Delinquent Daddy

by Linda Kage

  Boston lifted his face.

  His brother's jaw sagged. "Holy Shit, Boston," he said, glancing down at the child's scrawl. "This letter was meant for you."

  Boston shook his head briefly to deny it. "No," he rasped.

  "It can't be. Ellie...she told me she had a miscarriage."

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  19

  Delinquent Daddy

  by Linda Kage

  Chapter Two

  Boston missed the address his first two passes down the street—even though his navigation system kept telling him he had arrived—but the third time, he paid closer attention to numbers and yes, there it was, wedged between a pair of three-story homes worth an easy million in mortgage.

  The house he sought looked more like a guest cottage. It's floor plan had to be under a thousand square feet total. A single-story building with brown siding and white trim, the place matched the color of the mansion to its left, solidifying his guest-cottage theory. Shrubs and small trees filled the yard and sheltered a good portion of the covered front porch.

  To Boston, it wasn't much. The whole thing could easily fit into his garage. But to a woman who'd come from a dirt-poor trailer park in Tennessee, was raised by her spinster great aunt, and had gotten pregnant when she was nineteen, this just might be a dream palace. He could see Ellie settling down here, thinking she'd come out okay.

  That didn't mean she lived here, he reminded himself. Just because the return address to that freaky letter was legitimate and led to an actual residence didn't mean any of this was true, even if the facts were too uncanny to give him any sort of hope.

  The names, the timing...they all fit.

  Hello, my name is Cassidy Trenton. I am nine years and ten months old. Boston subtracted nine years and ten months from his life. Then he took off another nine months, which 20

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  settled him right smack dab in the middle of April, his senior year at KU, just a few weeks before he and Ellie had split.

  His fingers contracted around the steering wheel as a cold sweat filmed his body. Having trouble regulating his breathing, he pulled to the curb and stared at the mini house.

  Did his daughter live here? Was she inside wondering where he was even as he sat there? Boston's vision blurred, and he concentrated on his oxygen intake before he had himself a full-blown panic attack.

  Hello, my name is Cassidy Trenton.

  Cassie. God, that was the name he'd chosen. Why, he had no idea. He'd been in meltdown mode back then, trying to deal with reality and ignore it at the same time. It took him nearly three weeks to realize the stress Ellie had to be going through as well and how he was only adding to her troubles with his constant bickering and snide remarks. Wanting to show a little support, he'd stayed up all night, flipping through a baby name book until he'd come across Cassie. At the time, it seemed to fit, so he picked up the phone and called Ellie.

  She answered on the fifth ring in a croaking, "'Lo."

  "What do you think of the name Cassidy for a girl?" he blurted out without preamble. "Cassie for short."

  After a short pause, she said, "Boston?"

  "Yeah." God, he'd woken the pregnant woman. "It's me."

  "What time is it?"

  He had no idea. He hadn't slept in days. There'd been too much to worry about, mainly the confession he had to make to his family that he'd gotten someone pregnant, someone 21

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  he'd never even told them he was dating...someone he'd been too embarrassed to introduce as his girlfriend.

  "It's, ah..." After a quick glance at his wrist, he winced.

  "It's almost one."

  She made a little mewling sound of distress that went straight to his gut. He loved her little sounds. They'd driven him crazy on too many different occasions. And like clockwork, his body responded. He realized he didn't want to talk to her over the phone. He wanted to be with her, tucked into that stupid single-sized bed she slept on with his body spooned up behind hers and his cheek snuggled to hers.

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against a nearby wall. "Sorry I woke you," he apologized, realizing how lame he sounded but not sure what to do about it.

  She cleared her throat. "It's okay. I went to bed early anyway."

  Of course it was okay. She was too forgiving. Hell, she'd probably forgive him for everything else if he'd just let her.

  But he couldn't. He'd wanted out instead. So in return, karma had bitch slapped him, and now his life was crumbling around him.

  "What were you saying?" she prompted. "About a girl."

  "I..." His mind went blank. What was the name he'd just chosen? Damn, he was losing it. "I like the name Cassie...for a girl. What do you think?"

  "Cassie," she repeated in that sleepy, sexy voice of hers.

  "Um...okay. Sure. What if it's a boy?"

  He paused. Crap. He hadn't gotten that far. To be honest, he thought he'd been doing good finding one name.

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  "I don't know," he mumbled.

  "Well, there's still plenty of time to decide. We don't have to figure it all out tonight."

  He wanted to though. He wanted to clear the air between them. Suddenly, he wanted to apologize and get that forgiveness he hadn't wanted before. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for being a butt in the past few weeks—the past few months, actually. He shouldn't have blamed her or accused her of trying to trick him into anything. He shouldn't have been so hateful. He'd just been so freaking scared. It'd been easier to lash out and get mad. He could deal with mad.

  He couldn't do scared. He hated being scared.

  "Ellie?" he said, his mouth opening to beg her forgiveness right then and there over the phone at one o'clock in the morning.

  "Yeah?" she said.

