by Susan Gable
“Chill, Greg,” Hayden yelled. “We’ll be out when we’re ready. Superhero bonding with his sidekick, here.” In a flash, he’d jumped back onto the platform and grabbed Nick in a headlock, bending him over. He gave him a noogie, rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head. “So what do you say, kid? You gonna be my sidekick or do I have to get rough with you?”
“I suppose.”
“Ooh, try not to overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.” Uncle Hayden let him go, moving for the door.
Nick rubbed his head, straightening up. “Unk?”
Hayden stopped, turned. “Yeah?”
“My dad...”
“What about him?”
“He’d...he’d want me to protect my mom, right?”
“Protect her from what?” Unk returned to the edge of the platform.
Nick shrugged. “Being hurt.”
“By who?”
“Doesn’t matter. That person can’t hurt her anymore. But...I mean...ah, hell, I don’t know what I mean.” Holding Scott’s secret was driving him crazy. If he told Uncle Hayden, most likely he’d tell his mother.
Problem solved. Except for the part where Mom would get mad at him for not telling her years ago, when he’d first found out. And it would still hurt her. “Never mind. Let’s go show everyone how the costume looks.”
Unk pulled off his red mask, reached forward and yanked off Nick’s mask. He stared at him for a moment. “Who can’t hurt her anymore, Nick?”
“S-Scott.”
A muscle on the side of Unk’s jaw twitched. “Tell me.”
The soft whir of the ceiling fan seemed ten times louder as they stood there in silence. Nick stared at his feet in the mirror, flexing his big toe.
“Nicholas, spill it. I’m not screwing around here.”
He jerked his head up. “Scott was...” Nick drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, tension in his chest easing.
Unk’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Scott was...?”
“Screwing around.”
“Son of a bitch. You knew about that?”
“Yeah. He used to tell Mom we were going fishing. He’d get me set up by the ferry dock, and then tell me he had an errand to run. Sometimes he’d be gone for an hour or two. One day I had to go to the bathroom. I was coming out when I saw a woman drop him off in the parking lot. He kissed her before he got out of the car. Not like a peck on the cheek, either. After that, I’d always watch. Caught him with a few different ones.”
“Did he know that you saw him?”
“The first time.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I’d understand when I was older. That he loved my mom, but men had needs. And that if I told her, it would break her heart and make her cry, and I didn’t want that, right?”
Hayden clenched his teeth so hard he could hear the muscles straining. The urge to go to the nursing home and shake the shit out of Scott Mangano subsided only because it wouldn’t satisfy. The man—and he used the term lightly—had used a son’s love for his mother to hide his infidelity. “How old were you, Nick?”
“Ten.”
“So you’ve been carrying this for four years?”
The boy nodded.
“Maybe you understand now why I don’t keep secrets?”
He bobbed his head again.
“Good.” Hayden strode to the door, yanking it open. “Ronni? Come in here, please.”
A stifled squeak made him return his attention to Nick. The kid shook his head frantically, backing away. He stumbled off the raised platform, kept moving until he’d pressed himself into a corner.
“Don’t do that,” Hayden chided. “Man up. She already knows. She’s been going out of her mind to protect you, and you’ve been doing the same thing for her. Time for both of you to come clean.”
Ronni appeared in the doorway, Greg peering over her shoulder. Hayden pulled her into the dressing room, slamming the door in his brother’s face.
“Hey!” Greg protested, banging on the wooden slats. “I’m the creator! I should get to see.”
“You’re going to break my door,” said Mrs. Bagley, the seamstress. “You boys need to settle down.”
“Foxtrot off, Greg. Family emergency here. You can see in a few minutes. Go draw something.” Hayden leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest, facing into the room. Nobody else was getting in here until mother and son had aired their dirty laundry.
Ronni glanced from him to her son. “What’s going on? Nick, do you hate the costume that much? Can you just try to do it for Uncle Greg and Jordan?”
“It’s got nothing to do with the costume,” Hayden said. “Tell your mother what you just told me.”
The boy looked down at his feet again.
“I’m not doing it for you, Nick. You’re not a little kid. You can do this.”
“Umm...”
Ronni skirted the platform, went over to him. She lowered herself into a chair, took his hand. “Nick?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he choked out. “I should have told you when it happened the first time. ’Cause it was way before he deployed. You could have divorced him then, and maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. But I didn’t want to hurt you.” He dropped to his knees in front of the chair, leaning in to wrap his arms around his mother’s waist, pressing his face into her belly.
Ronni stroked his hair, casting a wide-eyed, concerned look over his head at Hayden. He jerked his chin in the boy’s direction.
“Told me what, sweetheart?” she prodded.
“That...that Scott was cheating on you.”
Ronni took Nick’s arms, pushed him back so she could see his face. “You knew about it?”
He nodded. “Scott met women when we were supposed to be fishing together.”
Fire flared in her eyes. “He used you to cover his affairs?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
She cupped her son’s face with one hand. “I’m sorry, baby. I had no idea. He had no right to put something that heavy on you. No right at all.” On the side of her leg, out of sight from Nick, her other hand curled into a fist.
