by Kaylee Ryan
“Are you?” he asks, giving me a knowing look.
“Yes. Now let’s go eat before Mom comes in here and hits us all over the head with a frying pan.”
“I heard that.” Mom laughs as we enter the kitchen. “Make your plates and give me that baby.” She walks over to Chase with her arms out, ready to steal Milo.
“Fine,” he grumbles, kissing my son's fuzzy head before passing him over. “Hollis, good to see you,” he greets her.
“Hi, Chase.” She gives him a kind smile.
“Colt, can you show Hollis the refrigerator in the garage where all the drinks are?”
“Follow me,” I tell Hollis. “Sorry about that. I know my family can be overwhelming.”
“Not at all. It’s obvious how close you all are.”
“It was like this all the time growing up. I was a little worried about the dynamic when I decided to leave the service. However, I should have known better. It was always fine when I was home on leave, but that’s a week or so, not permanent.”
“I can see how you would worry, but not with your family. They’re great, Colton, really.”
“What about your family? Do you have any local?”
“No. Just me.” As she says this, something flashes in her eyes. Her body language tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ll leave it alone. For now.
“What would you like to drink?” I open the refrigerator door, and as always, Mom has it stocked with anything and everything you could imagine.
“Is that bottled root beer?” She leans in to get a better look, and I get a whiff of her perfume. I can’t place it, but it smells damn good.
“Yes. Chase and I loved drinking these when we were kids. I didn’t even know they made it anymore. Want one?” I ask her, grabbing one for myself.
“Yes, please.”
I reach in and grab another before shutting the door. “After you,” I say, nodding toward the door. Everyone is standing around the island, filling their plates with Mom’s pot roast. The conversation is flowing, and it’s taking a lot of effort to keep my cool when it comes to Hollis.
“What? You didn’t get us drinks?” Chase asks.
“You’re a big boy. Besides, Mom told me to show Hollis, not to wait on you.”
“I tell you. It doesn’t matter how old they get, they still bicker like ten-year olds.” Mom smiles fondly, shaking her head.
“He started it.” Chase points to me and sticks out his tongue, making us all laugh.
“Is this what I have to look forward to?” Gabby asks.
“If you have more than one, yes,” Mom answers.
“Let’s see how we do with this one.” Gabby rubs her small baby bump, wearing a smile.
“So, Hollis, tell us about you. What do you do?” Dad asks her.
“Here we go,” I mutter. “You don’t have to answer.”
“I don’t mind. I’m in graphic design. I do websites and company branding mostly. I work independently since it’s all electronic.”
“You kids and these computers, I tell you. I can’t keep up.”
“Mom, you sound like you’re eighty,” Chase jokes.
“I can do what needs to be done, but that design stuff, I don’t know how you do it.”
“You’re not supposed to, dear. We’ll leave all that high-tech stuff to the offspring. We just need to worry about spoiling those grandbabies of ours,” Dad says.
The night couldn’t be better. Hollis fits right in as if she’s been a member of my family for a lifetime. I admit as I sit here, listening to her and Gabby talk to Mom about Gabby’s baby shower, I wonder what it would be like if she were mine. What if she was more than just a tenant or a friend? I can see us here for Mom’s monthly dinners and at home together with Milo. I can see it all, and I confess, it’s enticing.
“Thank you for tonight,” Hollis says when we are in my truck and heading home. “Your family is great.”
I glance over and catch her watching me. The cab of the truck is dark, but from the glow of the dash, I can see her smile. I can’t seem to keep my own from pulling at my lips just because she’s happy. “I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”
“You were right.”
“Wait, can you write that down for me? I might need it for future reference.”
“Oh, hush.” She pushes on my arm, and we both laugh. “Truly, you have a great family. You’re lucky to have them.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. When you’re ready to talk about yours, I’m all ears.”
“Thank you, but there’s not really much to tell.” Her reply is soft, and from my glance to the passenger seat, I know her smile has faded. Luckily, we’re at home. So I do the mature thing and pretend like I never brought it up.
“I need to get him in bed. Stick around?” I ask. “I have some beer in the fridge. I can tell you about his mom.”
“Colton, you don’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I think you’re right. It will do me some good to talk about it with someone who’s not family.” I also hope that by opening up to her, not only does she get to know me better, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll feel comfortable enough to open up to me. When she’s ready.
I grab Milo, and she takes the diaper bag. I can’t help but think that this is how life would be if I had done things in the right order. Or even had a baby momma who wanted to be a momma. I don’t hold that against Laura. In fact, I’m glad she did what she did. She got Milo to family. I don’t agree with her just leaving him on the doorstep and then driving off. How did she know Chase—or, more specifically, I—would take care of him? That part still bothers me, but the fact that she gave him up? Well, I commend her for that. If she knew without a doubt that motherhood was not for her, I think what she did was brave and selfless. It gave Milo the chance to grow up in a home where all he knows is love. I’ll make damn sure that happens.
“I’m just going to change him into some pajamas and give him a bottle. Help yourself to whatever.”
