hurt anyone.”
“He tried to convince me the accident was your fault.”
“He played the same game with the investigation team. He’s manipulative, but he wouldn’t try and get someone killed.” Justin pulled her close, nestling her head between his chin and neck. “He’s grounded and getting a transfer.”
“Seriously?” she yelped, finding it hard to control her glee.
“Yep. Not only that, but Dale said I can start light duty on Monday with a doctor’s note.”
“And Ty won’t be there
?”
“Nope.”
Besides being cancer-free, she hadn’t heard better news all year. Her tension immediately eased, and she couldn’t help but notice that Justin was shirtless, the smooth expanse of his skin beneath her palm making her tingly.
She pulled up the sheet covering his legs, peered beneath, and smiled. “Did someone forget to do your laundry?”
He chuckled. “That darn girlfriend of mine’s useless.”
She glanced at the floor and saw his boxers wadded up by the nightstand.
“I got hot,” he said.
She nuzzled the base of his neck. “Do you think we could celebrate your recovery?”
His voice lowered an octave, the way it always did when he got aroused. “You never did wear lingerie and high heels to tend to me. You could have at least gotten one of those slutty nurse uniforms.”
“You’re dad’s here, remember?” She tiptoed her fingers down the curly dark hair that disappeared beneath the sheet. “I wish we had time for a romp.”
Justin landed a kiss on her lips. “Why don’t we?” He rolled on top of her and pushed her into the pillows, the bed sucking her into its warm depths. Then, he growled a deep rumbling sound that made her vibrate in all the right places.
She giggled. “Steaks will be done in thirty minutes.”
“I only need ten.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s been a month. You’ll be lucky if I last five.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
He kissed her deeply, then she pushed against his chest and rolled on top of him, breaking their lip lock. “I’ve got a better idea.” Swiftly, she crossed the room and locked the door, then turned back to Justin, giving him her best sultry look. “There’s a lot we can do in thirty minutes,” she purred.
Justin’s lips twitched as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her words, but anticipation gleamed in his eyes when she moved to the end of the bed. Not about to disappoint him, she ran a hand up the sheet, then wrapped her fingers around the cotton and slid the fabric past his hips. His erection sprang forth, hard and ready. She fought the urge to touch him, to feel the silky skin of his shaft, and instead smiled coyly. After a month of abstinence, she wanted to light every fire in his oven, until he couldn’t even remember his own name, only hers.
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