Looked like momma lion had the same urge to shake the snot out of Scott as Hayden had. Good for her. Feeling mad at the bastard beat feeling...defective. Unworthy.
“You knew, too?”
“Remember before Scott deployed? He had to go to training at the army base first?”
Nick nodded.
“I found out just before then. That was the first time I asked him for a divorce.”
“So why didn’t you divorce him then?”
“Because I believed him when he said he loved me. And you. That he wanted to make it work. That he needed to have us to come home to. That it wouldn’t happen again.”
“So then why...oh.”
Hayden could see understanding dawn in the boy’s eyes. A mask of maturity slid into place over his features. For a split second, Hayden would have sworn he was looking at his younger brother, he resembled Ian so strongly.
“It happened again, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Got it. So you told him you wanted a divorce while he was in the field...”
“Then he got hurt,” Ronni said.
“And you didn’t want to divorce him?”
“It wouldn’t have been right.” She sniffled.
“Mom.” Nick rose to his feet, pulling Ronni out of the chair. He wrapped his arms around her, this time offering comfort instead of seeking it.
Hayden took a step in their direction, then froze, resisting the damn near overwhelming impulse to envelop both of them in a group embrace.
Ian would definitely be proud of his son.
Hayden sure as hell was.
And yet a sense of emptiness clung to him like the red cape of his costume.
Maybe he wasn’t as content with his life as he’d thought. Maybe he needed something more from a woman than thirty days.
###
Ronn
i kept her anger carefully in check for the rest of the afternoon. Nick modeled the costume for Greg, for the costume designer and even Jordan, who’d been invited along because of her plans to make a special video version of Captain Chemo. She’d wrangled Nick’s grudging agreement to participate provided she didn’t list his name in the credits.
Nick asked to go home with Jordan so they could work on several projects, including planning for the Captain Chemo movie. A quick call to Amelia, who was rapidly becoming one of Ronni’s favorite new Hawkins, even if she hadn’t married Finn—or maybe because she hadn’t—brought permission.
Greg took off with the kids, leaving Ronni with Hayden.
“I should have driven my own car,” she griped as they pulled away from the seamstress’s shop.
“You got somewhere else you want to go besides home? Name it. I’m happy to oblige.”
Ronni wrapped the straps of her purse around her hand. “I’d like to go to the nursing home and tell Scott exactly what I think of him. Damn him for doing that to Nick. You know, the one thing I thought he had in his favor was that he was always a good stepfather. Now he’s ruined that, too. Bastard. And I can’t yell at him, or smack him silly, because what would be the point? Not to mention the nursing home would probably call the cops on me, and that would bring the press running again, and...”
Hayden grinned at her.
“What the hell are you smiling about?”
“I have just the thing to make you feel better.” He whipped the Camaro into a Country Fair parking lot, then pulled right out again, heading in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I’m not in the mood for games, Hayden. I’m in the mood to tear someone a new one.”
“Exactly.”
She settled back in the seat. Let him be cryptic. Men. Can’t live with them, can’t...divorce them when you’d really, really like to.
A heavy dose of guilt followed hot on the heels of that thought.
A few minutes later, they pulled into Hayden’s condo community. “We’re going to your place?”
“Yep.” He parked the car outside the garage this time. After escorting her in, he flipped on the lights and closed the door. Leaving her standing in the middle of his basement garage.
“Okay, now what?”
“Give me a second.” He rummaged in the corner near the storage shelves, then staggered out with a heavy blue punching bag in his arms, fastening it to a chain dangling from an overhead beam.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No. You said you wanted to rip someone a new one. You want to smack Scott silly and can’t. Here. Pretend this is him. Tell him what you think.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Bottled up emotions aren’t any healthier than keeping secrets.” He squared his shoulder against the bag, then slapped the front of it with his palm. “Come on. Take a jab at it. At him.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do. Make a fist and sock him.”
“I feel stupid.”
“Okay, let me demonstrate.” Hayden slid from behind the bag. Fists raised in front of his body, he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Mangano, you’re a worthless piece of scum. This is for Nick.” Hayden threw a punch with his right hand, then left, then right again. “And this is for Ronni.” He kicked it so hard the chain rattled with the force.
She winced.
Hayden stepped back, swept his arm toward the bag. “Go on. You’ll feel better. At least tell him what you think.”
“I—I hate you for what you did to my son.” She balled up her hand, poked the bag halfheartedly.
“That’s hate? Your babcia could hit harder than that.” He circled around behind the punching bag again. “This so-called man used your son to cover up his cheating on you.”
She slammed the side of her fist into it hard enough to make it move this time. “Bastard.”
“Better.” When she didn’t continue, he did. “He slept with other women, then came home to you.”
She kicked the bottom of the bag. Her sneaker jammed into the top of her foot but that barely registered.
“Yeah, that’s the spirit. I know where that kick was aimed.”
She repeated the motion. Bam. “I’d like to kick him in the nuts so hard, he has to spit them out.”
“Yeah, babe, now you’re talking.”