“I think I’m going to go change.”
“Okay.” I lift Milo from his seat and head to his room. In my mind, I’m picturing her stripping out of her clothes, with my help. I have to stop this. I can’t think about her getting naked, just down the hall. I also hope that whatever she decides to change into covers her. I don’t know if I have the willpower to sit next to her in some kind of skimpy lingerie. In fact, I know that I don’t.
“All right, buddy. Time for a new diaper, some jammies, and a nice big bottle. We should really take a bath tonight, but Daddy’s going to skip that.” I lay him on the changing table and get to work. “What do you think of Hollis? She’s nice, right?” He coos. “I know, and she’s beautiful.” I manage to wrangle a clean diaper on him and some pajamas. I even get them buttoned correctly on the first try. “Look at that. Daddy’s getting the hang of this,” I tell him, picking him up and kissing his cheek. “Now, time for a bottle and then lights out for you.”
“Need any help?” Hollis asks.
I look up to find her in a pair of flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and her hair is in a knot on the top of her head. No makeup, no fanfare, and I was so unbelievably wrong. She’s just as sexy in this get-up as she would be in lingerie.
I’m fucked.
“I think I’m good. Help yourself to a beer, or whatever you want. I’m just going to mix him up a bottle.”
“Do you mind if I hold him while you do that?”
“Sure.” She holds out her arms, and I pass Milo to her. His eyes are wide open as he takes her in. I can only imagine what’s going through his mind. It’s not the first time I’ve wondered if my son can understand the crazy shit I tell him each day. Only today, not so crazy, I spoke the truth. From the way he’s staring up at her, the way she’s captured his attention, I’d say it’s safe to say that my son is just as enthralled with the lovely Hollis as I am.
Like father, like
son.
Quickly, I mix up a bottle, grab a bib, and a blanket. “Thanks,” I say, reaching for my son.
“I can do it.” She reaches for the bottle.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to. Go do… dad things.” She chuckles. “Fold some laundry or take a long hot shower, or just sit and watch. I don’t mind. He’s such a cutie.” She coos that last part down to my son. He gives her a toothless grin. My boy knows how to turn on the charm.
She reaches for the bottle, bib, and blanket, and I let her take them. I watch in fascination as she heads to the couch and gets settled with Milo on her lap. She’s a natural and looks as though she’s done this countless times.
“You look like you’ve had some practice,” I say, both hands braced on the island as I look toward where she’s sitting in the living.
“A little. I did some babysitting in high school.”
“Thank you.” I nod toward her and my son.
“Go. Find something to do that you don’t usually have time to do or sit down. You’re making me nervous. I promise he’s in good hands.”
“Right. I’m going. I do have about three loads of laundry to fold and put away.”
“Good. Go. We’re just fine.”
I watch them for a little while longer before heading to my room to fold the mountain of laundry I’ve not gotten around to folding. Once that’s done, I change the sheets on my bed and decide to do the same to Milo’s. That’s where Hollis finds me.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hi. Looks like you have the magic touch.”
“He’s in a food coma.” She laughs softly.
“I’m almost done putting a new sheet on his bed.” I finish what I’m doing and turn to face her.
“Just lay him down?”
“Yes.” Carefully, she places my son in his crib. Then, she does something that knocks the wind from my chest. I watch her as she kisses her index and middle fingers, then softly presses them to his forehead.
“Sweet dreams, sweet boy,” she says, her voice soft and gentle.
I have to push my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep from kissing her. The urge is strong, but I fight it. Instead, I step up to the crib and lean over, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Love you, son.” When I stand back up, she’s there. Right there. We stare at each other, a current passing between us. Neither of us willing to move in fear of breaking the connection.
“I think I’ll take that beer now,” she says and rushes from the room.
I count to ten, and then twenty, then thirty before I leave the room and follow after her. I find her in the kitchen with two beers, one in each hand. She hands me one and takes a long pull from the other. She grimaces.
“I’m not much of a beer drinker,” she confesses.
“No? What’s your drink of choice?” I ask, taking a sip of my own. I move to the living room, hoping she’ll follow me. I’m not disappointed when she takes the seat on the opposite end of the couch. Not close enough, but she’s not hidden behind her door either, so I’ll take what I can get.
“Fruity. I prefer to not taste the alcohol.”
“Got it.” She smiles, and I don’t want things to grow awkward, so I begin. “I enlisted in the Army when I was eighteen. I was young and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I didn’t want to go to college, that just wasn’t for me. So, when a recruiter came to my high school and talked to my senior class, it just felt right. I enlisted. My parents, although worried, supported me. Turns out, I loved it. I was good at it, and I met my brothers-in-arms. Those are relationships I will never forget.”
“That had to be hard being away from your family.”
“It was, but as time went on, it became my normal. I found out that I loved the Army. It gave me a sense of pride fighting for my country.”
“It’s very honorable.”
I nod. Her praise warms something inside me. “Anyway, I would come home on leave. Most of the time, for a couple of weeks, max. My last leave of absence, Chase and I met up, and we pretty much got hammered. I lost track of the number of shots and drinks we had. It wasn’t something we often did, but I was going away for at least nine months, so we made the best of our last night together.”
