Taking a Chance on the Single Dad

by Sue MacKay

  ‘Coming, son.’ Hunter glared at her as he snatched up his trousers and stepped into them. ‘This is why I have no intention of getting into a permanent relationship.’

  ‘I didn’t wake him by yelling the roof down,’ Brenna said as she hauled her jersey over her head. ‘I don’t want to upset Dylan either.’

  ‘Then stay away from us.’ He swung the door wide and scooped Dylan up in his arms. ‘My boy’s a sucker for love, needs someone to focus on him, and that can’t be a woman who might not come home at the end of the day.’ If Hunter had yelled that at her she might’ve been able to absorb it without wanting to break down and cry, to beg to be given another chance. But he spoke softly, without menace or emotion, without kindness or anything close to the love she felt for him, just putting his opinion out there for her to know. Because Dylan’s mother hadn’t come home from that accident.

  She spun away, swiped a hand across her eyes and turned back. ‘For the record, I am leading my own life, and don’t need anyone stepping in to tell me to do otherwise. I don’t push too far, but neither am I going wrap myself in cotton wool.’

  ‘Guess we know where we stand, then.’ Hunter stalked out of his bedroom, Dylan wrapped in his arms.

  Better now than later; though, in reality, it was already too late for her. Now she’d have to start over, putting her heart back together, piece by piece.

  As she walked—not ran because that would show Hunter how distressed she was—down the hall a phone rang.

  ‘Hello, Mum. This is a bit late for you to be calling. What’s up?’ Hunter’s tone sounded light but when Brenna glanced over her shoulder the tension was obvious in his tight shoulders and the hand gripping the phone to his ear. Because of her or his mother, who could say?

  Did she stay to see if he needed comfort or help if something was wrong back in Kamloops? One look at his eyes told her ‘not wanted’. She went into Dylan’s room to wake a reluctant Poppy and, hand on collar, headed for the front door.

  ‘How bad are his injuries?’ Worry inflected Hunter’s question.

  Again, she faltered.

  Then, ‘His shoulder’s broken. That’s going to take some time to heal.’ Hunter’s voice faded as he entered the sitting room.

  The front door shut behind her with an abrupt click, like even the house wanted shot of her. Loneliness rose, filled her, making her eyes water. Which was ridiculous. She had her mum and her sisters, girlfriends who were always at the end of a phone, workmates to share time out with, the cycling gang. She was not lonely, not by any standards. A head nudged at her thigh, thankfully not the bruised one, and she gave Poppy a pat. ‘Yes, and then there’s you, my girl.’ My dog, not my child.

  I don’t have a soul mate.

  Brenna turned to look back at the house. Hunter stood behind the window, still talking on the phone, Dylan still tucked against his chest, his gaze fixed doggedly somewhere to the right of the path she was on, staring unseeingly at something she had no idea about. She knew it wasn’t her.

  Forgotten already.

  Yet again supplanted by his parents.

  She was better off without Hunter back in her life. No expectations to get blitzed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  POPPY HAD TO be pushed into the car.

  ‘I’ll drive slowly, promise.’

  When the engine failed to turn over first time, bile soaked her mouth. ‘You might be in luck, Pops. We could be walking home yet.’ Going back inside to ask Hunter for help would be embarrassing. He’d probably deny he had a starter pack.

  No, he wouldn’t. He was better than that. He cared about people, didn’t like to see anyone in trouble. But he might tonight. With her anyway. They’d pushed each other’s buttons too hard. This time they’d gone way past the point of no return. Any chance of reconciling had evaporated. She’d been kidding herself to think they might get back together.

  Please, start. Please. I’ll get you serviced this week. I promise.

  It was long overdue. The ignition turned and the engine spluttered to life. Thank goodness for small wonders. She drove away, in a hurry to get home and hide out in her space. She’d go online and book the car into the service station for Friday. Might even take a look at the photos that were her life to remind herself why she participated in some of the adventures that filled her weekends.

  Poppy whined.

