Everybody's Hero

by Karen Templeton

  On a half laugh, he shook his head. "Whatever happened to being practical?"

  "Because you might walk out of my life, you mean?"

  "Yes."

  Over her truck's hood, her gaze was unwavering. "Are you absolutely, positively sure you will walk out of my life?"

  The thousand and one reasons why he should say "yes" filtered through his brain before his mouth opened and he heard himself say, "No."

  "That's good enough for me," she said, getting in and slamming shut her door.

  But was it? Joe wondered, even as he climbed into his car and followed her home.

  * * *

  Despite her promise to Joe's mother, despite Maddie's suggestion to just keep loving him, Taylor had no illusions that convincing Joe they had a future was about as dicey as her riding a bicycle across a tightrope over Niagara Falls. Blindfolded. But she suspected that part of Joe's reticence stemmed from his never having had anyone there for him the way he'd always been there for everyone else. Since she loved the guy and all, she figured she didn't have a whole lot to lose. Well, other than her dignity and peace of mind, but they'd been shot to hell some time ago anyway.

  They'd had dinner—steaks on the grill and corn on the cob—and were just getting down to the "vacation" part of the evening when Joe's cell rang. Of course, Joe's attention being somewhat diverted at the time, she had to say, "Joe! Your phone!" several times before he actually heard it. He grabbed the phone off the nightstand, but apparently didn't recognize the number right off, answering with a slightly annoyed, "Yeah, this is Joe." Then: "Sam? Is Seth okay?"

  He sat bolt upright, grabbing his shirt off the chair by Taylor's bed and attempting to shrug it on one-handed, which in turn prompted Taylor to go on a bra hunt. There was a pause, then Joe said, "What?" in such a way as to send a cold chill streaking down her spine. She pulled herself back together as well as she could and lowered herself to the chair by the bed, anxiously watching Joe's expression as he took in whatever Sam was saying to him. Then he buried his face in his hand, letting out a soft groan, followed by a "No, it's okay, thanks for letting me know…yeah, I do, too. I'll be there in a minute."

  "Joe?" Taylor gently said after he hung up. "What is it?"

  He forked a hand through his hair, then stood, buttoning his shirt and ramming the hem back into the waistband of his pants, which he hadn't yet gotten around to removing. When he finally spoke, it was with the voice of someone who can't quite believe what he's saying.

  "Seth asked Sam if he could come live with him. Permanently."

  "What? Why?"

  He dug in his pocket for his keys. "That's what I'm about to find out."

  "Wait, I'm going with you—"

  "No!"

  Never had a single word flattened her so hard and so fast. Except then, on a harsh breath, Joe cupped her face in his hands, his brows drawn as if trying to commit her features to memory. "Whatever this is, it's between Seth and me, okay?"

  She lifted a hand to cover one of his, wishing like heck she could knock some sense into his thick head. But it would be like arguing with a rock. So all she said was, "It's going to be all right," because that's what people said at times like this. He kissed her, his mouth hard against hers, then turned to leave. But she'd apparently lost her battle with sanity because she followed him out into the living room, heard herself call him back, heard the words "I love you," spill from her lips, where they hung in the air between them as if, now that they were free, they had no idea where to go.

  Joe gave her a sad smile, then walked out the door. Taylor looked at Oakley, who wore the woebegone expression of the terminally depressed, although that probably had more to do with the fact that she wouldn't give him the second steak bone than Joe's leaving.

  "It is going to be all right," she told the dog, even though she didn't really believe it.

  Chapter 17

  Joe waited until Seth got in the Blazer, then slammed shut the door and stormed around to his side. When he got in, Seth said in a tiny voice, "You mad at me?" and Joe let out a long, worn-out sigh before looking over at his brother.

  "No, I'm not mad at you. But you and I got a lot of talking to do. Now get your seat belt on so we can go back to the cabin and do just that."

  The boy nodded and clicked his seat belt into place. Rain clouds plunged the landscape into premature darkness, a pathetic little drizzle dotting, then blurring, the Blazer's windshield. Joe turned the windshield wipers on low, their thunk-thunking an irritating counterpoint to the sound of his heartbeat hammering inside his head.

