Stolen Tyme

by S. L. Ziegler

  One night with Courtney, and she’s earned her fifth time drunk.

  I climb up the stairs as the front door opens. Naomi’s mouth hangs open as she spots me. “Hi.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Naomi drops her arms and her shoes crash to the floor before she attempts to stand tall. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to go to sleep by myself. And I thought it would be a good idea to apologize for interfering with Charlie.” If it weren’t for the hiccup at the end, I wouldn’t have known she was drunk.

  “I should have called yesterday. I hit below the belt. And I wanted to let you know that I had talked to Charlie about her blaming you. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately, but she isn’t herself.” I should have. Blowing up over that wasn’t really what I was upset about. Only Naomi didn’t know that, still doesn’t. I simply didn’t want to talk about what was eating me.

  “I get that about Charlie. It’s you that crossed a line. You should have called. And you hit really far below the belt. You made me cry. I don’t like crying.”

  I choke on the laughter. Naomi’s a cute drunk. Truthful, but cute.

  Inching closer, I say, “No more. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Naomi’s hair is a mess on her shoulders. “Now, with that out of the way…I can leave.”

  I clutch her shoulders. “Stay with me,” I say and drag her into my embrace. Tomorrow, when she’s sober, we will have a talk. The talk about kids. About what she wants out of us, about what I want out of us. Together, as a couple. The way it should be.

  “If you say so.”

  Picking her up in my arms, I carry her up to my bedroom before laying her on the bed. “Have you always had that picture of Charlie and you when she was a baby?”

  “It’s one of the two I have of me holding her.”

  Naomi tilts her head, staring at the picture. “Aw. She was a cutie. If we had kids, I bet they wouldn’t be that cute. Charlie is one of a kind.”

  She said if, not when.

  If.

  If is totally different than when.

  My feet are glued to the floor, with the liquor invading her veins, she’ll tell me the truth. The hell with tomorrow and being sober.

  “Naomi, do you want kids?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, I’m asking you.”

  Naomi shrugs, her face turned away, staring into the dark. “Never thought about it as something in my future.”

  “Never?”

  “No, but it could happen. Birth control isn’t one hundred percent.”

  “Naomi, I don’t want kids.” I get the words out as quickly as I can. They’re blunt but honest. “Will you remember this tomorrow?”

  All her features turn clear. Like my words sobered her up. “Yes. Is that why you’ve been so off?”

  “Yes.”

  Grabbing her face between my hands, the contrast between my rough and her soft means more than just our skin. It’s us. I’m the edge and she’s smooth. Opposite. Perfection of conflicting things. “I love you, and me not wanting kids has nothing to do with the person you are, or the mother you could be. I just don’t want another one. Charlie’s it for me.”

  “I get it.”

  “You swear?”

  “Yes. I do. You and me together means no babies.”

  “And you are okay with that?”

  My brain rushes around as I wait for her to answer.

  “I’m fine.” She shrugs. “I never held a baby before today. So I’m not losing anything.”

  Now that the baby elephant is out of the room, I have one thing—only one thing on my mind. “Ever had drunk sex?”

  “No.”

  Thank the fucking gods for that. I’m about to bring it. All.

  “Good. You are about to find out what it’s all about.”

  Her eyes shine, glancing at me taking my shirt off. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I knew you would.”

  My daughter is fucking twelve. Twelve years old today. Seems like yesterday I found out Zoey was pregnant. Yet it doesn’t seem like yesterday since I last snorted drugs. Crazy. Her birthday should be a happy time, and most of the day it is. But when I remember—reflect—what I was doing when she was born—instead of what I should have been doing—is the time I lose it. That guilt paralyzes me. I have two pictures of me holding her swaddled in my arms. Two. And I can’t even remember those. I was that fucked up. I have no memories of waking up at night to feed her. I don’t remember changing a diaper, or burping her.

  Nothing.

  It’s one of the reasons I continued to use for two years after she was born. I had to erase that agony from my mind. I was a useless piece of shit. I put something ahead of my own child. I hate Zoey for the person time has changed her into, but I owe her a debt of gratitude for being there when I wouldn’t step up.

  But today, as Charlie blows out her candles on the cake we made this morning, my heart beats again. This is our tradition, one we’ve had from the time I only got her during the day—before I proved myself. I won’t miss any more time with her. I broke the cycle within me to be present and to be here for these moments.

  “Pops, can I open my birthday presents now?”

  “You think you can ask one more time?” That’s all she’s asked about since her feet landed on the floor this morning, but her excitement makes me almost giddy.

  “If I do, will you say yes this time?”

  “Nah.”

  “Pops.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Can I?”

  “Yes.”

  Before the S falls off my lips, she’s ripping off the wrapping on the present I got her. Charlie has been talking about it for months, and with Naomi’s help, I was able to pull it off.

  “Pops, did you pick this dress yourself?” Charlie’s eyes bug out as she picks up the straps to hold it out in front of her.

  I laugh; me picking out clothes she would like will never happen. I still want her in Disney princess things, not a dress that shows she’s growing up faster than I can breathe. “No, that is from Naomi. She wanted you to have something to wear tonight.”

  “I thought we were going to stay in. That’s what you said anyway.”

  “Nope.” Pulling the envelope out of my back pocket, I hand it to my girl.

  She is going to pass out.

  Her fingers shake as she opens it, looking at me then back to the tickets in her hand, then back at me.

  Charlie jumps off the seat with a rush of excitement before she can read the whole ticket. This is why I did it. This is the one thing they never tell you when you have kids. Much better to give than receive.

  “Is this for Afraid?”