  Oh, hell. Lifting her foot from the accelerator, she let the car slow to ten kilometres an hour and reached across to rub Poppy’s head. ‘Sorry, girl. Got a lot on my mind. I’ve gone and stuffed up with Hunter.’

  Mum would add ‘again’ to that sentence if she were within hearing distance.

  Apparently, I didn’t try hard enough to keep Hunter in my life last time.

  Was she trying now? Or driving away without having a deep and necessary conversation with him?

  The thing was, even if Maxine Ford hadn’t rung, tonight hadn’t been the time to sit and talk it out. They had both been angry. She was hurting, and she didn’t mean her bruised muscles. Who knew if Hunter ached for what they might’ve had or could have? Things would be calmer in the morning. Not that they’d be talking about the deep and personal, but they could work at smiling and making coffee for each other on base.

  It didn’t work out like that.

  ‘Hunter’s not coming in today, and probably not tomorrow,’ Kevin told her the moment she walked into the hangar. ‘You’ll have to put up with me.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ she told him as disbelief welled. He was avoiding her? Or worse. Something horribly wrong had happened? ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘Only that someone’s sick. I didn’t think I had the right to ask for a full explanation since he has stepped up to help us out when he’s obviously got a lot going on.’

  Not again. His mother phones and he disappears. Thank goodness they hadn’t got too far down the track of re-establishing their relationship, then. If that had been on the cards, and after last night she really doubted it. ‘I’ll put the coffee on.’

  ‘Problem?’ Kevin asked in a quieter tone. She’d forgotten this man rarely missed a thing when it came to his crews and their emotions.

  ‘Nothing I can’t deal with.’ She found him a smile to show she was all right. On the outside, anyway. But when she put her bag in her locker, she found herself waiting to hear the gravelly laugh that was Hunter. Leaning her head against the locker door, she drew in some deep breaths and waited for her stomach to settle. It was going to be a long week. First there were the days Hunter wasn’t here and she’d be fighting this intense yearning to hear him, work with him, laugh and share breakfast at midday. Then he’d be back, and she’d actually have to work with him, while denying her feelings were out of control.

  Brenna got lucky.

  On Tuesday night, as she trudged through the hangar to head home after a gruelling callout where a six-year-old girl had suffered severe injuries from being repeatedly hit over the head with a hockey stick by a seven-year-old boy, Kevin called out from his office. ‘Got a minute?’

  How many did he want? She had plenty to spare. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Like a drink? I think we deserve it after that. Hell, how can a child do that to another?’

  ‘I’d love one.’ Brenna sank into the chair in the corner and crossed her legs. ‘The police and the welfare services have got their hands full. What if Ebony doesn’t survive? It’s not as though a seven-year-old can be prosecuted for manslaughter. Or murder.’ They’d been to the rougher neighbourhood of the city, but no one could’ve predicted what they’d seen. Ebony’s mother had been beside herself with fear and tearing up the street after the boy’s parents, ready to kill them if she got her hands on them.

  ‘We did everything we could. Focus on that. There’s no understanding what some people will do, and I’ve learned not to try and figure it all out. Only gets me wound up and
doesn’t solve a thing.’

  She took the glass he handed her and gave him a small smile. ‘You’re being very wise tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ He looked as tired as she felt. Problems in his camp too?

  ‘You okay?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘I’m fine.’ He didn’t sound it, but Brenna recognised the stop sign.

  Sipping her drink, she changed the subject. ‘How’s Patch? I haven’t spoken to him for a few days.’

  ‘Fed up with being stuck at home. I’m thinking he could come in and do some of the desk work while I cover the callouts. I’ll give him a buzz before I head home.’

  ‘So next week I’ll be working with you?’ Giving him an eye roll she added, ‘Guess I can handle that.’

  ‘Actually, I’ll be with you for the rest of this week too. Hunter’s not coming back.’

  ‘Oh.’ The drink sloshed in her stomach. Not coming back to the rescue base? Or not coming back to Vancouver? Not that she’d established he’d left the city to race across to the Okanagan, but why else had he not come into work?