  If Joe lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget the rejection in Taylor's eyes when he left. And he wished—oh, God, he wished!—he'd had the words to make it better, to fix it so all the damn pieces of his sorry life would somehow fit together, that she could fit at least reasonably close to the center of his life, not way out there on the edge where the best they could manage were occasional glimpses of each other as Joe zoomed by, like he was on the merry-go-round from hell.

  For a split second, he thought he'd only imagined her saying she loved him. But she had, and there was no doubt in Joe's mind that she'd meant those words with all her heart, words that for the first time in his life echoed in his own, begging for release to mingle and mate with hers. But he'd kept them imprisoned, lifers without hope of parole, because he knew Taylor, knew that once he admitted he loved her, too—no, not just loved, but craved her, adored her, needed her more than he could have ever imagined needing anyone—she'd only come up with a hundred and one reasons why they couldn't let anything get in the way of what they felt for each other. As long as she thought her feelings were one-sided, though, he had a chance, a small one, of coming out of this mess in one piece. As did she.

  The tightness at the back of his throat stung like bad whiskey, but without the anesthetic benefits. Because while walking away was the only way to save Taylor, it was Joe's one-way ticket to hell.

  And yet, while he could curse the gods up one side and down the other about the crappy hand they'd dealt him when it came to his love life, all he had to do was look at the confused little boy beside him to remember what real pain was. And why, ultimately, there was only one choice Joe could make. He didn't have to question Seth about his motives for asking Sam to let him come live with them, because he already knew. Oh, boy, did he know. After all, even though Joe's father hadn't really left until Joe was nearly grown, Jose Salazar's presence in their lives had been an ephemeral, unreliable thing, like a ghost…thrilling, scary and too insubstantial to put any real faith in. Obviously, Seth's experience had been a carbon copy of Joe's.

  And like Joe, Seth wasn't about to let history repeat itself if he could help it.

  A clap of thunder split open the skies as they pulled up in front of the cabin; they both made a dash for the porch, bullet-hard raindrops stinging through their clothes. The porch floorboards thundered underneath their feet as they reached sanctuary a second before Joe heard the zing and pop of lightning striking nearby, followed by another thunderclap that shook the house and sent Seth jumping back from the porch railing, where he'd been watching an instant river snake through the dry earth.

  Joe chuckled softly, shaking water off his hat. "You okay?"

  "Yeah. I guess."

  Rainwater sluiced off the porch overhang in a solid, silvery curtain, pounding the ground below. "You wanna go inside or stay out here?"

  That got a shrug, but no reply.

  "Then have a seat," Joe said, plunking his butt onto the porch swing. After a second or two, Seth followed suit, skootching back into an Adirondack chair nearby, his legs crossed underneath him. Joe's heart constricted at how small and lost his brother looked, at how much he obviously needed and how little he'd asked for. "I find it's sometimes easier to talk when you can't see the other person, anyway," he said gently. "So who's gonna start?"

  Another shrug.

  Joe waited out a spurt of frustration—and half a wish he'd taken Taylor up on her offer—
then said, "Okay. I'll go first." The swing groaned as he pushed with his heels, taking a second or two to gather his thoughts. Except he realized if he was waiting for exactly the right words to say, they'd be there forever. So he sucked in a deep breath, then said, "You know how I said I wasn't sure I'd be much good at this? Taking care of a kid, I mean?"

  He sensed more than saw the kid's nod.

  "Well, what I guess I should've said was that I was hoping you'd help me out. You know, let me know if I was making a mistake or doing something all wrong." He glanced over and saw the pointed little chin jutting straight out as Seth watched the rain. "Like you," he said softly, "I didn't exactly have the greatest example to learn from. So if you've got a problem, you've got to tell me, Seth. Flat out. No beating around the bush."

  After a moment, his brother said, "I was afraid you'd get mad."