  "I..." His mouth opened, but no words came out.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," he assured her quickly. "It's just...nothing. I'm sorry I woke you. I'll see you tomorrow at the doctor's appointment. It's at two, right?"

  But he hadn't seen her the next day for their check-up.

  Instead, he'd gotten the call. Ellie had been in an accident.

  Someone had sideswiped the public transportation bus she'd been riding. She'd ended up in the emergency room and had gone through a miscarriage...or so she'd told him. He'd never actually spoken to a doctor about it.

  Boston hadn't seen her again after that announcement.

  She'd asked him to get out of her life, and he'd been too 23

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  scared, heartbroken, and relieved to argue. So, he left, never to return and discover if she'd been lying about the miscarriage.

  Well, it was time to learn the truth.

  He stared up at the house, grinding his teeth. He couldn't move. If Ellie had borne his child, and mother and daughter really lived here, then he wasn't ready to meet the girl. What would he do? What would he say? How in the world would he explain his absence?

  He reached forward to start the ignition and book it out of there. But half a second later, he stopped. Closing his eyes and cursing, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel before turning to glance at the miniscule house. He had to know. He wasn't going to leave this town without getting some answers.

  With still no idea what to say if anyone was home, he opened his car door and eased out. Starting up the uneven brick walkway, Boston once again studied the small yard. It was void of toys or any sign a child was in residence. But then, Ellie had always been tidy when he'd known her. Then there was also the fact he hadn't seen the backyard. All his sisters kept their children's toys in their backyards.

  Running a hand through his hair, he slid off his sunglasses, realizing he still wore them. Ten feet to the truth; his steps kept getting slower. His hands were ice cold; they shook
slightly. Five feet and all his questions could be solved.

  When he stepped onto the porch, a fuzzy animal darted out from under the steps. Boston breathed out a curse and jumped back. As he watched a fat cat scurry into a neighbor's 24

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  yard and dash under a shrub, envy filled him. But running and hiding wasn't an option. It was time for answers.

  Letting out a long breath, he fisted his shaking hand and knocked. After thirty seconds, he pressed the doorbell and knocked again. Two minutes later, he peeked in the window but couldn't see anything past the heavy curtain.

  No one was home.

  Not sure if he should be relieved or only more agitated, Boston turned around and jogged off the porch. He was halfway down the walkway when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled, braced to face anything.

  A woman in bright yellow capris and a black blouse threw him off track, however, as she came from the yard of the house to the left, bearing down on him like a female on a mission.

  He groaned deep in this throat. Great. A nosy neighbor.

  That was the last thing he wanted to handle. But with her already headed determinedly his way, he knew he'd look silly if he made a dash for it. So, he plastered a tight smile to his mouth and nodded to her in greeting.

  "Can I help you with something?" she asked, glancing curiously at his car sitting at the curb and then back to him.

  She sounded nice enough, but it was clear she was doing a security check for the home's owner.

  Boston opened his mouth, slid his hands into his back pockets, and turned to eye the brown house. "I..."

  What could he say? I'm just wondering if I have a nine-year-old daughter and if she lives here.

  Daughter.

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  Holy God, the mere word made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Was he a father? Had he been one for nearly a decade?

  Then it struck him that this woman would know who lived here. Since she obviously had concerns about strangers lurking in the yard, she'd surely know who owned the miniscule brown house.

  Pointing at the front door, he forced a pleasant smile. "I was just waiting for Ellie to get home."

  There. Now he'd get some answers. If neighbor woman frowned and said, "Ellie? Ellie who?" he'd know this was some kind of awful prank.

  But the woman's shoulders eased at his words. "Oh," she said. Her eyebrows lifted and her gaze quickly traveled down his body. "Are you...a friend of Ellie's?"

  Boston nearly groaned again. Oh, brother. Not only was she a nosy neighbor, but she was one of those matchmaking busybodies who wanted to know about everyone's love life.

  The word, "No," spat out of his mouth before he could check himself.

  Neighbor Lady frowned, making Boston flush.

  "I mean, I'm..." He floundered. Then he thought of Cassie.

  "I'm a relative," he finished. If Ellie did live here, then it only made sense Cassidy Trenton existed. That would definitely put him in the role of the absentee father. And yes, one could definitely say a father was related.

  Ms. Nosy frowned even more at his answer; he almost rolled his eyes. She wasn't going to back off, was she?

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  "It's been a while since I've seen her," he offered, hoping to appease her curiosity. "Cassie..." He faltered, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Her daughter wasn't even born yet."

  Relief crossed her face as his story meshed with what she knew about the occupants of the brown house. A sickened feeling filled him. It was true then. Ellie lived here with her daughter, Cassie.

  "Well, my goodness," the neighbor said, looking suddenly very comfortable with him. "It has been a while then, hasn't it?"

  Boston nodded and rubbed his hand on his pant leg, hoping she would go away so he could commence a panic attack in peace. But, dear Lord, how could it be true? Ellie had told him the baby was dead. Why would she lie? Why—

  "Is Ellie expecting you?"

