Time for his Father Koenig mask as he smiled at her. “I’m friends with a lot of people.”
“Whas youw name?”
He refused to be rude to a toddler—much less blatantly lie to her when it would cause more questions with Etsu and Aden standing right the fuck there—and thought fast. “I’m Dr. Koenig.” He leaned over and extended his hand. “What’s your name?”
She shook with him. “I’m Kaywee.”
“Very nice to meet you.”
“You’we a doctoh wike Unca Niwall?”
It took him a moment to decipher her toddlerese, since it’d been over a year since he’d worked with children her age. “Yes. I’m a doctor like Niall. I work with him.”
Then an excuse hit him. He quickly nodded to Aden. “Sorry, I just remembered I needed to send one more form to HR this afternoon, and I got distracted before I could do it. I need to get—”
Well, it was technically home for now…
“—home and handle that.”
“Sure.” Etsu smiled. “See you guys tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you. Seriously, thanks again. You have no idea how grateful I am.”
Kayleigh waved. “Bye! See you and Zee-zee tomowwow, Doctuh Cowneg!”
“Good-bye, sweetheart.” She was fucking adorable, and he could see Connor’s eyes, Connor’s hair, his nose. Hints of the boy he’d belonged to a lifetime ago. She looked like the pictures he remembered seeing of Connor as a young child.
Heart pounding, he fought the urge to break into a run as he returned to the SUV. His hands trembled as he secured Zee’s carrier to the carseat base. Then he paused, took a deep breath, and checked it again to make sure he hadn’t screwed up.
I have to get out of here before he shows up.
Logistically, he’d have to find a new sitter sooner rather than later. Not only did he not want to impose, he couldn’t risk running into Connor.
Unless I try to approach him again.
It was only once he was away from their house and driving that he allowed himself to breathe easy once more.
God, why the Hell did You put him back into my path like this if the way is blocked?
He’d also need to talk to Niall alone tomorrow to ask why he hadn’t given him a heads-up. Douglas wasn’t about to assume this meant something bigger afoot, courtesy of the Almighty. It was a simple coincidence. Sarasota wasn’t a large city. He didn’t know how Connor knew Etsu and her men, but the fact that Connor trusted the triad around Kayleigh likely meant Connor had scoured every inch of their backgrounds and had probably known them well for a while.
He wouldn’t expect anything less from Connor, considering his history.
He blinked back tears, giving thanks, for once, for Zee’s young age.
It meant he could break down in front of her without having to explain why.
I will never claim to understand Your plans, God, but I have to tell You, this is a pretty shitty way to rip my heart apart on top of everything else I’ve been through. I’ve already hit rock-bottom. Please quit making me plumb new depths. Amen.
And this was one of the reasons he had Heavenly trust issues.
* * * *
Connor had a long and shitty Monday at work. One guy called in sick, another left sick after puking all over the service bay—and the interior of a customer’s car, meaning one really pissed off detail guy to try to soothe and talk into cleaning it—yet another drove himself to the ER because he hurt his hand working, meaning workman’s comp reports to file. Being three mechanics down started putting them behind and Connor almost thought he might have to actually grab some work clothes and start turning wrenches himself.
It was after six when he finally got out of there and made his way to Etsu’s. Niall and Aden’s cars were there, too. Kayleigh ran to greet him, throwing her arms around his legs and clearing Connor’s mind as he picked her up and kissed her cheek.
“Hey, Princess. Where’s your new friend?”
“You just missed them,” Etsu said. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“Her name is Zee-zee, Daddy!”
“Zee-zee, huh?”
Etsu handed him Kayleigh’s bag. “Mackenzie, but he calls her Zee.” Etsu smiled. “Kayleigh’s renamed her.”
A quiver of shock hit his system, but he wasn’t sure why, at first, until the context snapped into his brain. “Mackenzie?”
Etsu’s smile turned sad again. “He named her after his wife. I talked to the guys about maybe one day introducing him to Eliza, for her to work her matchmaking magic, but I don’t know if he’s a…” She glanced at Kayleigh. “Friend in common.”
“Ah.”
“He kinda wooks wike your fwiend, Daddy! He’s a doctuh wike Unca Niwall. His name is Doctuh Cowneg.”
“Doctor Cowneg, huh? You think everyone looks alike, sweetheart.” Which was true. Unless she saw someone nearly every day, like Niall and Aden and Etsu, she frequently swapped people’s names around or butchered them totally. He shifted Kayleigh’s bag on his shoulder. “Ready to go home and have some meatloaf?”
Kayleigh clapped. “Meatwoaf!”
“Sounds good,” Etsu said. “We’re having chicken. She had cheese and apple slices at four, so she’s probably ready for dinner.”
“Thanks. Where’s Ni and Aden?” He’d hoped to talk to Niall about fitting him in for an appointment. After yesterday, he realized he definitely needed one. He’d never gone into great detail with him before about Douglas, but he had started trying to work his way through some of his childhood trauma.
Maybe it was time to rip that scab off once and for all.
Especially now, that it was confirmed his deepest hopes could never come true.
