Second Chance Guy

by Marsh, Nicola

She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze fixed firmly on his chest and he tipped her chin up, the gold flecks in her eyes sparking familiar amber fire as he scrutinized her, looking for answers, searching for an explanation that would ease the bitterness gripping him.

  He didn’t want to hate her, didn’t want to blame her, but as he caught sight of his son running toward them, he came close to both.

  * * *

  Lori couldn’t move, the shock of the last ten minutes rendering her powerless to do anything but stand and take whatever Flynn dished out.

  She deserved it, all of it, for the moment he’d laid eyes on Adam and learned the truth, every logical, sane reason she’d used to justify her silence blew sky-high.

  Pain, raw and undiluted, had twisted his stoic mask into one of devastation.

  And she was responsible.

  Biting the inside of her cheek to stop from blubbering, she scrambled in her handbag for a pen and paper and scribbled down her details.

  “You can reach me on any of those numbers.”

  He took the piece of paper, glanced at it. “You still live on Riversdale Drive?”

  She nodded. “But not at Dad’s place. He bought the cottage up the road for us after I...”

  “Got knocked up? By me?” He spat the final word and she’d bet a brave, honorable guy like him wished he’d been the one to buy them a place.

  But that’s exactly why she hadn’t told him, had known he’d want to do the “right” thing and no way would she have let him sacrifice his dream out of obligation.

  For that’s what it would’ve been. If he hadn’t wanted to stick around for her, there wasn’t a hope in Hades she would’ve used her unborn child as a means to make him choose between the life she wanted and the life he’d planned.

  “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She laid a comforting hand on his forearm, snatching it away as he glanced at it in disgust, like nothing she did would make up for what she’d done.

  Not that she had any intention of making up for anything. She had her reasons for not telling him about Adam, letting him follow his dream only one of them.

  Now that he knew about Adam she’d deal with it, just like she’d had to deal with being shoved from town to town as a child, living transiently at a military base before moving on way too soon, the early death of her mother, and the regimented upbringing by a father who cared more if her shoes were polished than about giving his only child a hug. His death shortly after Adam’s birth had been a guilty relief.

  “Here’s your jacket, Mom.” Adam skidded to a stop in front of her, his guileless expression endearingly familiar and it took all her willpower not to bundle him into her arms, hold on tight and never let go. She would do whatever it took to shelter him from whatever decisions his parents made that would impact his future.

  “Thanks for getting my jacket, kiddo—”

  “Do we have time for a milkshake on the way home?” Adam’s curious gaze swung between her and Flynn. “You wanna come, Flynn?”

  Just freaking great. She slung a protective arm across Adam’s shoulders. The last thing she needed was Flynn joining them for anything. She needed time; time to process everything, time to deal with his reappearance in her life.

  Adam gazed up at Flynn with wide eyes, an imploring tactic she knew all too well. When Flynn’s expression instantly softened, she had her answer as to whether he’d want any involvement with their son.

  “Sorry, mate. I’ve got an appointment. Maybe some other time?” Flynn ruffled Adam’s hair and she waited for her son to bristle. He hated people doing that, believing it was an action reserved for preschoolers.

  To her amazement, Adam smiled. “Cool.” He turned to her and she quickly masked her surprise. “I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his tousled head, prepared for the wrinkled nose and roll of the eyes. Her baby was growing up way too fast and she would hate the day when he deemed himself too old for his mom’s kisses.

  “Hop in the car and we’ll get going.”

  “Okay. See ya, Flynn.” Adam waved as he ducked into the car, clambered into the car seat and belted in. She loved his independence, was beyond proud. They were a good family unit, and she hoped to God the man in front of her wasn’t about to change all that.

  “You’ve done a great job raising our son,” Flynn murmured, the unexpected tenderness in his voice bringing a lump to her throat.

  “Thanks.”

  Our son.

  Those two tiny words affected her almost as much as the emotion in his voice and she hugged her middle, desperate for her arms to hold onto something other than him.

  Time stopped as they stared at each other, lost in a moment laden with sentiment.

  “Hurry up, Mom. I need food now,” Adam yelled out the window, and if he hadn’t disrupted them, she didn’t know what she might’ve foolishly done.

  If Flynn had flinched at a touch on the forearm, she would hazard a guess his reaction to a hug wouldn’t be welcoming.

  “I better go,” she said, reaching for the car door.

  “I want answers and I’ll get them, Lori, that’s a promise.”

  His grave tone sent a shiver of foreboding rippling across her skin, raising her hackles.

  Adam’s home life was stable and she wanted to keep it that way. What answers could she possible give to erase the audible bitterness clouding Flynn’s growled warning?

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Her subtle head jerk toward the car, where Adam was peering out the window, had its desired affect when he nodded and stepped away.

  “Best we leave it ’til then. I’m too damn angry to even look at you right now.”

  He ran a hand across the back of his neck, absentmindedly rubbing the corded muscles that stood out like a beacon to his fury. “Tomorrow, I’ll be damned sure to get answers so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Her heart dropped into free-fall as he strode away, his threat ringing ominously in her ears.

