Indifference of Heaven

by Tymber Dalton

  “Ha! They disowned her when they found out she was pregnant. Literally bought her a bus ticket back to Grand Forks, told her not to let the door hit her where the good lord split her, and to not show up on their doorstep again unless she was married to her baby’s father. That last part they left a little iffy, because apparently they would have accepted marriage to anyone.

  “But she loved you, asshole. Imagine her surprise when she returned to Grand Forks and found out you were gone.”

  She waved her hands in front of her. “Poof.”

  When she next spoke, she sounded like a caricature. “She was sixteen goin’ on seventeen, aye? On ’er own and desperate, aye, she was. She had no fuckin’ clue how to ask dem dere military folks for help, ya see. She ended up in Fargo, dontcha know, aye? Ya, youbetcha.”

  Ella scowled and dropped the accent. “Met a woman who worked for a church school who took her in and got her a job. She had me. Worked her ass off. Friend of hers from high school ended up moving out to Oregon when I was in junior high and asked if Mom wanted us to come with and share expenses, and Mom said yes. That’s where we were living when she was killed. Only by then the friend had flaked out and we were on our own. Again. Correction—I was on my own.”

  Stunned and horrified, he stared at her, clueless as to what he was supposed to say, or do. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Obviously.” She sat back and stared at him.

  “I mean…I…” He was still trying to process he had a daughter. That she was his he had no doubt. He wouldn’t insult her intelligence trying to deny it or demanding DNA proof, unless she thought she’d try to extort money out of him that he didn’t have.

  On top of that, that Helen was…

  Dead.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” he softly said again. “If I’d known…” He sat back and his gaze fell to the table. “I’m sorry. I know my parents would have…” He sighed, feeling old and a deep, unnamable ache throbbing inside him. “I’m so sorry.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them for several long, struggling moments. “Yeah, well…I’m sorry, too. She was a great mom. She loved the fuck out of me.” She angrily brushed at her eyes and sniffled. “She fucking deserved better than she did, from my grandparents and from you.”

  He slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He could barely breathe, barely talk. “She did.”

  Ella looked like she wanted to say something, then angrily shoved herself out of the booth. He tried to go after her, but she turned and held out a hand. “No. Just…no.”

  He watched her practically run out of the restaurant. He finally collapsed back into his seat, his mind swirling and spinning, struggling to comprehend this new knowledge.

  * * * *

  Boyd couldn’t drive Ella’s voice from his head.

  Dead?

  A daughter?

  Fuck me.

  After Ella left, Boyd sat there, stunned, until Larry showed up.

  Larry immediately frowned as he slid into the booth, where Ella had occupied the seat just a short while earlier. “What’s wrong?”

  There was no easy or tactful way to say it. “I just found out I have a twenty-one-year-old daughter, and her mother is dead.”

  Larry frowned as he stared at Boyd, then leaned forward. “If this is a prank you really need to work on your technique, because it sucks.”

  Boyd shook his head. “It’s not a prank.” Boyd met Larry’s gaze. “We just talked. Before you got here. I…she tracked me down, found out about me being kinky, and pretended to be interested in rope to get to know me. Told me she wanted to meet with me to pick my brain about shibari.”

  “What? Well, what does she want?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far before she left.”

  “You told me you didn’t have any kids. How do you even know she’s yours? I thought you hadn’t been with any women?”

  “I…in high school, just once, one girl. I told you that.”

  “And you knocked her up and are just now finding out about it?”

  He slowly nodded. “Her mom died five years ago, when Ella was sixteen. Car accident.”

  “Why’d she wait until now to track you down?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  Larry leaned in and dropped his voice. “How’d she track you?”

  “Facebook, then over to FetLife.”

  Larry sat back. “So…let me make sure I’m understanding you correctly. You’re saying she knows you’re kinky?”

  “I’m open, you know that.”

  “So, what, she just showed up, said she’s your daughter, and…why? What does she want from you?”

  “I…I don’t know. She left. I tried to follow her and she told me no.”

  Larry studied him for a long moment before speaking. “Yeeeaaah, I’m going to have to tap out, sorry.” He moved to get out of the booth.

  “What?”

  “You might be open, but I’m not. Most of my family doesn’t even know I’m gay. Sorry, but I have no desire to be revenge-outed to them, or at work, or be linked by her to someone kinky, all because she’s pissed off Daddy wasn’t there to tuck her in and read her bedtime stories when she was a kid, and she decides to burn your life down and take mine with it.”

  “What?” He knew Larry was private, but not that he was still deep in the closet to his family and his employer.

  Larry had already slid out of the booth. “Sorry. You’re a great guy, and you’re hot, but you’re too nice and trusting. I can’t afford to get caught up in some sort of revenge plot and have my name splashed all over. Not to mention, I told you when we met that I don’t want kids. You told me you didn’t have any kids, that you didn’t fuck women, and now I’m finding out you have a kid?”

  “I told you I slept with a girl in high school.”

