After Midnight

by Lacy Hart

  After Midnight

  A Small Town, Single Dad Romance

  By Lacy Hart

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  More Steamy Romance by Lacy Hart

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  Copyright © 2018 by Lacy Hart & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  1

  Caleb

  As soon as I had walked through the office door, I was hit with that all-too-familiar smell. It didn’t seem to matter what kind of doctor it was that I was seeing. Each office had that same sterile flavor to it, the same chairs in the waiting room, maybe even the same carpeting on the floors. Even the receptionists behind the plate glass sliding window started to seem the same to me. They all had a similar smile, condescending at times, as they nodded at me, handed me a stack of forms to fill out, and gave the sigh or eye roll when something was wrong, or you asked what they thought was an obvious question.

  I certainly didn’t relish being in any doctor’s office, but this doctor always made me the most uneasy. Physically, I was in good shape. There was nothing wrong with me other than the bumps and bruises that would heal and the scars that were reminders of events that had been. It was the mental aspect that everyone always worries about, more so now than in the past. I admit I have a lot to deal with, but I never felt like I needed to see a psychiatrist at all.

  When I was in the military, we did see shrinks after certain missions if the Army felt like what had happened was something we might need to talk about. The truth was I never wanted to talk much about what I saw or did. It was hard enough to deal with it the first time around, never mind bringing it up time after time with some doctor that didn’t know you or the situation at all. I usually brushed them off, gave them gruff or standard answers, and they just sent me on my way. Now that I was out of the Army and trying to deal with life, it all was different.

  My sister Linda kept pushing me, telling me I needed to talk to someone and get things sorted out. I know she only wants what’s best for me, or at least what she thinks is best for me, but I just can’t see how it is going to help me, my son, her, or anyone else for that matter, other than the doctor who gets to send a nice bill. I explained to her that there was no point and that the Army would insist on me seeing a doctor at the VA or at Womack Medical Center in Fort Bragg, but she was adamant I come to see Dr. Weber here in Swanson and that she would pay the bill.

  So, I sat in Dr. Weber’s waiting room, a small room with just a few chairs and the receptionist sitting there behind her glass wall, occasionally glancing up at me, trying not to be obvious about looking me over. I could feel myself tapping my left foot, a nervous tic I had picked up years ago, as I just sat there listening to the low tones of whatever soothing music was coming out over the speakers in the ceiling.

  I could hear my leather jacket squeak against the back of the chair every time I shifted a little in my seat. The longer I waited, the more I felt that this wasn’t right, and that I should bolt out of there. The smell of the office was starting to choke me, and I could feel sickness in my throat. Suddenly it was much hotter in the room than it had been just minutes ago, and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  I stood up and walked over to the receptionist window and rapped on the pane of glass. The woman glanced up at me from her keyboard, sighed, and slid the glass open.

  “Will it be much longer?” I said to her, trying to be as polite as I could under the circumstances. “My appointment was thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson,” the receptionist told me as she drummed her fingers on her desk. “Dr. Weber is a bit backed up today. He’ll be with you as soon as he can.”

  “I’ll just come back some other time,” I told her, feeling sick and frustrated.

  “You’ll still get charged for this visit if you leave now,” she told me in a scolding tone.

  “Of course I will,” I said with aggravation. I turned and walked out of the office anyway, rushing across the hall into the men’s room that was there. I felt like I would get sick and hovered right around the sink, hoping no one else would try to come in. After a few dry heaves, the moment passed. I looked into the mirror and could see my face was red, so I turned on the faucet and splashed some water on myself, hoping it would help cool me down.

  After a few deep breaths, I left the bathroom and exited the small office building and was back out on the street. Feeling the light breeze and the warmth of the sun on my face made me feel better right away, and I began to walk slowly along the sidewalk. I paid little attention to the storefronts I was passing, and even less attention to the people going by me. I was just glad to be outside.

  My sister Linda’s place was about a mile away, just off Oak Street, which is the main part of Swanson. Linda complained that ever since I had been home, I had been walking everywhere, leaving my practically brand-new Jeep under the car cover untouched. To be honest, I didn’t mind the walking at all. I was used to walking much further than the mile or so roundtrip I was doing here, and I really had no desire to get into the Jeep.