  ‘You two have quite a history, don’t you?’ When she didn’t answer, Kevin added, ‘It’s been impossible not to hear you talking about your past.’

  It wasn’t as though they’d tried to hide it. ‘We were together three years, and talking about getting married, then life got in the way and we went in separate directions.’ Put like that, it sounded so uncomplicated, as though neither them had cared too much, hadn’t felt devastated and broken.

  ‘What were the chances Hunter would be the man I hired to cover for Patch, hmm?’

  ‘Took me by surprise.’ And some. ‘But he would’ve eventually got in touch, so you were only fast-forwarding our reunion.’ Now it seemed the finale had come about equally fast. Not that she knew for certain Hunter had headed back east, but a lot of words had been spoken on Sunday that wouldn’t be easy to forget. She was working on it, but now she had to factor in that Hunter wasn’t returning to work here, and that felt like the final straw. Downing the last of her drink, she stood up. ‘I’d better get cracking. Poppy will be chewing at the wire of her cage if I don’t take her for a walk soon.’

  Kevin was studying her as she moved to the doorway. ‘I don’t know what went down to break you two up but be patient, Brenna. He’s a good man, and you’re not so bad yourself.’

  ‘Thanks, I think.’

  Her heart lifted a little. Glad someone believes in me.

  Hunter’s comments about her reckless antics had stung. She did push the limits but she also did everything possible to be careful. No racing downhill over rocky terrain with the guys. No skiing off cliff edges to hopefully land on soft snow several feet below. Semi-fast and sedate was her approach to things. Even Hunter, if these past days were anything to go by. But playing safe was all very well. She did not want to reach seventy without having had some adventures, and for her those were not turning out to be the happy family variety.

  So she’d replaced those dreams with ones of seeing amazing locations and getting dirty in them. Not the same as waking up to a four-year-old’s cute smile or reading a bedtime story, or snuggling up to a man she loved, but better than knitting scarves for the old people’s home. She’d get around to doing that in her twilight years. ‘See you in the morning.’

  She was aiming for seventy now? At least she was being positive about something.

  * * *

  Brenna fastened her helmet under her chin and looked around. ‘This is going to be epic.’

  ‘I reckon,’ one of the cyclists with whom she’d driven across to Squamish agreed.

  ‘For once there’s no rain in sight,’ she said.

  ‘Tempting fate,’ someone warned.

  ‘True.’ Brenna couldn’t wait to get on the track and feel the air in her face. Her bruises had gone, and two weeks of all work and no play had made her stir-crazy. Being between summer and winter, none of the sports teams she worked with needed a photographer as they were either winding down and putting their skis and hockey sticks away or shaking off the winter blues and getting out the softballs and bats, or sailboards. She was temporarily redundant—and restless as hell. She’d even given the house a floor-to-ceiling spring clean and packed up junk from the cupboards and taken it to the recycling centre, where hopefully they’d make a few dollars for charity.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ one of her friends said.

  ‘Before I jinx it any more.’ Brenna grinned as she swung a leg over her bike. The bruising from her small crash two weeks ago was gone and her body was ready for some strenuous exercise. Hopefully it would shut her mind down for a while. Nothing else had worked.

  She focused on the rough track, glad that for once she wasn’t pedalling through thick mud. It meant she could go faster with less risk of the front wheel not going in the direction she wanted.

  It was smoother riding than she’d had in a while and soon her mind was wandering again. The other night, exhausted from sleepless night after sleepless night, she’d gone through her wardrobe and tossed out a huge pile of clothes that she’d hardly ever worn. Then she’d started on the shoes but had quickly stopped. Blouses and trousers were one thing, giving away her heels was quite another.

  To stop pacing around the house looking for something to prevent herself phoning Hunter and begging for another chance, she’d gone online to look up what the house over the road was on the market for and got a shock. Prices must’ve skyrocketed since she’d bought the house from the family. What would she get for it? Comparing rating valuations with other houses in the street, and especially the one on the market, showed she’d done well in the last three years.