  * * *

  As Flynn pulled into Riversdale Drive, a host of memories assailed him, none of them pleasant.

  He remembered the first time he’d come here, buoyed by the prospect of seeing where Lori lived. His mates had scoffed at their burgeoning friendship, saying Lori was slumming it, toying with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks. He hadn’t cared, for there was nothing false or contrived about Lori and their shared feelings. Though they’d both been young, they’d shared a bond that far surpassed their years and he’d assumed they’d spend the rest of their lives together.

  Until he’d finished high school, foregone his dream to pursue an economics degree to don an army uniform to pay his dues with an already ailing Pop, and she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him.

  As he drove along the tree-lined road, he passed the Ballantine mansion. Not much had changed: the sprawling grounds maintained to magazine-style perfection, the two story cream-rendered house in pristine condition, the adjoining garage large enough to house luxury vehicles to rival any royal collection.

  No doubt about it, Colonel Ballantine had liked the finer things in life, which made Lori’s apparent abhorrence of the cushy life even more unusual. He’d assumed she’d been rebelling like any other teenager not wanting to discuss her family, and it had taken an impromptu visit here to ram home the yawning differences between them.

  He hadn’t given a damn. At the time he’d been so smitten he would’ve done anything to maintain their relationship. Even after he’d joined the ADFA and she’d virtually dumped him, he hadn’t quit. Not in his nature: then, now, ever.

  He’d been away four years, following a dream that had more to do with repaying debts than a love of the military and it had taken his impending departure for the front line for Lori to see him again.

  The memory of that night had sustained him through hunkering down in damp ditches waiting for the enemy to pass, had given him courage to confront hostiles and raid their weapon base, had len
t him the impetus to attend rehab every day when he’d taken a stray bullet in the leg and to sit through endless debriefing sessions with psychologists.

  Lori may have walked away from him that night but the special memory had lingered through the dreariness, the mundane, the horror. Inadvertently, she’d done him a favor, making his last memory of Melbourne an incredible one.

  Now here he was, the memory he’d harbored and the reality as far apart as this quiet leafy street and the ravaged bunkers in Afghanistan.

  His hands clenched the steering wheel as he pulled over in front of the house number she’d given him, unable to control the renewed surge of anger sweeping through him, destroying his good memories, leaving a bitterness in its wake he feared he’d never eradicate.

  He had a son.

  She hadn’t told him.

  Would anything she said tonight change that?

  Unlikely, but he needed to hear something, anything, that would explain why the woman he’d once loved had denied him parental rights.

  Slamming a hand against the steering wheel, he studied the house, surprised by its modesty: a small clinker brick cottage with decaying wooden frames and a faded terracotta roof, surrounded by a large overgrown garden.

  When she’d mentioned the Colonel had bought it he’d expected a mini-palace to rival the mansion up the road, not this...this...home.

  Another stab of animosity lanced his gut. He should’ve been the one to provide a home for his son, a place to return to, a house filled with light and laughter, a garden just like this one, with a tire hanging from a rope attached to an old oak tree, a scooter lying on its side in the grass, a bike propped up near the door.

  As a kid, this would’ve been his dream home. Then again, anything would’ve been better than the two-room hovel he’d called home. Not that the decaying house had been a problem as such. It was what occurred within its walls that drove him to be the man he was today.

  Ironic, he’d only joined the army to pay Pop back for leaving it to raise him and as a result, the army had been the only real home he’d ever known. But he couldn’t think about the past now, couldn’t allow old memories to taint what he’d come to do.

  He needed answers.

  Lori sure as hell better give them to him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You look cool, Mom.”

  Adam lay on Lori’s bed and rested his chin in his hands, staring at her like he’d never seen her wear a dress or makeup before. Which was true, most of the time.

  “Don’t you mean hot?” She slicked a sheer gloss over her lips, her hands shaking with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

  “Gross.” Adam rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed by her teasing.

  “Glad you approve.” She twirled in front of her son, feeling beyond foolish she’d gone to this much trouble.

  But she’d needed to dress up, needed to feel confident with what she had to face. Flynn was furious with her and while she couldn’t blame him, she hoped he’d hear her out.

  Smoothing nervous hands down the plum jersey dress, she wished she had more time: more time to gather her thoughts, more time to find the right words to explain what she’d done and why, more time to come to terms with the fact she’d have to tell Adam about Flynn.

  Adam sat up, his solemn expression startling her. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, sweetheart.”

  A sliver of unease wormed its way into her soul. Adam’s nose crinkled and his forehead puckered as he nibbled on his bottom lip. Whatever he was going to ask her would be one of his usual doozy questions, ranking right up there with how dogs have puppies and how is God real if we can’t see him.

  “Is Flynn my dad?”

  Lori gaped, momentarily speechless as her initial unease exploded into unadulterated panic.

  She wasn’t ready to have this conversation with her son, the words she needed to say bubbling up in her throat only to stick there.

  Adam rushed on before she could find the right words, whatever they were. “I just wondered, that’s all. He has the same eyes as me and he looked at me real funny at school yesterday. Though don’t worry, it’s cool. He seems okay for a grown-up.” Adam plucked at the edge of the duvet. “Do you think he’ll stay long? Do you think he’ll go out with us for a milkshake? Do you think he likes me?”

