Smoldered

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Pete nodded, pulling his mouth in that way he always did when he was embarrassed. “He has been. When he heard Natalie had a baby, he kept a watch. He knew the boy was a Peterson. He also knew you didn’t know, so he made it his business to keep an eye on the kid.”

  I roared. That didn’t even make sense. “How? I didn’t even know I had a dad or a kid, and yet he knew all this? Everything? Mike told me you heard about Quinn from one of the Tunnel girls.”

  “He wanted to protect your son, look over him in a way that he didn’t do for you,” Petey said, still relying on the wall for support.

  I opened my mouth, but I was speechless. Nothing came out. Look over him?

  Trying to gather my shit, I watched Natalie touch her neck, fingering the charm resting in its small hollow. She shook her head and breathed her thoughts out loud. “No, it couldn’t be. This was from your dad?” Her gaze was on Petey, the question directed toward him.

  “Yes.”

  “But how? I was so discreet.”

  “That’s a question for your mom and our dad.”

  “My mom? That’s impossible. She doesn’t know anything about this,” Natalie said as she slipped down to the marble, her cheeks flush with heat.

  “You were why I was at the Tunnel, Natalie. When Asher took you away from the Leop, we lost our eyes on you. Ryan, the head bartender at the Leop, he was a buddy of mine. So I applied for a job with Asher and kept tabs on you and the boy for the last five years. It doesn’t excuse me, but it explains why I was so hard on you. When you left for Florida, my dad went nuts. He was climbing the walls with worry for Quinn. Then I got hurt and Dad was scared it could have been Ash, so he freaked the fuck out. Now he wants to come clean. Know you, his son, and grandson.”

  Petey had moved in closer, standing over Natalie, but he couldn’t get down on the floor with her. He stood hovering over her, watching what was mine, the depth of how well he knew her showing all over his face—something he’d been doing for half a decade.

  And I both loved and hated the fucker for it.

  Rainbow Bright

  Natalie

  I HEARD Asher ask Petey to leave, telling him it had been enough for one night, before I felt him lifting me off the floor. He carried me up the stairs and laid me down on his bed. It was only the fifth time I had been in his bedroom, but I was pretty certain I’d experienced every feeling along the continuum in there. From unadulterated bliss to rage and venom, from sheer confusion and madness to despair, Asher’s bedroom had seen a myriad of my emotions. Like a rainbow on a confused day—sunny but wet—the memory of experiencing each emotion came flooding back in this perplexed moment.

  The pillow welcomed the weight of my head as I allowed the soft, billowy puff to take me in and envelop me like a cloud, stealing the weight of my problems. Soft light filled the room as Asher turned the bedside lamp on and lay down by my side. He turned me to the side and spooned me, his warm breath ghosting across my neck. I didn’t speak, just felt my curves sink against his hard frame.

  “Nat, doll, I know we have a lot to discuss. I’m going to play it your way this time, but first I got to know you’re going to stop these games. They’re burning me up, killing me. I need you in my life. All the time, full-time, each and every day. And I’m gonna make decisions for you and it’s not gonna be easy to stop, because I missed all those years when Quinn was young and innocent and breakable. I need to make up for that somehow. Please get that.”

  I settled closer against him, if that was possible. My motivation wasn’t sex driven or lust induced. It was pure love. I needed to feel him against me.

  “I’m done playing, Ash. I’m so sorry for all that I put you through. I just think I’ve tried for so long to convince myself you didn’t want me that I couldn’t believe it when you said you did. Now I do. I want you too, every day, full-time, and all that comes with it.”

  He lifted my hair and kissed the back of my neck, his lips lingering along my skin, leaving a trail of warmth that traveled all the way to my toes.

  With Asher at my back, his breath hot on my skin, his fingers digging into my hips holding me tight, I found myself relaxing. I drifted off to sleep, experiencing yet another emotion within the four walls of this bedroom.

  Contentment.