She smiled and tipped her head toward the hallway. “Shower. Ni just got home a few minutes ago.”
He heard her deliberate use of air quotes around the word “shower.” “Ah.” Lucky bastards. “Well, tell them I said hello, and good-bye.”
She grinned. “Will-do. I’ll be joining them shortly.”
They said their good-byes. As he was getting Kayleigh buckled into her carseat, she yawned.
“Did your new buddy wear you out today, Princess?”
“She’s too widdle for me to pway wif yet.”
He’d almost forgotten about it by the time he got Kayleigh fed, bathed, and tucked into bed, and took his own “shower.” Except it wasn’t just air quotes. He stood under the hot water, eyes closed, and thought about rubbing one out…
Except Douglas’ grey gaze floated to mind, out of nowhere.
Didn’t he mention that name? Mackenzie? It wasn’t exactly a super-common name.
Was it?
It had to be either a coincidence, or he’d misheard him.
He fisted his cock and started slowly stroking when he heard Kayleigh’s voice in his head saying Zee’s dad looked like his “friend.”
The only “friend” of his she’d met lately was Douglas.
Doctuh Cowneg.
His pulse stuttered as he froze, his eyes popping open.
No, it had to be a coincidence.
Although, knowing Kayleigh as he did, he could totally see where Koenig could become Cowneg in her brain.
Except—
No. That was just too much wishful thinking on his part. It was also stupid thinking, and the truth was whoever the other guy Etsu was babysitting for was not Douglas.
Was. Not.
Period.
Couldn’t be.
Now totally out of the mood and with his cock hopelessly wilted, he finished his shower and crawled into bed before nine. Still, he lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Douglas showing up at his house and replaying their…
Interaction? It wasn’t exactly a conversation. Definitely wasn’t what he’d hoped for in terms of a reunion, even if he had kissed Douglas.
“I promised you, Sir. You told me if I ever needed you to show up on your doorstep and you would never turn me away.”
>
He rolled onto his side. Yeah, he remembered that vow he’d extracted from Douglas. Then there was 10:1, and—
Fuck.
That was…before. When he still had naive hopes and dreams about a reunion between them.
Before the man wore a wedding band on his left hand.
Before the man had become a fucking priest.
Yeah, if Douglas had showed up on his doorstep after having fucked his way through half the Army, he’d still have taken him back.
In a heartbeat.
There were a lot of betrayals he could forgive, but it was like Douglas had stuck a meat fork into his heart and twisted it after dumping a gallon of vinegar on it.
Fuck.
He replayed all the things he wished he could have said to him right there in his front hallway, a hallway where, a lifetime ago, he’d once had him naked and kneeling for him.
Except Kayleigh had woken up and he’d needed the man out of his fucking house before he lost his shit in more ways than one.
Connor rolled over and closed his eyes.
10:1.
Guilt flashed through him, along with the promise he’d extracted from Douglas.
No. That was years ago and we were both kids. I don’t need to talk to him again. There’s nothing else to say.
Not that he could talk to him, because he had no way of contacting him now.
Because whoever Etsu was babysitting for was not Douglas.
And he’d try to ignore the fact that he still loved Douglas and wanted to know why the fuck he’d betray him like that, by joining the very goddamned organization that had been the source of countless nightmares throughout his fucking life.
Chapter Eleven
If Connor thought he was going to have restful sleep that night…
Ha!
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Sucker.
His dreams were filled with Douglas, memories of how things had once been between them, and desires and wishes of the way Connor wanted things to be.
How, instead of slamming the door in the man’s face, he’d dragged Douglas inside with him.
The cruelly tantalizing long-shot hope that maybe the guy Etsu was babysitting for would turn out to be Douglas.
At one point he awakened and rolled onto his back again, his mind racing as he stared at the ceiling.
I can’t keep living like this.
The weekends at the Toucan were no substitute for a partner.
Every encounter left him feeling emptier on the back side of things, once he returned home and was able to actually…think. Something he shut out of his mind in lieu of being a dad and a responsible adult during the rest of his life.
Maybe I should try dating again.
Except…
Douglas.
Why the fuck did he have to come back now?
Why the fuck does he have to be married?
Why the fuck—and how the fuck—was he a goddamned priest?
He shoved out of his mind the expression of hurt Douglas had worn when Connor had rejected him. The sonofabitch had no right feeling hurt when a flash of joy so pure and brilliant had, for fleeting seconds, lit Connor’s soul just before being cruelly snuffed out again.
Douglas had no right to show up here when he apparently had a life of his own because, hellooooo, the guy Etsu was babysitting for was not Douglas.
Couldn’t be.
Absolutely not.
Because he refused to get his hopes up that maybe his boy could once again be his.
* * * *
Finally dropping off to sleep again did not provide Connor with any respite. His mind relived the last time he’d laid eyes on Douglas, their night together, the promise he’d extracted from his boy.
Relived the long, lonely nights after Douglas left, how he’d worked his ass off to make a living, to learn a trade, trying to help his mom make ends meet just to lose her, too.
His dad died.
His mom died.
Douglas left.
The Church—what a fucking joke that was.
