by Shade, S. M.
“What is wrong with you? Your son just said your name for the first time. Reached for you for the first time!”
“This is none of your fucking business, Naomi. You are an employee.”
Rage rattles in my chest. “Yes, hired to help you care for your baby. Not to watch you neglect him!”
A sharp step toward me makes me raise my chin and look him in the eye.
“He has everything he could need. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
My voice shakes as I reply, despite my attempt to steady it. “Withholding love is neglect! There’s more to raising a child than providing the necessities! You can’t just make sure he’s fed and has clothes. It isn’t something you can throw money and people at and call it a day.”
Towering over me, his words come out like a whip. “You’re overstepping your place here. I’m his father—”
“Are you?” I interrupt. “What’s his favorite food? Which toy does he like in the bath? What’s he afraid of at the playground? What song does he like to hear while he’s falling asleep? Huh? He’s your kid! Shouldn’t a father know these things?” I’m losing it. And probably getting nowhere but fired in the process.
Trying to calm my own raging emotions, I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut—"
“You’re right.”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s interrupted me, and I feel a little relief at his words, some hope I’ve actually gotten through to him.
Until he leans over, nearly nose to nose with me. “You should keep your mouth shut.”
Tension filled silence hangs around us until he steps back and starts to walk away. I’ve always been perceptive, and even while seething, I notice the slump of his shoulders, the loss of that usual confident swagger. He can argue all he wants. I know what this is.
“You’re afraid,” I say, softening my voice. It’s not an accusation, but a fact. “You’re getting close to him and it scares you. That’s why you had the nightmare about him. All parents have those horrible dreams. Stress dreams because they’re scared of screwing up their kid or not being able to protect them. Of losing what they love most. You love him. Refusing to show him hurts you both, but he’s going to take the brunt of the damage.”
He pauses for a few heartbeats, then walks away.
Chapter Five
Axton
Reamed by the fucking nanny. Neglect. If I was so neglectful, her ass would be out the door. It’s only because Caden is so attached to her that I didn’t send her packing.
The thought occurred to me, but I know she does a good job with him. She has also followed my instructions to stay out of my way and my business. Until tonight. Anger was my prevailing emotion, but the words she threw at me quickly replaced it with shame. Because she was right.
I’ve always been good at concealing my thoughts. Reining in the expression on my face to keep it neutral. Somehow, she looked right through that and spit my issues and fears right at me.
The memory flashes through my head. The way she stepped toward me, steeling her spine, the flash in her eyes that dared me. My cock is hard just thinking about it. I saw a glimpse of that the first night she stayed here when she announced to me and the band that she wasn’t my fucking maid. Those innocent looks of hers. Her fast shift between calm and harsh. That sweet, helpful persona she totes around might be as fake as my cold one.
Either way, she’s willing to fight for my son—against me if she has to—when she has to know she’s risking her job. I made the right choice for his nanny. Even if that smart mouth simultaneously makes me want to fire her and fuck her until she screams.
Dani seems pissed too, but if anyone should understand, it’s her. She’s attending some farewell party with her ex-coworkers tonight, so at least I don’t have to argue with her.
So much is piling on, I feel out of my mind. Things were going okay. Caden was fine, everything was cool. Then the nightmare. And Dani was getting abused. And Caden said my name, reached for me, wanted me.
All I could see was that image of him, playing like a video in my head. Falling apart, turning to mush in my arms. It doesn’t take a therapist to decipher that shit.
From one second to the next, I have no idea what I’m doing or what to expect, and I hate that Naomi was right. She hit the target dead on. I’m afraid. For him and for me.
I’m fucking things up. I don’t know the right thing to do anymore. What will damage him worse? Loving me, depending on me? Or feeling abandoned the way I did as a kid? Which way do the scales tip?
Naomi passes me in the hall as I head to the back patio with my guitar. After the argument earlier, I expect her to be pissed, but the look she gives me isn’t hateful. It’s disappointed.