  He waved that away. “Irrelevant now. That’s one dangerous loose end waving around out there, and I’m not getting caught up in it. You’re too fucking nice, Boyd. She’s going to throw your life in a woodchipper. Why else would she show up this many years later? I wish you well, but you’re on your own. No hard feelings, and good luck with all that.”

  Stunned, Boyd watched him walk out.

  It felt like the second gut-punch in a row.

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. Maybe I’m stuck in a nightmare.

  He bitterly laughed at the irony that everyone had some sort of nice-guy opinion of him, even the people who knew he was a sadist.

  If only they knew about Kent’s parties.

  Chapter Six

  Boyd sat at his desk early Thursday afternoon and stared at his computer. He just…couldn’t get Ella out of his mind. He’d called her last night after arriving home from his disastrously truncated date with Larry, and had tried again that morning. He even left a voice mail for her both times to please call him, that he’d like to talk to her, but…

  Silence.

  Not that he blamed her.

  His next step would be trying to contact her through Fet or Facebook, but he’d prefer to actually talk to her, like a human being.

  He wasn’t sure what she wanted, though. Yeah, of course he would like to get to know her, if she was open to that. She was his daughter, for fuck’s sake. Why else would she go through all the trouble of tracking him down?

  Although based on her demeanor, and what she’d said, he wasn’t sure she wanted to get to know him better.

  It left him feeling shitty that she’d been through such hell, alone, when he could have been there for her.

  Left him feeling even shittier she’d grown up and he’d never even known she was alive. All the things he missed out on with her.

  All the things poor Helen had to deal with alone.

  Had he just known about Ella. He’d never really wanted to be a father or had plans for it, but he felt heartsick that Ella had grown up without him and never knowing he would have been there for her had he known about her.
<
br />   Would have loved her and helped raise her.

  Would have taken care of her, and her mother, even if his relationship with Helen would have been doomed, eventually. He never would have turned his back on Helen in this situation.

  He would have helped her.

  He wouldn’t have been…indifferent. He would have owned his responsibilities. He also knew damn well his father and mother would have helped him take care of them. Would have doted upon a granddaughter.

  Goddammit.

  When his personal cell rang, he grabbed and answered it so fast he didn’t look at the screen first. “Hello?”

  “Heeeey, there. How’s my favorite sadist?”

  Kent.

  “Um, hey.”

  “Wow. That’s not the greeting I expected.”

  “Sorry, I’m at work.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m…fine. What’s up?”

  “Still on for Saturday night, right?”

  He thought about canceling, then checked himself. Maybe exactly the thing he needed was a distraction. Otherwise, he knew what he’d do to himself—sit alone at home, probably drink, and spend the weekend berating himself for being a shitty human being.

  “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “Great! I just finished talking with the newbie again. Had lunch with him up in Sarasota and I’m on my way home now. He’s really eager and fired up. Also wanted to let you know we’re going to change the start time Saturday to four. One of the other guys, a family thing they had got cancelled, so he can get there earlier.”

  Boyd couldn’t focus on this right now. “Four. Got it. Looking forward to it.”

  “Also wanted to extend the offer that if you want to spend the whole night with him, he’s not busy on Sunday. You’re welcomed to stay over all night.”

  “You remember the part where I said don’t get your feelings hurt if I don’t hit it off with him, right?”

  “He’s adorable, Boyd. Come on, he needs someone like you. I don’t like to break my toys, you know that. I have a good feeling about this guy. He’s your fucking unicorn.”

  Boyd rubbed at his forehead, a headache threatening. “There is no such thing.”

  “Sure there is. Look how well you, Tim, and Paul hit it off.”

  And Tim and Paul were married, meaning he could remain emotionally indifferent, even as he enjoyed them in bed.

  Not to mention they’d been fucked by Kent’s monster and were ruined for normal cock. They’d crave that thing.

  Then there was the fact that he wasn’t poly, and he wasn’t an emotional masochist. Having sex with others when unattached was different than being in a committed relationship. And when it came to a relationship, he didn’t share or swing.

  “I thought you were supposed to be in Miami?”

  “Got back this morning.” Kent giggled. “Got an early start after cramming in one last fuck with Paul. Heh.”

  “So how’s Tim and Paul doing?”

  “Tim’s already saying he wouldn’t mind trying again. He’s a real trooper. Heh. Paul’s whistling in the wind if he wears loose shorts after being with me since Saturday, but man that kid can fuck.”

  “He’s thirty-six.”

  “Seriously? I thought he was like thirty, tops.”

  “That’s what I thought. I asked him. He’s a year older than Tim.”

  “No fucking shit? Wow. Lucky bastard. I wish I looked that good at his age. I can’t remember ages. I can barely remember names. Damn sure can’t remember jobs and shit like that. He’s over twenty-one and neg when I sign off on him, that’s all I care about, and the rest don’t matter. I have more important things in my life to keep track of than to make what’s supposed to be a fun hobby too much like work. That means you’re definitely in Saturday, right?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there, but I need to get back to work.”

  “Oh, yeah. Heh. Sorry. Later!”

  Kent was definitely a big kid, in some ways.

  X-rated and kinky ways backed by a big bank account, but still a big kid.