  Lori’s heart ached at the earnest, wistful expression on her son’s face. She would love to answer all his questions but it was impossible considering she didn’t know the correct response to half those questions herself.

  She sat on the bed and reached for Adam’s small hand, giving it an extra squeeze for reassurance.

  “You’re very clever, sweetheart. Yeah, Flynn is your dad.” She paused, and swallowed the lump of emotion clogging her throat. “Remember I said your dad had a very important job overseas and I couldn’t contact him? Well, that’s the reason I couldn’t tell him about you.”

  Adam’s wide-eyed stare as he hung on her every word tugged at her heart.

  She placed a kiss on the back of his hand. “He’s a nice guy and I think he’s going to love getting to know you.”

  “Really?”

  Adam’s gray eyes, so like his father’s, filled with tears and she scooped him onto her lap and hugged him tightly.

  His off-the-scale IQ and astounding perception fooled her into thinking he was way older than his five years at times, and then something as simple as his tears would give her a much-needed wake-up call.

  “Sure thing, little man. How could he not want to hang out with you?”

  She kissed the top of his head, praying she was right. She had no idea how far Flynn wanted to take the relationship with his son. And if he did, what would that mean for her?

  She should’ve told Adam about Flynn a long time ago. It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked and she’d basically stuck to the truth, that he had an important job overseas and she’d lost contact and didn’t know where he was. Thankfully, Adam hadn’t pushed it, though now Flynn was back in their lives, had she done the right thing in relegating him to the past?

  She had her reasons for keeping silent, solid reasons aimed at protecting the most important person in her life—Adam. But would Flynn see it that way?

  The doorbell sounded and Adam wriggled out of her arms and ran out of the room before she could stand. She followed at a more sedate pace, fiddling with her hair, twisting her hands before making a conscious effort to cool it.

  Adam wrenched open the door. “Hi, Flynn. Mom and I had a chat. She told me who you are and everything. Can I call you Dad?”

  Lori held her breath, praying Flynn wouldn’t break Adam’s heart as he had hers all those years ago.

  To give Flynn credit he recovered a lot quicker than she would’ve done in the same circumstances.

  He squatted to Adam’s eye level and held out his hand. “I’d really like that.”

  “Cool,” Adam said, ignoring Flynn’s outstretched hand and flinging his arms around his father’s neck.

  Lori blinked back tears as her gaze locked with Flynn’s over the top of their son’s head. She silently willed him to understand, to forgive her, but she could read little in his steely gray eyes before he quickly lowered his gaze.

  Flynn wrapped his arms around his son for the first time, desperately hoping he wouldn’t blubber.

  With Adam hanging onto his neck for dear life, a chaotic jumble of emotion burst within him: fear he wasn’t cut out for fatherhood, pride this refreshingly honest child was his and love for this little person who was a part of him.

  The fact that Lori stared at him with tears shimmering in her beautiful hazel eyes didn’t help matters one bit.

  “Yeah, it’s cool.” Flynn snuggled into his son’s neck, savoring the fresh scent of lemon soap and shampoo indicating Adam had just had a bath. He imprinted the smell on his memory, wondering if this would be the first of many experiences he’d get to share with his son.

  Adam pulled away as if embarrassed by the
sudden display of affection and gestured at Lori. “What do you think of Mom’s dress? And she never wears that gunk on her face. She put it on especially for you.”

  Flynn almost grinned at Lori’s horrified expression, the first time he’d felt like smiling all day.

  “Your mom looks lovely, even the gunk.”

  “Okay, see ya later.” Adam picked up a backpack and ran across the yard to the neighbor without a backward glance.

  An attractive young woman stood on the porch next door and waved to them as Adam bowled past her into the house.

  “Thanks, Jane,” Lori called out. “We won’t be too late.”

  “Take your time,” Jane yelled across the yard before following Adam inside.

  “She seems nice,” Flynn volunteered, with every intention of making this evening longer than Lori anticipated.

  He wanted answers and if it took all damn night, he’d get them.

  “She is. She went to my high school, a year above me, so we kinda knew each other before she moved in. Plus her son’s Adam’s age so it works out well. We do reciprocal baby-sitting,” Lori babbled, her nerves obvious.

  Flynn could’ve skirted around the issue of Adam, or waited until they’d got in the car, even held his tongue until dinner. However, he’d always been a straight shooter and Lori knew it.

  “I’m surprised you told Adam about me.”

  Her startled gaze flew to his. “I didn’t have a choice. He guessed.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  A tiny, proud smile playing about her glossed mouth. “He’s super intelligent, high IQ for his age. Gifted, I guess, though I hate labeling kids that way. He basically bailed me up when I was getting ready, told me he knew you were his dad.”

  “That’s one smart kid.” He skimmed a hand over his hair before stuffing it into his jacket pocket, hating how he hadn’t conquered the habit after all these years.

  So his kid was a genius. Made it all the harder, for if he stuffed up this fatherhood gig, a good chance his son would see right through him.