  It was only near the beginning of April, but the temperature here in Swanson was already warm in the early afternoon. The town was busy, even if the town itself had a small population. Swanson proper had just a few thousand people, but when Swanson College was in session just a couple of miles up the road, the population nearly doubled, filling the streets with teenagers and young adults looking to kill time, have fun, or who knows what else. College students were out enjoying the spring weather, laughing, smiling, skipping class and going about life without a care in the world.

  I turned off Oak Street and headed up Carson Court where Linda’s house was. The house was up a steep hill towards the end of the street. Linda had done well for herself, something I always knew she would do even when we were kids. She had gone off to law school, graduating from Duke with her degree, passed the bar and spent a few years practicing with a big firm in Raleigh before deciding to go into practice for herself. After some time in Raleigh, she decided to come closer to where I sort of was some of the time in Swanson, not far from Fort Bragg. She would be close to family since we only had each other at this point, and she kept an eye out on Adam, my son
, and Ella.

  Ella. Every time she crossed my mind, it made me stop in my tracks. I could see her face in my head, her blonde curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she smiled and laughed. She always had that smile on, and that one dimple on her left cheek that showed when she did, the first thing I noticed about her when we met all those years ago. That image of her is forever burned into my brain and closing my eyes and seeing her like that helped get me through some harrowing times over the years. Now there are times where that image haunts me.

  I shook my head back and forth, hoping to clear everything out of my skull, and walked up the long driveway towards the house. Since my return to Swanson about six weeks ago, I have been living in the apartment above the garage at Linda’s home. She had told me to come and live in the house with her, that there was plenty of room there, but I said no. I preferred the apartment she had there, space she no longer rented out so that I could have a space that was mine and my own entrance so I could come and go when I wanted.

  My son Adam was living in the main house, space he had been in for the last couple of years. Linda agreed to take Adam in while I was stationed overseas, allowing him to stay in the high school in Swanson without disruption. I didn’t want to disrupt Adam’s life and routine, especially since this was his senior year. The last thing he needed was a father in the house with him stirring around and keeping him off-balanced and worried. He needed stability, something I had never really been able to provide for him, and even less so since his mother passed away.

  I climbed the steps to my apartment and let myself in. No sooner had I tossed my keys on the counter when my cell phone was ringing. I didn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Linda. I sighed and pressed answer, knowing what was coming.

  “Hey,” I spoke to her before she could start in.

  “What’s going on, Caleb?” she said in an irked tone. “Arnold Weber just called me and said you walked out before even seeing him.”

  “I waited around for thirty minutes, Linda. The guy obviously had more important things to do.”

  “You know he’s seeing you as a favor to me, Caleb. The least you could do is try to be a little accommodating.”

  “I don’t need to see anyone. Everything is fine.” I knew as soon as I said it that this was going to open another can of worms.

  “Everything is not fine,” Linda said in a hushed tone. I could tell she was trying to control herself and not raise her voice in her office. “Caleb, it’s been six weeks since you have been home. You know how you have been acting, not just with me, but with Adam and with yourself. If you’re dealing with PTSD…”

  I cut Linda off right there. “I don’t have PTSD,” I yelled into the phone. “Why does everyone assume every vet that comes back has PTSD? It’s not imprinted on everyone when we come home. I’ve had a lot on my plate Linda; it just is taking me some time to adjust to everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” Linda said. I could hear the sincerity in her voice. “You know I’m just… I’m just trying to help is all. I’m worried about you, Caleb, and so is Adam. Arnold is willing to reschedule with you. He’s making time to see you tomorrow at 6 PM. He doesn’t even take appointments after 5, so you’ll be the only one there. There won’t be any delays or waiting. Please say you’ll go.”

  I was silent on the phone for a bit as I contemplated what to do. I didn’t want to go see him. I never wanted to go see him, but I knew it would make Linda feel better if I made an effort. I could go see the guy once, go through the usual routine, tell her it wasn’t going to work, and that would be it.

  “Caleb?” Linda questioned. “Will you go?”

  “Fine,” I muttered into the phone.

  “Thank you,” she replied with a sigh. “I’ll call Arnold back right now. I’ll see you later when I get home.”

  I hung up and tossed the phone back on the counter and sat at one of the barstools that were there. I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes, feeling tense again just about going back to Dr. Weber’s office. I needed something else to occupy my time so I wouldn’t think so much about it but finding that thing to keep me busy was proving to be difficult and elusive.