  Sleepover Party

  Asher

  NOT WANTING to force Natalie to talk, I allowed her to lie there in silence. Forcing myself to be patient, I relaxed, taking in the sound of her breathing, feeling her pulse beating next to me, keeping her tight against my frame with a firm grip on her hips, and wondering when this would all settle. But I knew better than to steal the woman from her thoughts.

  We both must have dozed, so when my cell phone rang, I startled. It was Lila letting me know Quinn wanted to come home. The sound of my son calling my house “home” woke me the hell up. Fast. I kissed Natalie before rushing downstairs to open up for him.

  Not bothering to ask Natalie if she wanted to stay over, I made the decision for her. I told her I was going to do that from time to time—or all the time—I couldn’t help it. Tonight was supposed to be Quinn’s sleepover and it was practically the middle of the night already, so there was no way I was letting my family leave.

  As I walked Quinn up the stairs to his new room, he asked the question that everyone was thinking, but no one was brave enough to say out loud. “Dad, did you figure out how that man knows me? I mean, I know he’s your dad, but I didn’t even know you and you didn’t know him, so how does he know me?”

  When we reached the top step, I turned to face my son. With my hand on his shoulder, I said, “I didn’t yet, Quinn, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it. You don’t have to worry about it.”

  He leaned in for a hug, and I obliged. I would hug the kid forever if he would let me.

  Just as I was getting ready to shut the light on the navy bedroom, Natalie appeared in the doorway. Her eyes surveyed the scene, taking in the new-furniture smell and the TV complete with gaming system along the wall, before they started to well up. The tears didn’t fall, just filled her eyelids with wetness glistening in the night. I watched her chest rise and fall with emotion, and again, knew better than to steal her moment. I was learning.

  I was right. She walked toward the bed and sat down on the edge, running her hand through our son’s hair, speaking in quiet tones while I took in the moment from across the room.

  “You okay, Quinn, baby?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Leaning in, she kissed our son’s forehead. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m going to fix it. In the meantime, you have sweet dreams in this awesome room. I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier.”

  “’Kay, Mom.”

  One more kiss to his forehead and Natalie was walking toward me. She flicked the light off, pulled the door partway closed, and walked straight back to my room. Who was I to question that?

  I WOKE early, which was unusual for me, but there was shit that needed my attention. And I also wanted to be up when Quinn woke up. It would be something I’d never experienced before—my son sleepy and groggy coming down to my kitchen for breakfast.

  Making a pot of coffee, I grabbed my phone to contact the two people who had answers. I didn’t care that he was recuperating or up late, I texted Pete and told him to get our sorry excuse for a dad over to my place. Then I called Nat’s mom, Ellie, and she answered as though she was expecting the call. I instructed her to get the hell over here. Clearly neither of us were in the mood to chat, so we hung up after I curtly gave her directions.

  I poured two mugs of coffee, putting milk and sugar in one, and went back upstairs to Natalie. On the way, I looked in Quinn’s room, peeking through the tiny crack his mom left in the door. He was still asleep. Good.

  When I entered my bedroom, I found the bed empty. Taking a quick look around, I found Natalie in the bathroom, washing her face. She looked up as soon as I appeared.

  “Good morning. I brought coffee, doll.”


  “Hey. Morning.” She walked toward me, her body language timid, which wasn’t at all like her.

  “What? You okay?” I asked, setting the coffees on the sink.

  “Yeah, just making sure you still want all this,” she said, waving her hand around.

  “Every fucking second of it, Natalie,” I answered before handing her a mug and bringing her in carefully for half a hug while we held our mugs.

  I kissed the top of her head before warning her, “I called your mom. Told her to get her ass over here.”

  She nodded.

  “And my dad. We need some answers.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Doll, don’t thank me. It’s what I should have done when we first got back. Made peace with my dad. Figured shit out.”

  That was the end of that because Quinn half-knocked, half-entered the room, obviously unsure of what to do with the two of us sharing a room. Something else we would have to deal with—later—because there was breakfast to make at the moment.

