by Meg Harding
She stared at him, clearly confused.
Zander sighed. “Just come here.”
Like a prisoner to the gallows, she approached the chair. Cole covered his mouth to muffle his snicker. She’d definitely done something Zander would be hearing from this Maria woman about. He knew a guilty kid when he saw one.
Zander hunched over the island till he was eye level with her. “Cole—Mr. Whitaker—and I are dating. He’s going to be around more. Is that all right?”
Cole wondered what Zander planned to do if she said no.
“You won’t be around less?” she asked after a long moment of tense silence.
Zander scowled. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Savanah shrugged, small shoulders heaving. “S’fine then. Mommy dated all the time. I was a pain.”
Zander looked blindsided, and Cole’s heart ached for little Savanah. He raised his eyebrows at Zander. It was hard information to swallow, but he needed to say something soon. Savanah was searching for reassurance, and she was going to take Zander’s shocked silence as something else if he didn’t hurry up.
“You’re not a pain,” said Zander finally, voice rife with feelings. “You’ll never be one.”
“If you say so.”
Zander pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Cole was struck by the sight of the two of them so close together. Dark head to dark head, their black hair blending, Zander so much bigger than her. “I do say so.” Zander playfully shook her a little. “You come first. Always.”
And there went the last remaining wall in Cole’s heart, tumbling down in a landslide of melted pieces. How could he not still love this man? How could he not love him more? It was a terrifying realization.
He needed to sit down before his legs gave out.
“Cole?”
Cole cleared his throat. He hadn’t realized Zander had been talking. The world had ceased to exist there for a moment. “Yeah?”
“You wanna help with the cooking? I’m really not the greatest. But I mean, if you want your French toast burned….”
“Making me do everything, huh?” His tone was a little stilted, and Zander looked at him funny, but Cole waved him off. He was fine. It was all fine. Cole shoved his feelings into a box for the moment. Now was not the time. He went to make to the mix for the toast. He could still clearly remember the last time the L word had left his mouth in conjunction with Zander.
“I love you.”
Cole had imagined saying those words from almost the first moment he met Zander Brooks. They sat on the tip of his tongue, ready and willing to spill every time he saw him. He always thought, when he finally did say them, Zander would return the sentiment. He pictured Zander’s dark, sculpted cheeks growing duskier, his big brown eyes widening in pleasant surprise. He thought there would be whispered endearments and sweet kisses. Cole’s sixteen-year-old heart longed for such a response.
Instead Zander stiffened beside him before rolling away. His feet hit the floor, and his bare back faced Cole. “Cole,” he said, the name emerging weary and resigned. His shoulder’s hunched as he braced his elbows on his knees. The lean muscles in his back flexed, no doubt reflecting the frustration that would be etched on his face.
Cole’s stomach sank to somewhere around his feet. His eyes burned, and he had to reorient his gaze to the ceiling. He curled his fingers in the sheets by his side, an uneasy feeling crawling along his spine. Stubbornly, he said, “I do.”
Zander’s dark hair swayed as he shook his head. “That’s not what this is. That’s not how this works.”
The blanket pooled around Cole’s waist as he shot up, reaching for Zander. When his fingers grazed his skin, Zander bodily flinched. Cole retracted his arm, curling it over his stomach instead. “How can you say that?”
“What we have is far from love. It’s not permanent.” His voice was blank, devoid of any emotion. Zander stood, bending to retrieve his pants and then tugging them on quickly. Not once did he look at Cole.
Cole felt as if his ribs were collapsing on him, squeezing his insides too tight. He struggled to breathe through the constriction. Zander was just panicking. That’s all this was. He wasn’t used to genuine affection or the notion someone might want to stay. “I know how I feel. I love you.”
Zander yanked a shirt over his head—a worn thin Stones shirt which belonged to Cole. It was too small on him, straining around his biceps. “You think you do. You’re young, and I was your first. It’s understandable you got things confused.”
Rage battled with hurt in Cole’s chest. His lungs filled and emptied rapidly. “Excuse me?” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to sound weak. “You’re a year older than me, Zander. Don’t play the age card. Don’t give me half-assed excuses. If anything, I think I know my feelings better than you know yours.” Frustration made him see red. “Will you at least fucking look at me while you break my heart?”
It took a minute, one in which the room was filled with the sound of Cole’s harsh breathing, for Zander to turn. His expression was hard, the line of his lips thin and his eyes cold. “This isn’t my fault.”
That’s all he said. As if those four words made any sense. Cole gaped at him. Finding words was difficult. How had his evening gone so upside down? Not half an hour ago they’d been kissing, trading endearments and soft touches. And now…. “You’re what… breaking up with me? But it’s not your fault?” His volume rose at the end, incredulity pitching it high.
Zander pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes and making it appear as if Cole was seriously putting him out. “I thought you knew what we were. Your heart shouldn’t have been involved.”
Cole really needed to put his clothes on to have this conversation. Bunching the covers around his waist, he scooted to the side of the bed and then leaned to fish for his clothes. “I’m sorry that in and amongst you calling me babe and sticking your dick in me I got the wrong idea. Don’t know how that could have happened.” His temper was fast getting the better of him, bitterness biting into every word.