Well, fuck her too. She has no idea. She doesn’t know me, and I sure don’t have to live up to her expectations of being a father.
The night air is cool. Flashes light up the distant sky from a storm too far away to be heard. Perfect. Fits my mood.
The swirling thoughts racing around my head slow with the movement of my fingers over the strings. The low chords hum against my brain, soothing, predictable, calm. Over fifteen years and that feeling never gets old.
I found my stillness, my space between breaths, when I was a kid. The answer was simple. If it hurts, I pour music on it.
There are songs in progress, projects I could be working on, but I’m not interested in anything but escape tonight. My eyes fall shut, and muscle memory takes over as I let everything slip away, playing and singing in a low voice. Time ripples, moving in uneven bursts as it always does when I lose myself in the music.
No matter how bad things get, there’s always this. Always the melody of notes and chords, the melding of the voice into harmony, the darkness behind my eyelids.
Raindrops dot my clothes, coming faster and more numerous until I finally stop playing. The wind increases. It’s time to call it a night. Fuck knows what tomorrow has in store.
Caden’s cries reach my ears as soon as I step into the kitchen, making me pause. I’m far from a baby expert, but that’s not his usual cry when he’s hungry or needs changed. His wails are shrill and sudden. He’s in pain.
Setting my guitar aside, I start toward his room, but a frazzled Naomi stands in my way. “I was just coming to find you. Caden’s sick. I’ve given him a pain reliever to bring down his fever, but it didn’t help much. I think he should go to Urgent Care.”
She follows me into his room where he stands in his crib, his face flushed. The look he gives me nearly knocks me to my knees. It’s misery, and a plea. Do something.
I don’t miss the surprise on Naomi’s face when I pick him up. “Get his stuff together. There’s an Urgent Care right around the corner.”
Frantically grabbing his stuff and shoving it into a diaper bag, she replies, “He can’t go to that one. His doctor is affiliated with the one on State Street. It isn’t far.”
Add it to the list of things I should know.
“Fine.”
The Urgent Care Center is almost empty, and the recognition and excitement I see on the woman who takes Caden’s information puts my guard up. This level of fame, since the EP album release, is new to me and growing faster than I’d like. The money is great and living my dream of being a successful musician has always been the goal, it’s just too bad losing anonymity comes along with it.
It probably gets us back to the exam room faster, though, and I’ve never had a doctor come in so quickly. On the drive here, Caden would fall asleep, then whimper and cry as Naomi tried to comfort him. Now, he’s squalling his head off as the doctor examines him.
As soon as she’s done, Naomi dresses him and he reaches for me. There’s no hesitation this time. He’s hurting and he wants me. That’s all I need to know. His hot face touches mine as he rests his head on my shoulder.
“He has a double ear infection,” the doctor announces. “I’ll prescribe him an antibiotic and
some ear drops for the pain. Keep giving him the Tylenol as directed. He should feel a lot better in a day or two. Be sure to follow up with your pediatrician.”
Naomi takes the prescriptions and paperwork from the doctor and we’re on our way out in half the amount of time I’m used to spending in the waiting room. As we’re leaving, the intake clerk rushes around the desk and practically darts to meet us at the door.
“Axton! My daughter just loves your band. Do you think I could get a picture and maybe you could sign…”
Her voice falters away and the paper in her hand is lowered when she looks at my face. Anger beats in my blood. What did she expect? For me to chuck my sick kid aside and pose for pictures? What is wrong with people?
Caden whimpers and wriggles, trying to sleep through his discomfort.
Maybe Naomi could read the eight hundred horrible things I wanted to say to that woman flashing across my forehead, or maybe she just knows me.
“Come on, Axton,” Naomi pleads, taking a step toward the door. “Let’s get him home so he can rest.”
Without responding to either of them, I continue through the doors.
Naomi rides with Caden in the back seat and fortunately, he falls asleep on our way to a twenty-four hour pharmacy to fill his prescriptions.