  "I won't get mad, Seth." When the boy looked at him, Joe put his hand over his heart. "I swear. But if you act like you're happy when you're not, I might get the wrong message…" Then he caught himself and roughly exhaled. "Or I might decide it's easier to let myself believe you're happy instead of really paying attention and trying to do something about it."

  He saw Seth glance at his face, then turn back around.

  "So," Joe said, "why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

  Lightning flashed again, followed by much softer thunder. The storm was already moving on. "I was scared that if I was too much trouble, you'd send me away," Seth said at last, so softly Joe almost couldn't hear him over the rain.

  "I see." Except Joe didn't see at all. Good Lord, how did people do this parenting thing on a full-time basis? "So…you decided to farm yourself out before I got a chance to, is that it?"

  Several seconds passed. Then Seth finally nodded. Joe patted the space beside him. "C'mere, goof," he said, and the little boy scrambled out of the slanted chair to come sit beside him. Joe draped an arm around his brother's skinny shoulders and hugged him to his side.

  "That wasn't going to happen, Seth. And it isn't. Ever. Because I love you, and there is nothing you can do that would make me send you away. You got that?"

  Seth looked up at him. "Really?"

  "Yeah, really. You think I'd lie about something like that?"

  His brother scratched his leg, rubbed a finger under his nose, then finally said, "I thought you were only puttin' up with me because you had to. I could tell you'd be a lot happier if I wasn't around."

  "That's not true—"

  "Guys don't like it when kids get in the way," the boy pushed out. "When they want to be with a girl, I mean."

  Joe shut his eyes, trying to control his breathing. When he felt more or less sure he wasn't going to let out a word Seth shouldn't be hearing, he said, "Is that what our father said?"

  He listened to his brother's slightly ragged breathing for several more seconds before the kid said, "When Mom and Dad still lived together, he'd all the time get mad if I came into the room when he and Mom were talkin' or kissin', especially if Mom paid attention to me. Then, after he left, I was supposed to go stay with him on the weekends. Only then he got a girlfriend and he wanted to be with her more'n me, so I couldn't go over there much anymore. Not that I wanted to much. It wasn't much fun."

  "No, I imagine not."

  After another long silence, Seth said, "I heard Mom and Dad arguing once, about how Dad hadn't even wanted me to be born, but Mom had gone ahead and had me anyway. That it was just supposed to have been the two of them, then I had to come along and ruin everything."

  Joe swallowed down a wave of nausea, then hugged his brother tighter. "Okay, don't you dare repeat me, but that's a load of crap, Seth. Did your mom love you?"

  "I guess. I mean, she told me she did."

  "Then that's all that matters. Because our father was a real piece of work. I never did understand how his mind worked—if it worked at all—but I can promise you that whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with you. Besides…" He pushed back to look down at him. "If you hadn't been born, I wouldn't have a little brother to hang out with."

  "Except if Mom and Dad hadn't died," Seth said in a small voice, "you might not've ever met me."

  "We don't know that. But in any case, we know each other now. And I don't know about you, but I think it's pretty cool."

  After a long moment, Seth said, "So how come last night, whenever you an' Taylor were talking and I walked in, you stopped? And every time I tried to ask you what was going on, you made out like it was none of my business?"

  Joe stilled, realizing how their secretiveness must have looked to a child used to being shut out of his parents' lives. Or at least, his father's. "Because I lost my job yesterday," he said quietly. "And I didn't want to say anything to you until I figured out what I was going to do. I didn't want to worry you."

  "But you were talking about it with Taylor?"

  "She's…a friend. Sometimes it helps to talk things out with a friend. You talk things over with her sometimes, don't you?"

  "That's all she is?" he said, sidestepping Joe's question. "A friend?"

  "She doesn't mean more to me than you do," Joe said, doing some sidestepping of his own. Because admitting the truth to the boy might destroy the fragile trust just beginning to blossom between them.

  Because admitting the truth to himself would likely destroy him.

  "I thought you liked Taylor," Joe said evenly.