“No judgment zone, Colton. We’ve all done things we regret.”
“Yeah, but I can’t regret that night. It gave me Milo.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
I go on to tell her how I told Laura that my name was Chase. I don’t stop until we get to the present. Me being a single father to a little boy whose mother signed her rights away to him.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, so now you know.”
“You’re a good man, Colton Callahan.”
“He’s my son. There is no other option but for me to try and be both mom and dad for him, and love him unconditionally.”
“Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with your past.”
“I’m not going to push you, but I want you to know that you can trust me.”
She gives me a weak smile. “It’s late. I should get to bed.” She stands, and downs the rest of her beer, with yet another grimace. “That is truly awful.”
“You didn’t have to finish it.”
“Isn’t that alcohol abuse?” she asks with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
“That it is, Hollis. That it is. Thank you for tonight. For putting up with my crazy family, your help with Milo, and listening.”
“Anytime. Goodnight, Colton.” She stops in the kitchen and tosses her bottle in the trash, then disappears into the laundry room.
I stare after her long after she’s gone. I’m disappointed our night was cut short. I could have spent the entire night talking to her. I don’t want to push her, but I want to know her. It’s more of a need at this point. I want to know what makes her who she is. I spent my entire adult life in the Army. We strive for discipline and patience. Let’s just hope I still have that skill set in me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t fight it.
Hollis Taylor is quickly becoming my addiction.
Chapter 6
Hollis
I keep myself busy, submerging myself in my work throughout the next few days, even though I can hear Colton and Milo move around on the other side of the wall. The rest of his furniture was delivered Monday, and he stayed home that morning to oversee the job. His place is now equipped with a complete living room, kitchen, and bedroom furniture, as well as a few more things for Milo. This place is really starting to look like a home.
Even though we’re two separate homes.
The temperatures are starting to dip, and now I see the disadvantage of moving to the Midwest. Southern California left my skin tanned and thin to the elements, not really prepared for what November in Missouri brings.
First stop today: the strip mall for some warmer clothes.
I hop into my car, noting Colton is already gone for the day. He usually takes off around seven, dropping Milo off at Gabby’s sister’s house before heading to work. I’ve heard a lot about the gym in the last week, especially from Gabby. She talked to her boss, Harrison, who’s married to her sister, Gwen, and he’s agreed to update the website. I sent him a mock-up of a new site yesterday but haven’t heard back yet. The wait is killing me.
The first place I stop is a boutique for women. The lady behind the counter greets me the second I walk through the door, asking if she can be of any assistance. “I’m just looking,” I tell her as I glance around the store.
I’m not really a big fan of shopping. I never have been one of those girls who likes to browse and try on everything and anything. I’m more practical. Come in, get what you need, and get out before the credit card starts to smoke. Fortunately, I don’t need much today. A few sweaters to go with my leggings and jeans, a coat and gloves, and maybe a pair of warmer boots since my ballet flats probably aren’t going to cut it in the Missouri winter.
I head over
to a display of sweaters and check the price. They’re a little higher than I’d like to spend, but this is a small, locally owned boutique. I decide I can spend a little extra on a sweater here and find one in a soft blue and gray. The material is thick, promising to keep me toasty this winter, so I find my size and decide to buy it. I glance around a little more, finding all sorts of cute items that would look great paired with skinny jeans or leggings. I promise myself I’ll come back when the budget allows a little more wiggle room for clothing expenses. Right now, I need to stick to the basics until another job or two comes my way.
As I head to the register, I come across a display of gloves and scarves. My eyes immediately fall on a set of black and gray mittens, hat, and scarf. A smile falls on my lips as I think about my grandma and all the times I found her knitting or crocheting. Of course, when I was younger, I didn’t find it cool to wear a handmade hat or scarf, but now? I’d give anything to have something handmade with her love in every stitch.
“Those are made by Estelle Brown. She spends all of her time knitting those items and even infant hats that she donates to the local hospital maternity ward,” the lady states as I gaze at the big display of warmth.
When I spy the price tag, I gasp. “These are really underpriced,” I tell her, shocked by the low number on the tag.
The lady laughs. “Tell me about it. I’ve tried to get her to raise her prices, but she refuses. Estelle says everyone who needs them shouldn’t have to pay an arm and a leg to get them. She doesn’t charge for her time to make them. That covers the material and what little markup we have to sell them on her behalf.”
Another smile spreads across my lips as I add the hat, gloves, and scarf set to my small stack of purchases, as well as a second pair of red and navy gloves. Placing my items on the counter, I grab my wallet and pull out some cash. I don’t use my debit card unless I have to. I’ve found that having a set amount of cash is a great way to keep me on task and on budget.
“Forty-five sixteen,” she says as I hand her a few bills to cover my total. Today’s purchases definitely took a chunk out of my planned spending, but that’s okay. It was worth it. “Thank you,” she adds as she hands me my bag. “Stop by again soon!”