  He lifted his face. The word no was on the tip of his tongue, but he changed his mind at the last second and nodded yes. "But I made it to town a lot sooner than I expected," he lied. "I don't remember when she said she'd be home. Do you..."

  "Ellie always gets home at five thirty," helpful neighbor lady answered before he could finish his question. Then she grinned and rolled her eyes. "I swear you can set a clock by Elora Trenton's schedule."

  Trenton. So, she was still going by her maiden name.

  Either Ellie was single or she hadn't taken her husband's name. The Ellie he remembered was traditional. She'd take on her husband's surname if she was married. So, he had to assume she hadn't met someone else and created a child with 27

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  that person. Then again, why would she name some other man's daughter Cassie?

  Boston checked his watch. Fifteen minutes after five.

  "Thank you," he offered the woman. "I guess I'll just wait then."

  After the woman finally faded back toward her own yard, Boston returned to the porch, where he remembered seeing a wicker chair. The fragile wood creaked and groaned as he sat.

  Hooking one ankle over his opposite knee, he settled back and waited.

  Fifteen minutes later, his foot jiggled impatiently and his fingers tapped rapidly against the wicker armrest. Okay, it was five thirty. Where the hell was Ellie? Where was Cassie?

  Why couldn't he breathe?

  Questions mounted, time ticked on, and Boston continued to wait...and sweat. As sure as the neighbor had been about Ellie's ETA, he grew anxious. Something wasn't right. He remembered her as always being prompt too. So, why wasn't she home yet?

  It made him wonder if someone really had pulled a hoax on him. If they had, he wasn't amused. If someone was messing with him, they'd pay. Plotting the demise of his unknown prankster, Boston didn't realize another fifteen minutes had passed until an old Toyota Corolla minus a muffler pulled into the drive.

  As the car shuddered to a stop and the engine coughed out its last breath, Boston pushed to his feet. He spotted one occupant—a lone woman—inside. No child sat in the 28

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  passenger seat or even in the back. Frowning, he moved to the top of the steps.

  She didn't notice him. Instead, she opened the driver's side door, slid out, and immediately moved to the trunk to pop it open. He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for her attention.

  The lady looked to be the same height and size as the Ellie he remembered. If it was her, she hadn't gained any weight except maybe to grow a few new curves. But after ten years, that was completely possible.

  Then it happened.

  Before reaching down to retrieve whatever was in the trunk, she pushed a piece of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. The move was so Ellie like, it caused Boston to catch his breath in bittersweet memory of the girl he'd fallen for all those years ago.

  It also provided him with a better view of her face.

  He sucked in air, forcing oxygen back into his lungs. Oh yeah, his all-knowing gut surprised him with an acidic rumble of recognition. He'd found Ellie all right.

  Features that still bore the wholesome girl-next-door had bloomed and turned into the strikingly beautiful TV

  commercial-mom look.

  Her hair appeared lighter. There were now blonde streaks among the dark tresses. She wore the mane shorter than she had ten years ago too. But, wow, this was definitely her.

  His stomach tightened as he watched her pull two bags of groceries from the trunk, shut it with her elbow, and finally turn his way.

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  Ellie, something soft and nostalgic murmured through his bloodstream, startling him with its longing.
Ten years melted away and his body grew taut, remembering more than it should. But he knew the sweet memories would drown in bitter reality as soon as she lifted her face and noticed him.

  He gritted his teeth, almost reluctant for things to get underway, yet all too aware there was no way out of it now.

  She was bound to see him any second.

  Three, two, one...

  Ellie was running late.

  Her boss, Winston Young, had to be the most forgetful, careless man ever. She'd wanted to clock out early so she could stop by the grocery store and be home in enough time to have supper fixed before Cassie was due back. But Mr. Oh-I-forgot-I-need-a-memo-typed-before-tomorrow had plopped a stack of papers on her desk at four thirty, and she'd suddenly remembered why she couldn't stand lawyers.

  They lied and lied and left you nothing but a heaping mess to clean up. And mess was the exact word she'd use for the unorganized pile of junk Winston had left her. She began to understand half an hour later why Winston always talked his clients into pleading out on a case. He probably didn't think he could keep his paperwork around long enough to ever make it to a trial.

  After filing the last document into its proper drawer, she'd slapped Winston's last-minute memo onto his desk, wished him a good evening, and hurried toward the exit, tugging her purse strap onto her shoulder as she fled. She didn't even 30

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  hear all of his, "'Bye then. See you tomorrow," before she shut the door snuggly in his face.

  Her quick grocery run proved to be not-so-quick ten minutes later when she stepped foot inside the store and realized they were having a sale on meat. The place was packed, the checkout lines overflowing, and the aisles overrun with customers. Deciding she wasn't going to have time to cook, Ellie snatched two salad meals from the produce section and hurried along.

  Cassie would grumble about salad for supper. But they were coated with meats and vegetables and cheese and were about the healthiest quick meal Ellie could buy on the run.

  And no, Ellie wasn't going to waste time fixing a complete meal. Supper was at six, so she'd have food on the table at six when her daughter made it home from tumbling practice...no matter what.