  And yes, Boyd really did need to get his mind back on his work and focus. He had a staff meeting that afternoon he needed to prepare for. He reported directly to the head of Planning and Zoning, and was the head of the county’s planning department, overseeing twenty-five planners, in addition to more than a dozen other support personnel.

  They were preparing for an important county commission workshop that was only a few weeks away. They had to make several presentations to the Board of County Commissioners about comp plan changes the commissioners wanted to discuss, and his people needed to be ready. Today’s meeting was about checking the status of his people’s progress and making sure everyone was on track, especially when they had to coordinate with a couple of other departments in the process, like Zoning.

  He turned at the sound of a knock on his open door to find Caleb Prevost, the newest planner on his staff. He’d recently moved to Sarasota from Virginia when Boyd hired him a couple of months earlier. Twenty-nine, about six inches shorter than his own six one, slender, and fucking adorable.

  Except Boyd was his boss, and he had no clue if Caleb was gay or not. No ring, but that didn’t mean he was single, even if he did happen to be gay or bi. Which, with Boyd’s current string of luck, the guy probably wouldn’t be.

  Still, nice wank fodder for him.

  Especially with his intense green eyes, bordering on emerald, in the right light.

  “Come on in,” Boyd said. “Whatcha need?”

  “I just got back from lunch. Before I get buried again, can I go over some stuff with you before the meeting?”

  “Sure…”

  Twenty minutes later, Caleb was returning to his cubicle and Boyd caught himself watching the guy’s ass in his khakis as he left his office.

  Shit.

  That was dangerous territory. He needed to keep it strictly confined to his fantasies in his own bed, not let his guard down for a minute at work.

  At least it was a nice distraction that could help keep his mind off Ella.

  * * * *

  Speaking of…Ella still hadn’t returned his calls by the time he returned home from work that evening.

  Was he too nice?

  Did she have some sort of nefarious plot?

  Was Larry right, and he was setting himself up for something really bad on the back side of this revelation?

  Was she going to try to burn his life down? Not that the county would care he was gay and kinky.

  He didn’t work with kids, he didn’t have a morals clause, and he was a civil servant, not a politician. No one would care he was kinky.

  That was kind of the point of his life, unfortunately. A dreary, indifferent punctuation on top of everything else.

  No guy in his bed, a guy just for him.

  A daughter, who he just learned about, and who apparently didn’t want him.

  Add on to that his guilt over Helen, and what she went through. Alone. Guilt he was still trying to process and absorb.

  Getting drunk tonight was a very tempting option. He’d walked into the kitchen to explore what kinds of liquor he had in stock when his personal cell phone rang.

  Hoping maybe it was Ella—or perhaps Larry admitting he’d been rash and wrong—he grabbed it…

  And the number, while from Sarasota, wasn’t coming up as a saved contact.

  He answered anyway, in case it was Ella. “Hello?”

  “Um…hello? Hi. Sorry, hi. Boyd? Boyd Nyberg?”

  The voice sounded familiar, kind of. “Yes?”

  “Hi, it’s Caleb. Prevost. From work?”

  Recognition aligned and snapped his brain into work mode. “Oh, yeah. Hi. Sorry, I don’t have your number programmed into my personal cell.” Boyd returned to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. “What can I do for you?”

  “Your…oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I thought I hit the one for your work cell.” He sounded adorably mortified.

  “Ca
leb, it’s all right. What did you need?”

  “I have a question about one of the reports I’m working on…”

  And that led to a forty-five-minute call, where Boyd left the liquor cabinet standing open and powered up his work laptop so he could access the county’s system and reference what Caleb was talking about in real time.

  Once the call ended, Boyd stared at his phone and then added Caleb’s number to his contacts. It didn’t bother him he’d called him on his personal cell, because Boyd gave everyone who worked under him his personal cell number in case they needed him and he wasn’t answering his work cell.

  Sometimes reporters needed comments after-hours, or sometimes there were rare things that had to be dealt with on weekends, or commissioners had questions—all sorts of odd and weird stray items that sometimes couldn’t wait until he was in the office. And it had been important enough Boyd would rather deal with it tonight, if the guy was willing to be working after hours, so he could start the day off tomorrow having handled it already.

  It actually spoke well of Caleb’s work ethic and reinforced Boyd’s decision in hiring him.

  He returned to the kitchen yet again and stared at the open cabinet, the bottles in there.

  Tempting.

  Too damn tempting.

  He shut the cabinet and headed for his bathroom.

  I can jerk off to fantasies of fucking Caleb’s mouth.

  Especially now that he had the man’s voice stuck in his head.

  * * * *

  Friday morning, after a night plagued by bad dreams of Helen dying and before Boyd headed to work, he sent Ella a text message.

  If you don’t want any contact from me, please tell me, and I’ll leave you alone. Otherwise, I would like to talk to you. But I’ll wait for you to contact me. I’m sorry I didn’t know about you. I wish I had. I would have been involved in your life had I known. I would have been there for you.

  He wasn’t going to smother her with a flurry of messages, blow up her phone with texts.