  Showtime

  Natalie

  AFTER GETTING dressed, I came downstairs to find my son sitting on the very same granite counter I sat on months ago while sharing a plate of eggs with Asher. Taking it all in—the man cooking, wearing old jeans and a black T-shirt, comfortably working in the kitchen, making his kid breakfast—I felt like an imposter in a life that up until two months ago wholly belonged to me.

  And I didn’t mind.

  Quinn was eating bacon, chatting mindlessly with father, when the doorbell intruded. Why couldn’t I just watch them for a few more moments?

  “Hey, Quinn baby, we have to have an adult talk with your grandma. Do you mind playing a video game for a bit? I can grab you when we’re done,” I asked my son, knowing full well who was on the other side of the door.

  “Sure, Mom,” he said as he jumped down from the counter, then turned to his dad and asked if he could take his juice upstairs.

  “Q, you can do whatever you want here. This is your house as much as it is mine,” Asher said, and my heart splintered with all the mistakes I’d made over the last two months. I felt weak, paralyzed with remorse, and sick that I almost threw this whole life away.

  God, my kid was such a good kid too, as he made his way up the back staircase while the man of the house went to get the door.

  “Hello, Ellie,” I heard Asher say at the door. “Nat’s in the kitchen.”

  My mom said nothing in response to Asher’s greeting.

  She rounded the wall into the kitchen and stopped, frowning at me as she said, “I told you a long time ago, Natalie, this life…being a mom to his kid…would never be easy. You simply wouldn’t listen to me, always chasing after him, waiting on the sidelines for whatever sloppy seconds he would toss you. Can’t say I didn’t warn you about Asher Peterson. That guy gets all his bad shit from his momma.”

  I refused to let the dreadful tears come. I fisted my hands at my side and willed myself to remain neutral while my whole existence was being shred to pieces by my very own mother, no less.

  Before Asher could blow up at her, I said, “Well, there wasn’t much you could do about it, was there? We were all lumped together day and night while you and your cronies worked the casino crowd and partied hard whenever you pleased.”

  My mother flung her hand to the side, her long red nails knifing through the tension in the air. “Pfft. We deserved to blow off some steam. After all, we had to earn a living and raise our daughter, unlike his skank of a mom who whored herself around. It’s why Nash up and left while she was still pregnant.” As she spoke, my mother jerked her head toward Asher. At least she was smart enough not to get physically close to me or him, remaining glued to the wall separating the kitchen from the hall.

  Asher had wound his way around her, maintaining a safe distance, obviously aware of his own feral instincts, to settle by my side.

  “Ellie, I think we’re the ones with the questions, and you should probably shut the eff up before I throw you the hell out of here,” he demanded as he ran his hand over the back of his neck, obviously struggling to control his temper.

  At his words, my mother turned her glare on him. “Asher, this can’t be easy, but I never wanted your shitty life to rain down on my daughter and that’s all it’s ever done. She loved you like a sick puppy for her whole youth and the way I see it, the first time you threw the dog a bone, you knocked her up. For reasons that still remain a mystery to me, she protected you, never fessed up to you being the father of her child. At first, I was behind that choice, because who the hell wanted you to be a part of their family. But lately I thought to myself…look at that son of a bitch making bank, watching my daughter get naked for a crowd full of strangers night after night when he should be paying for her to be home with their kid.”

  “Mom! Stop!” I pleaded. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you love Quinn? You’re destroying his father and you don’t know anything.” I stared at the woman who I used to think was pretty and saw nothing but weathered skin full of wrinkles and lies.

  Asher stood stock-still, apparently shocked into silence.

  “I know that a few months ago,” my mother went on, “the father of your child found out he had a kid for the first time, and when he finally brings you home, you’re stripping again. God, it’s like you’re just like her—”

  “Stop!” Asher yelled as he started pacing the floor, slashing a hand through the air for emphasis as he spoke. “Enough, Ellie. I don’t know what you’re getting at and I don’t owe you any explanations, but I certainly didn’t want Nat fucking going back to work. We were working out some shit. But you gotta put an end to comparing her to my mom. I barely knew the woman, but seems like you did—pretty well, in fact. So, start talking about what we asked you to come and talk about. And stop being a bitch or I’m gonna toss you out. Last warning.”