The things and people supposed to provide the utmost love and comfort to him when he needed them most—poof.
Yes, Douglas needed to attend the college where he’d earned the scholarship. Connor got that.
He could have returned.
He could have written.
He could have done a lot of things.
But he’d become one of them.
Sure, he knew Douglas had always felt conflicted because of the bullshit the motherfucking Church had hammered into his head—gayness was bad—but Connor himself was living proof that the Church was full of goddamned hypocrites and liars of the worst order.
Their souls weren’t damned for being gay. Might be damned for being Catholic and living a double-standard, but if there really was a god, why would he make gay people and then turn around and damn them for what he created? The Church’s dogma came from men who crafted god in their eyes, not the other way around.
Connor didn’t buy into it anymore. Hadn’t bought into that faulty dogma in a lot of years.
But his gentle-souled boy obviously had.
Damn, I miss him.
* * * *
It was around four a.m. when Connor gave up trying to get any sleep. He grabbed his phone off his nightstand, unplugged the charger, and swiped open his Facebook app. Since Kayleigh’s birth, he’d posted very little about her, and never publicly. The only things he had posted of her were a couple of pictures of him with her, and those were set to friends only.
He typed Douglas Phillip Koenig into the search bar and felt his stomach clench. This was something he’d stopped himself from doing countless times already, because he knew just seeing a picture of the man would gut-punch him.
That he wouldn’t be able to handle the grief if he saw Douglas had moved on with his life without him.
Today, he clicked the button to search.
At the top of the search results was a picture of his Douglas, wearing a black shirt and a clerical collar.
Motherfucker.
He hated how his soul still cried out, wanting him. In the picture Douglas was clean-shaven, hair neatly trimmed. He knew it must have been taken at least a couple of years ago, compared to how Douglas had looked on Sunday.
Connor could still feel the way Douglas’ beard and mustache had felt against his own face as he’d kissed him.
The deep lines etched in the corners of his eyes.
The grey in his hair.
The grief on his boy’s face when he’d slammed the door shut.
Hands trembling, he tapped the search result and impatiently waited while it loaded. The most recent post on his profile was time-stamped Sunday morning, and Douglas was tagged in it. Originally, it had been posted from the account of…
Mackenzie Wallace Koenig.
And there were pictures.
Connor found himself blinking away tears as he swiped through the pictures, even before reading the text of the post. “Zee” was a gorgeous, albeit tiny baby. The woman had blue eyes, and Connor couldn’t help but jealously wonder if Douglas thought about him when he’d looked into her eyes.
He paused at the picture of her urn.
After angrily wiping away more tears, he read the post.
And that’s when his heart disintegrated.
* * * *
Connor shut off his alarm so it wouldn’t sound and climbed into the shower to cry, his sobs easily disguised by the sound of the flowing water. He sat on the floor, under the spray, and let the water rain down on him as he hugged his knees and rested his forehead on them.
10:1 beat through his brain, the words he’d written himself and had made Douglas memorize.
Guilt throbbed inside him with every beat of his heart.
Should he have let him talk? Should he contact him?
Should he go bang his fucking head against a brick wall?
Because, honestly, that was looking like a viable option at this
point.
Why did he have to become a fucking priest?
If he’d been anything else—anything—he’d get up right that minute and start trying to track him down. Hell, he’d call Niall and wake him up and ask for confirmation that Douglas was the baby’s father.
Were he anything but a priest.
Did he loathe what we had together so much he felt he had to become the thing I detested the most?
In his lowest times such as these, Connor had to most strongly resist the urge to “pray.”
Maybe it proved a comfort to others, but all it brought to him were really bad fucking memories that made him want to puke. The “praying” Father Moore made him do with him while the fucker destroyed his trust, his childhood, his faith.
Motherfucker.
At least that sonofabitch would never see the outside of a prison, until he was driven out of it in a hearse.
I can’t open myself to pain again. I just can’t. I’m not strong enough.
Every last ounce of strength he had needed to be spent on Kayleigh.
* * * *
Connor was able to get Kayleigh up a little earlier than normal, miracle of miracles. He’d already gotten himself ready, meaning he could focus on keeping her moving forward, having her dressed and in the car in record time for them.
Nearly twenty minutes early.
Meaning he would hopefully beat the baby’s father to Niall’s, and then be able to answer the question for himself.
Because he was still reasonably sure this was just a really funky coincidence, and maybe Douglas had moved back to Sarasota, but that was not his baby at Niall’s.
Despite all evidence to the contrary pointing to the fact that she was Douglas’ daughter.
His Douglas.
He damn sure wasn’t going to embarrass himself by asking, meaning he’d have to explain why he’d asked, or why it was such a big deal to him.
Or why he’d be so relieved—right?—to find out he was wrong.
Which, of course he knew he wasn’t wrong, but he was simultaneously really hoping he was.
All the while part of his soul cried and hoped he wasn’t wrong, that he might be able to have his Douglas back, even as he battled against the shame threatening to overwash him, that he’d turned his boy away when he’d needed him the most.
Come in From the Cold Page 10