  "I do. I like her a lot. But…" He could feel the confusion radiating from the small body, and suddenly Joe thought maybe he understood what Seth couldn't put into words—that he felt like he was competing with Taylor for Joe's attention. Whether it was true or not was beside the point to a little kid who'd always felt last in line.

  "It's okay," Joe said. "You don't have to try to explain. And this past little while's been rough, I know. But from now on, I'm gonna figure out some way to spend more time with you. I promise."

  "Don't say that."

  "Don't say what?"

  "That you promise. 'Cause grown-ups never mean it."

  "I mean it, Seth. No, I do," he added when the boy snorted his disbelief. "I don't break my promises. You can ask Kristen, the next time you see her. Or my mother. When I say I'll do something, I'll do it. In fact…" Pain lanced through him. "I think you just helped me make a decision."

  "'Bout what?"

  "About what comes next. With my job, I mean. As it happens, I got an offer from somebody else in Tulsa a little while back. Pay's good, and I'd be staying in one place, so I'd be around for you more."

  "Oh. So…you're not stayin' here and helping Hank run the Arrow?"

  Joe flinched. "How'd you know about that?"

  "I heard Blair talkin' about it with Libby, Wade's sister."

  Damn small towns. And big ears.

  "I thought about it, yeah…but I don't think that's the best choice. For any of us," he added as another tremor of regret shuddered through him. Even if he could justify the financial risk, he now knew there was no way he could stay here and stay away from Taylor. And Seth obviously wasn't in a place where he could deal with that. Not now, in any case. Yeah, Joe could reassure him from now to kingdom come that his place in Joe's life and affections were secure, but words meant squat without the foundation of trust. And the only way Joe was going to earn the kid's trust was to show him he had nothing to fear. Maybe someday, the kid would be ready to share Joe…but Joe knew all too well that "someday" had a nasty habit of staying just out of reach.

  "So. We'll get a real house in Tulsa, and you'll have your own room, and a yard for a dog, if you want one." He gave Seth's shoulders a squeeze. "How's that sound?"

  "Okay, I guess."

  "So are we clear on a few things? That I want you with me? And that nobody's going to make me change my mind about that?"

  A second or two passed before Seth nodded, then flung his arm around Joe's middle and gave him a hug…and let out a huge yawn. Joe hauled his brother up into his arms, despite sleepy
protests about not being a baby, and got him into bed, sitting beside him and rubbing his skinny little back until his deep, even breathing told Joe he'd fallen asleep. Then he got up and tiptoed out of the room, noiselessly shutting the door behind him so the boy wouldn't hear him make the last phone call in the world he wanted to make.

  * * *

  Taylor barely saw Joe at first, waiting on the porch steps, his hands linked between his knees. The rain had stopped; moonlight sliced across the clearing, the silvery glow enough to see the pain in his eyes, a pain which seared right through her.

  She didn't imagine this would be a very long conversation. She also could pretty much guess the outcome.

  "Well?" she said softly, sitting on the damp step beside him, not sure whether to touch him or not. But Joe reached for her hand, the tension in his fingers vising her heart.

  "He figured I was too busy to take care of him. That I'd be happier if I didn't have him to worry about."

  Taylor wasn't sure which broke her heart more—the devastation in his voice, or the weariness. "Oh, Joe…he's just a little kid. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded."

  His eyes met hers, hard and black. And in a weird way, unforgiving. "He's a little kid whose own father made it quite clear he was a mistake. An annoying burden he wanted little or nothing to do with."

  "So…you think every time you're not around, he's reading it as your not wanting to be with him? Because his father—your father—didn't want to be around him? But you know that's not true. You're nothing like your father."

  "And how would you know that?"

  "Because I know you, you idiot!"

  "You don't know me at all," he said, letting go of her hand and leaning forward to stare out into the darkness.

  "The hell I don't!"

  His eyes whipped to hers. "Then let me spell it out for you—every time I'm with you, all I can think about is you. All I want to think about is you. And everything else takes a back seat. Nobody knows…" He looked away, shaking his head.

  "That sometimes you want to run away?" she said quietly.