  She took a step forward and then moved back again to lean on the wall, crossing her arms over her chest before she spoke. “Your mom, Celia, was my best friend growing up. She was stunning, gorgeous, and every boy wanted her. Except for Nash Peterson. He was the neighborhood bad boy and your mom’s biggest conquest. He was older by a few years and she pursued him with a vengeance.”

  My mom ran her hand through her poorly-dyed hair, the gray peeking through the brown, and pulled her head back a little before she continued. “God, she would put on these skimpy little outfits and spend all her time chasing after Nash. He finally gave in and started seeing Celia. He wasn’t serious at first, had a whole stable of girls. A Monday night girl, Tuesday night one, and so on. But Celia was determined and she got him hook, line, and sinker when she started fooling around with another guy, pretending to do it behind his back, but knowing full well he got a whiff of it. Nash got insanely jealous and gave up all his other girls for her. I should know,” she said as she pinned her gaze on Asher. “I was always the Friday night one.”

  Asher had stopped pacing and was in a standstill next to me, gripping my shoulder, giving me all his weight. I feared he might collapse.

  “Oh, poor you, so this is all about you, Ellie? You didn’t get the bad boy and my mom did? That’s why you messed with all our lives? What happened next, do fucking enlighten me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse with pain.

  “She got your dad, but couldn’t give up the other men. It’s like a switch flipped in her. Nash always thought maybe mental illness or something, she craved the constant attention of men, almost needed it to survive. The two of them were living together when she got knocked up, and your dad couldn’t stand the idea of the baby not being his, so he left. After you were born, we all knew he was the father. The hair, the eyes, you were pure Nash. And of course, she named you Asher, a constant reminder to all that she was the one who beat down the man everyone said couldn’t be conquered.”

  “Oh my God.” I gasped, covering my mouth.

  Asher bore down more on my shoulder.

  “Babe, you’re hurting me,” I had to whisper in his ear.


  He stared at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nat.” He picked me up, turned me around, and held me to him, crying in my neck, whimpering like a little boy who’d lost his mother. Something he probably should have done years ago.

  “Didn’t you tell Nash, Mom? Call him and explain about Asher being his son?” I asked, not understanding how this secret could have lasted over three decades.

  My mom looked away, unable to meet our eyes. “I did. He couldn’t come back, though. Celia was turning tricks at this point, which is why all of us began looking after Asher, including him in our gang, and Nash couldn’t bring himself to live with his woman hooking on the side. It was a sorry excuse, we all knew, but he wanted nothing to do with Celia…and Asher, I’m sad to say, was an extension of that. And because of that crazy, insane woman and her inability to stop parading around, I couldn’t see Nash. Not seeing him every day, but caring for his bastard kid instead. It was like a knife slicing through me.”

  My mom didn’t get to finish because the door opened and in walked Nash, Petey by his side. Asher ran by me so fast, I saw stars. He ran toward his father and sucker punched the old man, whipped him straight into the wall behind him. Petey broke the old man’s fall, bad leg and all.

  “You fucking deserted me,” Asher choked out. His heart was cracking so loud, we could practically hear it, the pain visible on his face, his gorgeous features shredded.

  Nash fell to his knees and sobbed. “I know. I know I did. But Celia—never mind, there are no excuses. But when Ellie called me that day and told me Natalie had a baby and it was yours, I tried to find a way to redeem myself. I didn’t get why, but for some reason Ellie said you weren’t to know about the boy. So I looked out for him, made sure Natalie was well-compensated at the Leop, placed Ryan there as a bartender to watch after her until you came back on the scene. I’ve been hoping for five years that you’d find out you had a son.”