At Naomi’s urging, I pick up a special drink to keep him from getting dehydrated. While I’m waiting for them to call his name, I wander around the store. Sick. My kid is sick. What else could he need? Mom used to give us ginger ale when we were little, and crackers, but that was for a sick stomach.
The only thing I remember looking forward to when I was sick as a kid was popsicles.
It’s past three in the morning when I return to the car and sit the bags in the passenger seat. Naomi rests with her eyes closed, her hand on Caden’s belly as he sleeps. Glancing back at them, something shifts inside me. Some emotion pulls at me that I don’t recognize and I’m not comfortable with. It feels so…familial.
How did I get here? I’m the guy you find at a bar playing music or getting shitfaced at three a.m. not in an Urgent Care or pharmacy parking lot, stressing over a sick baby. This isn’t…who I am.
Shaking off the surreal feeling, I put the car in gear and head for home. Naomi opens her eyes at the rumble of the garage door and gathers Caden in her arms.
“He feels cooler,” she remarks as we continue into the house. He stirs a little as she lies him on one end of the couch, placing a pillow beside him so he won’t roll off. “I hate to wake him, but we need to get the antibiotics into him.”
Taking the bag of medicine from me, she opens the package, reads the directions, and heads toward Caden while I put the drinks and popsicles away.
Caden sits on her lap, his body slumped against her, and he is not happy about being disturbed. “I know, baby boy, but it’ll make you feel better. Come on now.”
He still has the strength to whip his head back and forth, fighting against the dropper Naomi is trying to put between his lips. She finally gets it, and he sprays the pink liquid everywhere, squirming and crying. “Nuh nuh nuh!”
Naomi closes her eyes for a moment, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her show any frustration when it comes to Caden. Or maybe she’s just exhausted. Her voice doesn’t show it as she talks softly, trying to calm him enough to try again.
His gaze lands on me and he babbles, “Da da da da.”
The sound still makes my stomach knot. Dad has never been a positive word to me nor anything I’ve ever strived to be. He reaches toward me again and my mind spins with a thousand images at once.
Running home from after school care with a clay ashtray I made for Dad. His roar of “It’s lopsided, you fucking idiot.” The ashtray smashing into pieces on the floor before the edge of the beer can pelted at me sliced my arm. Blood mixing with my tears on the cheap linoleum.
Washing his car in the winter air, ignoring the chatter of my teeth as he yelled insults from the front porch.
Learning to fight so he’d quit calling me a pussy.
Doing anything and everything I could to try to get him to care about me.
Reaching out and finding nothing but violence.
How old was I when I stopped reaching?
Naomi’s words. “He’ll take the brunt of the damage.”
Fuck.
Naomi’s eyebrows take a sudden leap when I lift him off of her lap. I carry him to the kitchen to grab a popsicle, then sit in the recliner with him on my lap. Glassy eyes stare up at me as I speak. “It sucks, I know. Earaches are the worst. So you have to let me fix it. And the medicine probably tastes like ass, so here’s the deal. You take a little medicine and we’ll use a grape flavored chaser.”
His sweaty head lies against my shoulder, but he perks up when I rub the tip of the icy treat against his lips. Sitting up, his eyes widen a bit. Yeah, this is a kid not accustomed to sugar. He sucks on the popsicle then gives a small gap-toothed grin.
Naomi puts the dropper in my hand when I motion for it. “Now, a deal’s a deal. That’s something you got to learn early. Only total losers back out on a deal.” As fast as possible, I pull back the popsicle, stick the dropper into his mouth, and squeeze. Before he can realize what I’ve done, I put the popsicle back to his lips.
He swallows the medicine and goes back to the popsicle without a fuss.
It works with the second dropper of medicine and even keeps him distracted when we turn him on one side then the other to administer the eardrops. Within a few minutes, his eyes droop and he falls asleep in the crook of my arm.