  So what? She wasn’t going to sell. Not the house she’d grown up in. There were too many memories she couldn’t walk away from. Though it might be time to do that. How long should she hang onto the past? But her father had been her rock, and she still needed something to anchor to, and the best she could find was this house.

  The bike bounced over rocks and roots, settled back into a comfortable rhythm. Brenna grinned. Ahead the rest of the group were racing downhill, shouting with glee. This was fun, letting rip, and putting aside the horrors and sadness of her everyday job.

  Then the others were slowing. Braking, she slowly joined them. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Looks like someone’s come off.’

  Brenna stretched her neck to look past her friends. A cyclist lay sprawled at an odd angle over the track and another knelt next to him, a phone in his hand. ‘We might need to put our doctor’s hats on. That doesn’t look good.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Bikes were set aside as Brenna and Ash removed their helmets before approaching. ‘Hi. We’re doctors. Can we help?’ said Ash.

  ‘Thank goodness.’ The man stood up and stepped aside. ‘There’s no phone reception out here. I don’t think Geoff’s in good shape.’

  Brenna knelt down. ‘Hello, Geoff. I’m Brenna and this is Ash. We’re doctors.’ She didn’t like what she was seeing. ‘We’ll take care of you, all right?’

  The man opened his eyes and nodded, then he tried to push up. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t move,’ Brenna said hurriedly, her hand instantly on his shoulder to hold him down.

  Ash nodded to her and began removing Geoff’s shoes.

  Looking around for the other two in their group, she said, ‘Can you go on until you get phone reception? We need the helicopter here,’ she said, before mouthing silently, ASAP.

  ‘On our way.’

  ‘Can you feel me touching your feet?’ Ash, the orthopaedic surgeon, asked Geoff.

  ‘No. Why would I when I’ve got shoes on?’

  Brenna’s heart plummeted. It was looking worse by the minute. Lifting his hand, she took his pulse, asking, ‘You can feel me doing this?’

  ‘Yes. What’s wrong? Why won’t
you let me sit up?’ Worry was building in the man’s eyes.

  ‘It’s a precaution, that’s all.’ It was not her place to tell him he might’ve broken his back. Anyway, they didn’t know for sure. There’d be an array of tests to be done first. Where was that chopper? That was if the others had got far enough down the hillside to have been able to phone for help yet. Geoff’s raised pulse was brought on by shock. ‘Any pain?’

  ‘In my left shoulder blade.’

  His friend told her, ‘He landed on a rock, then kind of flew along the track into that tree.’

  ‘Don’t tell Miriam that, will you? I’ll just tell her I fell off going too fast and got me some bruises, otherwise she won’t let me go biking again.’

  Brenna shivered. He hadn’t worked it out yet, but it was possible he wouldn’t be walking again, let alone biking. Whoever Miriam was, her life might be about to change in a way she’d never expected.

  What about the people who care about you, Brenna?

  Shut up, Hunter.

  ‘We were going pretty fast,’ the friend said.

  Another shiver ripped up her spine. This could happen to anyone, including her. Life as she knew it over in a flash. But it wasn’t. It was Geoff’s life that needed attending to. He might be numb from pressure on some nerves, not a damaged vertebra. In the meantime, she and Ash would treat him as though it was the worst-case scenario and not exacerbate the damage, whatever that was.

  * * *

  An hour later she and Ash watched the chopper lift away.

  ‘I don’t like his chances of dancing at his wedding,’ Ash said.

  Geoff had got quite garrulous before shock had overtaken him and shut him down.

  Rubbing her arms, Brenna stared at the retreating chopper with the cyclist and her colleagues on board and shivered. ‘Let’s hope there still is a wedding.’ Picking up her cycle, she prepared to head down the hill. Slowly.

  Ash had also found a new, much slower than usual speed.

  When they reached the other two waiting at Ash’s four-wheel, drive Brenna felt the tension leave her legs, arms and stomach. Pulling the phone from her bag, she called her mother. ‘Hi, letting you know another ride over and all went well.’