  After spending the last twenty years in the military with plenty to do nearly every hour of the day, all this downtime was starting to get to me. The first few weeks I was home I spent getting affairs in order, taking care of paperwork with the Army, meetings at Fort Bragg and so on. Even after that, some things needed my attention around here, things that I had put off or never had the time to deal with before. Linda spent a lot of time bringing me up to speed on everything, even letting me know what was going on with Adam with school, college applications, college visits and so on. She had taken on the burden after Ella died and I had gone back overseas, and she kept life running perfectly. Linda was always good at that, ever since we were kids.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was nearly three, meaning Adam was probably already home from school. I left the apartment and walked over to the back entrance to the house that led into the kitchen downstairs. I could hear music blaring from upstairs, signaling Adam was indeed there. I entered the kitchen and saw him rooting in the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He turned and looked at me, startled to see me there, and dropped his closed bottle on the floor. It bounced in a frenzy before spinning to a stop.

  “Geez Dad,” Adam said as he reached down to grab the bottle. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry,” I told him as I walked passed him to get my own bottle of water from the fridge. “How was school?” I asked, hoping to strike up a conversation with him.

  “Fine, the usual stuff,” he answered casually, twisting open his bottle of water and taking a sip.

  Since I had returned, I tried to find different ways to connect with Adam. I was never much of a talker myself, and because I was not around much, I honestly knew very little about Adam other than what his mother used to tell me or what Linda said to me. Trying to learn his interests, what he liked, what he didn’t, and who he was had become something of a necessity for me, but I hadn’t found my way in yet.

  We stood staring at each other for a moment, neither one of us sure of what to do next.

  “Well, I’ve got homework,” Adam said as he pointed his bottle of water towards the stairway.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said to him, taking a drink. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Adam strode off towards the stairs, taking long leaps. He had the long, tall frame that my father had, the kind basketball coaches drool over. Adam played on the high school team and was getting close to finishing up the season with Swanson High School. He was good enough that he had scouts coming around from colleges asking about him and Linda said he had gotten some pretty good offers from a few schools, which made me proud. He was smart, athletic, friendly, and caring – everything a parent could want in a child. Now only if I knew something about him.

  I took my bottle of water with me, left Adam to do his homework or whatever he was going to do, and went back over to the apartment. I sat on the sofa, flipping the channels on the TV with little to no interest in what was going on. The temptation was always there to switch over to one of the cable news channels and see what was going on overseas or with the military but looking at those things just reminded me of how I wasn’t part of that anymore, for good or bad.

  I turned the TV off and just sat on the couch, hearing nothing but the sounds of the birds outside. Even the quiet moments were not as relaxing as they should be. I always seemed to be listening for the less obvious, for what may not get noticed by everyone, so I was ready to react when it was needed. It was never going to be easy to get that feeling out of my system. Worse than that, the quiet left me alone in my own thoughts. Lately, nothing good ever came out of that. I turned the TV back on just to drown out the thoughts in my head. I let my mind get filled with infomercials, talk shows, reality shows and whatever else would fill the time between now and dinner with Linda and Adam.
<
br />   There must be more to life than this, I wondered, laying back on the sofa.

  2

  Sarah

  It was 2 PM, and while most of the world was just hitting the wall at work, waiting for the day to end, or kids were getting ready to end the school day, I was just getting up for the day. My alarm went off, and I sluggishly hit the snooze button, giving myself another 8 minutes of restful bliss before the alarm went off again. My record for hitting snooze was six, but I knew today I was going to have to pry myself out of bed before that could happen.

  I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, blinking the sleep from my eyes. I adjusted my eyes to the blurry patterns on the ceiling, and then reached over and grabbed my glasses and put them on so I could see things a bit more clearly. I propped some pillows behind me and sat up in bed, grabbing my phone, so I could check for any messages, read my email and basically kill time until I felt like getting out of bed.

  None of the messages were pressing, other than the reminder that I had to turn a paper in for one of my classes today. One of the great things about taking all online classes is that most of the time you have the flexibility of when you can listen to lectures, do assignments and get your reading done. This class on data security was fascinating to me, and I always jumped ahead, taking in as much information as I could and getting assignments done before they were due.