My hand and wrist are coated in sticky grape drool, and he could use cleaning up too, but there’s no way I’m going to chance waking him when he’s finally resting. Instead, I push the chair into the fully reclined position, and take a nap as well.
The sound of the front door closing jerks me awake, and Caden stirs against my arm which has gone completely numb from hours of his weight. The events of the night gradually trickle back. I’m not sure a night has ever seemed so long.
Dani stands in the doorway, her gaze leaping from me to the couch and back again. “What’s going on?”
It’s a fair question. The sight of Caden sleeping with me in a chair while Naomi is crashed on the couch isn’t exactly a normal morning. Caden begins to whine and Naomi’s eyes pop open like she was just waiting for that sound.
“Caden’s sick. Ear infections. He had a rough night.”
Dani looks around the room. “Looks like all of you did.”
“What time is it?” Naomi asks, sitting up.
“Almost noon.”
“Shit. He needs his medicine again, and a bath. Hopefully he’ll take a bottle too,” she rattles off.
Dani plucks Caden off my lap. “Let me clean him up and get him changed. You two look wiped out.”
Caden grins at the sight of her. He isn’t crying, but he tugs at his ear. It must be hurting.
Naomi heads to the kitchen, then returns with a cup of that awful cold coffee she drinks. “His pediatrician’s number is on the white board in the kitchen.”
Shit. That’s right. The Urgent Care doc said to follow up with him. “Thanks,” I grunt. As much as I want a cup of coffee, I’m a sweaty, sticky mess and a shower is going to come first. Then the guys are supposed to be here today to run through the new song with me. The only one who has seen the lyrics is Elliot and he was excited about them. Something different from our usual.
The feeling of being watched brushes over me and sure enough, Naomi is staring at me from the couch. It’s frustrating as fuck the way I can’t read her expressions sometimes.
“What?” I snap.
Unperturbed as usual by my attitude, she leans back and takes a sip of her coffee. Her eyes never leave mine as she replies, “You were a good dad last night. That’s all.”
It’s not what I expected to hear and the way those words from her make me feel is confusing.
Now I can read her expression and I don’t like it. I�
��ve caught her staring at my ass or checking me out when I’m just out of the pool a few times, but fair enough since I’m guilty of the same when it comes to her. The difference is I know nothing will come of it.
This look though, contains more than the occasional hate filled lust we toss back and forth.
“Why the fuck would I care about your opinion of how I handled my son?”
For the first time, I see my words have gotten to her. It’s just a small blanch, a tiny chink in her armor of he can’t affect me. There’s no sign of weakness in her voice when she speaks however. Just curiosity.
“Is there a reason you’re an ass to me or is that just your default personality?”
Getting to my feet, I glare down at her, and I’m met with a challenging look in return. “Don’t push me.”
“It’s fine, Axton. I can take your bullshit. As long as you’re good to Caden.” With that, she gets to her feet and walks toward her room.
A beep from my phone reminds me I have shit to do today that doesn’t include arguing with my smart mouthed nanny.
Usually, a shower can set my mind straight, but questions beat against my brain, unaffected by the hot water. Why does she care so much about a kid that isn’t hers? This is her job and she seems to have no qualms speaking to her boss whatever way she wants. It occurs to me how little I know of her outside of her pertinent employment and educational background. Until now, I really didn’t give a shit. As long as she does her job, nothing else was relevant.
It still isn’t, but I admit I’m curious. She’s young and beautiful. Compassionate, but sharp tongued with a fiery temper I’ve watched her control when it comes to me. Her question about why I’m an asshole to her caught me off guard but it wasn’t unfair. I’m not sure I’m completely aware of the answer myself.
I was pissed off at everything. Overwhelmed and hating the thought of all these changes I’m still struggling with. She became a huge part of that. A new person I had to deal with. One not afraid to judge me for my failures. Who also didn’t hesitate to tell me when she thought I was doing well.