“You stole my son’s innocence.” Punch. “Betrayed my trust.” Kick. “Abused my love for you.” Double punch.
Her knuckles stung and her foot throbbed in time with the rapid beat of her heart. She continued assaulting Scott-by-proxy. “You made me feel worthless. Ugly.” The vibrations from that punch traveled up her arm to the shoulder. “And just when I thought I’d freed myself, you had to be stupid.”
Her only previous boxing experience had been on the Wii gaming console in her living room. Actually hitting something satisfied her a hell of a lot more.
“You came home a turnip!” Whap. “And now I’m stuck with you.” Kick, punch. “Stuck with you, dammit!”
She unleashed a final flurry of kicks and punches that made every cell in her body vibrate. Her chest tightened as the impact of her words solidified.
Words she’d never spoken aloud before.
Knees giving way underneath her, she sank to the concrete floor. Tears spilled down her face.
Hayden quickly abandoned the bag. The exercise had been even more successful than he’d expected.
What he hadn’t expected was a meltdown. He dropped to the ground behind her, extending his legs around her. His chest pressed against her spine and he wrapped his arms around her. “That’s telling him,” he murmured into her hair.
Deep, gut-wrenching sobs, punctuated with gasps for air, shook her body. He rocked forward and back in time with the swaying punching bag. Holding her while the anguish ran its course.
Her pain made him hurt. Made him wish he could somehow ease it. But a hot towel wasn’t going to make this feel any better.
Eventually the creaking of the chain stopped. The bag stilled. Ronni sagged against him. “I didn’t mean it,” she whispered.
“You did.” He rested his chin on the top of her head, tightened his grip on her. “And that’s okay. You’re allowed. It’s just us.” He forced a lighter note into his voice. “And if you say, ‘Yeah, but you have a big mouth, Hayden,’ I’m never letting you use my punching bag again.”
She didn’t respond. He shifted, placing his mouth closer to her ear. “Ron?”
Not being able to see the expression on her face made it a lot harder to figure out exactly what was going on with her. He leaned forward, snaked his arm under her thighs and lifted her. With a few minor maneuvers, he positioned her so she sat at his side, facing him.
He cradled her cheeks in both hands, raising her head. Tear tracks marred her makeup. He brushed at them with his thumbs. “It’s okay, Ronni.”
“No. It’s not.”
The woman he’d spent thirteen years condemning as a walk-away, who’d unknowingly shaped his own perceptions of commitment and trust, had actually taken stand-by-your-man to a whole new level.
Her lower lip quivered. He grazed his thumb over it. Once. Twice.
The temperature in the garage climbed.
Her eyes widened.
His heart pounded. With anticipation, desire... Normally he would just move in, claim her lips. But with her...he needed to get control of this before it got away from them. Needed to scare her off before he did something they’d both regret. “I want to kiss you.”
His declaration hung between them. He braced himself.
Her pupils grew larger. The edges of her mouth curled. “I want to let you.”
Sucker punched. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Not the response he’d expected.
CHAPTER TEN
RIGHT THERE IN THE MIDDLE of his basement floor.
She’d damn near given in to t
emptation. But...she hadn’t. And now she’d spent the past few weeks imagining.
The warmth of his mouth on hers. On her skin. The sandpapery caress of his five o’clock shadow on her belly. The weight of his body pressed against hers.
“Earth to Ronni. Come in, Ronni.”
“Hmm?” Shaken from her lovely reverie, she found Amelia staring at her from across the wooden table in the picnic pavilion near the ferry docks on Presque Isle. Jordan had selected several locations at the park for scenes in her Captain Chemo video. But the moms had been banished to the picnic pavilion, where dinner was in the process of being prepared, after interrupting the process one too many times with their gasps of dismay over some of the “stunts” Hayden pulled.
The final straw for Ronni had been when Nick had stepped into Hayden’s cupped hands—and Hayden had tossed him into the air. Her son had executed and landed a perfect backflip. And she’d just plain flipped.
Getting her and all the moms tossed off “the set.” After all, it wasn’t as if Nick had been hurt. And Hayden was responsible for himself. But director Jordan and her cast didn’t want to keep reshooting scenes. The little kids, dressed in white to symbolize the “good guys,” the body’s defense systems, didn’t take direction well to start with.
The big kids—the grown Hawkins brothers among them—wore black. They were the cancer cells, the invaders. They took direction only marginally better than the little ones.
If Nick ended up with even a scratch, she’d threatened Hayden with serious bodily harm.
And still here she was, fantasizing about him...
It was okay, as long as it stayed in her head, right? And who better to fantasize about than Hayden? Because even if she were free, Mr. Thirty Days wasn’t what she’d want in a guy.
“You’re so far off in space, I don’t think the Hubble telescope could find you. What are you thinking?”
Ronni refocused on the woman across the table. “Um...” Her face warmed. “Beating Hayden if anything happens to my son.”
“Uh-huh.” Skepticism tinted Amelia’s response. “Might have been about Hayden, but that dreamy expression didn’t seem to indicate beating. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. And I don’t think he is.”
The flush intensified. “It’s not like that.”