“You don’t understand,” snarled Zander, raking his hand over his hair.
“No,” agreed Cole. “I don’t.” His face was hot, the tips of his ears burning. A glance at his chest while he maneuvered his boxers up his legs revealed it to be splotched.
“We weren’t dating! You were just a fuck until one of us left. That’s how these things work.”
Zander might as well have punched Cole in his solar plexus. Just like that his temper fled, pure agony rushing in to fill the void. He had to hold onto the mattress to ground himself. “You need to go.” Cole was going to fall apart, and he didn’t want an audience. Especially not Zander.
“Cole.” Now Zander chose to soften his voice, to sound apologetic.
Cole thought he might be choking on the irony. “Go.”
“This is my room.”
Right. Zander’s father was out on a shift, and he’d invited Cole over while the other man was gone. Cole had gotten to come in the front door rather than through a window this time. Good thing Zander’s father hadn’t been around to hear this.
Robotically Cole got dressed, pulling on clothes haphazardly and avoiding eye contact with Zander. His Stones shirt would have to be a casualty, but he’d been sleeping with Zander for months. He had a few belongings scattered around the room. He was careful to make sure the shirt he picked was one of his. He didn’t want anything of Zander’s coming with him. He skirted around Zander once he was clothed, his vision blurry but the tears not yet falling. He wouldn’t cry in front of him. Cole had some dignity left.
He walked home in a haze, everything playing on repeat through his skull. Zander’s words rang in his ears.
Chapter 17
Zander was a fan of efficiency, which is why he’d opted for the special kind of torture that was sitting through therapy with Savanah—who wouldn’t talk to Cathleen without him—and then sitting through an additional thirty minutes of just him and
Cathleen.
“How’re you today, Savanah?”
Savanah sighed. “I don’t want to be here.”
That made two of them.
“Why not?”
Savanah squirmed to get comfortable on the couch. The cushions always looked like they were going to eat her. “You’re nosy.”
Cathleen smiled and laughed. “I am, aren’t I? Would you feel better if you could ask me some questions?”
Quizzing everyone else to death was Savanah’s favorite pastime. Zander tuned out a little as Savanah dissected Cathleen’s life to the best ability of a curious five-year-old. Where was she from? Did she like her job? Did she think school was a waste of time too? That one caught Zander’s attention, but Cathleen shook her head at him in a clear ‘don’t interrupt’ sign. He supposed there was some method beneath the madness.
Gradually Cathleen began to work her own questions in.
“What’s your favorite game?”
“Shoots N Ladders.”
“What’s one thing you like about school?”
“I like art time.”
“You like to draw?”
“And paint.” Savanah waggled her fingers. “We get to paint with our hands sometimes, and that’s my favorite.”
“That’s so cool. Do you ever paint anything specific? Like animals or trees?”
Savanah scrunched her pert nose. “No. I just—” She waved her hands around. “All over. Mr. Whitaker calls it abstract.”
“You mention Mr. Whitaker often. He’s your teacher?”
Savanah hummed agreement. “And he’s dating daddy.” She leaned forward, eyes wide and scandalized. “He spent the night.”
Cathleen gave him a long look, and Zander wanted to fidget but refused. He was an adult. He was allowed to have adult relationships and what they came with. “You like this man?” she asked Savanah.
There came the same shrug she’d given Zander when he’d told her. “Yeah. It’s different, though.”
“How so?”
“They won’t love me as much.”
Zander’s jaw dropped. He’d been over this with her. “Savanah, you know that’s not true.”
Cathleen ignored him. “Why do you think that?”
“Mommy dated all the time, and then she didn’t have time for me. I cramped her style.” She was clearly quoting her mother with that last line. Zander wanted to call the woman up and yell at her, leave a scathing message asking how she could do that to Savanah. He knew it wouldn’t solve anything. She never answered, and she never called back. “She left.” Her bottom lip started to tremble. “She wanted someone else and then she didn’t want me.” Savanah’s eyes overflowed, tears streaking her cheeks. “Daddy’s going to want Mr. Whitaker, and he’s going to leave me.” Tears turned to outright sobbing.
It was akin to being punched in the face.
He picked her up, gathering her close. She buried her head against his shoulder and he rocked her, rubbing her back and telling her over and over again that he wasn’t going to leave. He may not be the greatest dad, but he’d never give her up. He couldn’t. She was a part of him, and to hear her say things he’d thought since he was a child—everyone leaves, don’t get attached—was physically painful. His heart ached and he thought if he wasn’t holding Savanah together he’d be sick.
She shouldn’t have to think that way. He wouldn’t allow her to grow up like he had, believing everything and everyone was temporary. Ruining things because she was scared of being left. Zander’s entire life had been him running away from the intangible, from the maybes, and if he didn’t get his act together his daughter was going to follow right in his footsteps.
“Shh, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He bounced her a little, burying his face in her hair. Her shampoo smelled like strawberries. He’d come to associate the scent with her, since all her bath products smelled of them. She loved the smell, and without realizing it, the scent was starting to invade Zander’s home.
Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, hard enough to hurt but he wouldn’t unwrap them for anything. He’d let her squeeze all the breath from him if she needed to. When he glanced up it was to find them alone in the room, Cathleen having been kind enough to leave and give them a minute apparently.
He was, unexpectedly, grateful.
It had been incredibly naïve of him to think Savanah wouldn’t have lingering issues from her mother’s abandonment. He’d hoped she’d simply move on as he had thought he’d done as a child, and god he was so wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” he said to her, words muffled by her hair. “God, I’m so sorry.”
His shirt was soaked through on the shoulder, and he felt her rub her nose along the fabric. Slowly, so slowly, her sobbing turned to low crying and finally to sniffles. More nose rubbing followed.
He sat her back a little, when she’d gone limp and her shaking had stilled. He made sure to look her right in the eye. “I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m not going anywhere. When I say you come first, I mean it. I… I really like Cole. He’s very important to me. But he’s not more important than you. And you’re important to him too. Us dating just means if it works, then you have someone else who’ll love you a lot. Who’ll put you first. I’m not going anywhere, baby. It’s me and you ‘til the end, okay?” He meant every word to his core. He’d do whatever it took, whatever she wanted, to make her believe.
He was not going to be his father, and she was not going to be him.
She nodded, shivering. “You promise?”
He had a feeling he’d be promising her a lot. She didn’t yet trust that his promises were for life. “I promise.”
She swiped at her face with the back of her hand, and he tsked, moving her hand away to wipe away the tear streaks on her cheeks. “We need to get you a tissue, huh? It’s all going to be okay.”
She ignored him and swiped again. More sniffling followed. “Do you think mommy misses me?”
Savanah was gutting him. Zander sucked in a shaky breath. The things he thought of her mother he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—ever share with her. The woman had left her. Had signed away her rights and refused to have anything to do with them. She didn’t deserve Savanah. “I think she does. I think maybe she knew she couldn’t take care of you, and she wanted what was best for you.” He’d go to his grave making sure Savanah never felt unwanted, even if he had to lie his ass off for her mother.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that before Cathleen came back, two water bottles in hand. She gave one to Savanah—who clambered off his lap when Cathleen returned—and one to Zander. She talked about random things with Savanah for a few minutes, and then sent her off to the play area with the receptionist.
She looked, rather searchingly in Zander’s opinion, at him when Savanah was gone. He wondered if his eyes were red, if he appeared as broken as he felt. He crossed his arms and tried to pull the pieces of himself together.
“You know this doesn’t magically fix everything,” said Cathleen. “She’s going to come to you again and again for reassurance. It’s going to take time and lots of effort. It’s going to be grueling.”
“Don’t go easy,” he muttered.
Cathleen smiled, soft. “Savanah loves you. That she can acknowledge her fears is a good thing. It’s a first step. It’s going to be important you work with her. You’re going to have to be extraordinarily patient.”
“I know.”
She cocked her head, sinking into the cushion behind her. “How do you know?”
“I don’t—”
“Want to talk about it,” she said, finishing for him. “You and Savanah are very much alike.”
Too alike, he worried. “I’m a lot older than her. I’ve come to terms with my reality.” And his father was dead. It wasn’t like he could seek him out and gain closure. He didn’t have much choice but to move on and try, he’d try so damn hard, to be better.
“I gather you’re not close with your pa
rents.”
So Cathleen wasn’t going to let things go. Joy. Zander sighed. “No. My mother left when I was two, and my father died about seven years ago.”
“How’d he die—if you don’t mind me asking?”
He rolled his eyes. He did mind, and she didn’t care. “He was career army. That takes a toll after so long. He had a heart attack. ”
“And you weren’t close with him? Even though you followed his path into the military?”
Zander shrugged. His nails were biting into his arms. “It was the only thing I knew. I lived on bases growing up. I was raised by the people on them. It made sense to continue on with what I’d been trained to do.” His dad would have had a conniption if Zander hadn’t gone into the marines or some other branch of the military.
“And you’re gay.”
“I’m bisexual.”
“Sorry, bi. You’re bisexual. I imagine at the time that must have been a challenge?”
“I mostly ignored it. I like women too, and I didn’t want to deal with any backlash.” He hadn’t been strong enough to stand up to his father, he wasn’t going to stand up to the disapproval of his fellow soldiers should any find issue. He’d been afraid, he could admit it. And by the time it had been accepted—a loose term for what it was in reality—he’d felt it was too late. Not worth rocking the boat, so to speak.
“Now you’re dating a man. Your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. Is this the first real relationship you’ve had?”
The last thing Zander was going to do was delve into his history with Cole with her. “I had one when I was seventeen.” Though he hadn’t been able to admit it was indeed that for many, many years.
“How’d that end?”
“Like I thought it had to.”
Cathleen nodded. “So much like your daughter. And now—now that everything you viewed as holding you back is gone—how do you think things have to end?”
She was scarily perceptive, and Zander didn’t like it. Then again, this was probably why she got paid to talk to people for a living. “They don’t have to.” Saying it aloud was freeing, like a weight had actually been lifted from his chest.