  I lift my shoulders to answer, but the smile that could break my face shows her this isn’t a dream. Afraid is the newest boy band—their music causes my ears to bleed. But Charlie loves them, so for her, I’ll grin and bear it. And put ear plugs in to stop the agony they call music from destroying me.

  “Really? Are you coming with me?”

  “I am.” With twenty thousand other screaming girls.

  The doorbell rings, and Charlie’s eyes grow larger. “Who is that?”

  “Go see for yourself.”

  She’s out of the chair before I can put my feet on the ground.

  “Pops, Naomi is doing my makeup? And hair? Why didn’t anyone tell me turning twelve is the best?” she yells, running up the stairs, an ironclad hold on the tickets.

  “Hey you,” Naomi says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Hey, baby. You sure you don’t want to come tonight?”

  I would love for her to be there. If it weren’t for her connections, this wouldn’t have happened. But Naomi has been insistent that it just be Charlie and me. One day, I hope to make her understand that she’s ours. Our family. The thing that will complete us. ‘til then, I’ll just keep bugging the shit out of her by inviting her to do things with us. We don’t need to add a baby in the mix to have it all.


  And I’m glad this is what she wants, too.

  “Yes. This should be a special night with her dad. But I need to get upstairs so you won’t be late.”

  I push her against the wall, and the sight of Naomi has my blood rushing through my body. “Did I tell you thank you?”

  “About a million times, and if my memory serves me correctly, you showed me about a dozen more. I know I certainly still feel your thank you in certain places.”

  Resisting the urge to puff out my chest, I wiggle my brows. “I sure did. This weekend, I want to take you somewhere. Just the two of us.”

  Us. Where I can bang the shit out of her, and her screams can’t be heard for miles.

  “What if I have plans?”

  I don’t give a shit about her plans, not with what I had arranged today, but still, I have to ask, be the good man she sees me as. “Do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  She smacks my chest as she lets out a giggle. “You’re an ass, but I still somehow can’t find a reason for me to stop being with you. But you need to stop groping me with your daughter upstairs. It may not be a good thing for her to walk in on. Scar the poor girl of yours on her birthday, nonetheless.”

  Mention of Charlie is like a cold bucket of water.

  Mission accomplished.

  Chapter 16

  Naomi

  One measly text is all I have to go on as my clue about where X is taking me this weekend. One. He refuses to answer any more of my one thousand questions. He wants it to be a complete surprise. Xavier just doesn’t understand a girl’s need to plan. I need to know. He told me to pack one outfit for going out and one outfit I don’t mind getting dirty, and be ready right at 2:15. His 2:15, not mine. Since I am the one who’s always late.

  That’s it.

  I need more information. I’m a planner. I live by checklists, to-do lists. Lists in general, and I didn’t get one for this. Hair, makeup, shoes. Girls need more information, and I got zilch from him.

  Now it leaves me here, in my father’s living room, anxiously waiting to be picked up like I was going on my first date. In fact, it kind of is since it’s the first time Xavier has picked me up here. At least, this time I don’t have Lock staring at my every movement while I wait in that stupid chair of his like I was sixteen. Then answering the door with his gun to the side and telling Tommy Lane that if I came home knocked up he would bury him where he’d never be found.

  But still.

  Lock would do that now if he could, if I let him know what was going on.

  But unlike with Tommy Lane, Xavier isn’t on time.

  The clock on the wall ticks, mocking me that I’m on time and he’s late.

  Like a damn hourglass.

  Sands sliding down.

  Like a damn clock.

  Ticking away.

  2:20.

  Tick.

  2:30

  Glancing down at my cell phone—nothing.

  Tick.

  2:40.

  Maybe he meant 2:15 my time.

  Only I know he didn’t. He’s always on real time. Always.

  Anxiety starts to crush me. The worst-case scenarios play out in my head—car accident, kidnapping, murder.

  I won’t let my mind go to him not showing up…he’s only a few minutes late. It’s not because he doesn’t want to see me. Something happened, that’s it. Nothing more. Ever since the talk about children came up, something has been building inside me, something about how different he’s been acting has been eating at me. I didn’t tell him what I might really want. It’s stupid to think that something that may never come could ruin our future.

  My ears perk up when I hear echoes of footsteps on the wood outside, I cross my arms over my chest, my bottom lip out. X better have a good explanation for not being on time; the doubt that was built from him being late is beyond stupid. With a swift knock on the door, he opens it on his own, not waiting on me to come answer it.

  I shut my eyes tightly as he gets closer to the couch. I can’t see him, because if I see him, I’ll cave, and caving cannot happen until he grovels.

  Groveling will be the key to my forgiveness.

  “Naomi, I’m sorry. Can you look at me, babe, so I can explain?”

  “Excuses are like butts…everyone has one, and they all stink,” I say with my eyes still firmly shut; except I can feel his presence. And that’s worse than seeing him.

  His hands lie on my legs. “My tire blew, and I couldn’t find the jack, then the spare was flat, and my phone was dead, and Charlie took my charger out of my car so I couldn’t call.”

  I peek through the slits of my lids. “Oh.” That one stinks for both of us.

  Xavier is kneeling in front of me with black tar covering his hands and arms, some smudges on his face, his hair standing up like gel is in it, only I know it’s grease.

  Damn.

  Emotions.

  Every time.

  “I was worried about you actually coming to get me, and I was pissed. Then I went through worst-case scenarios like murder. I mean who goes there?”

  I do apparently, when he doesn’t show up.

  Stupid me.

  “I guessed that from the way your eyes were glued shut when I came in. I’m really sorry. That’s never happened before.”

  “Is that you that stinks?”

  He scrunches his nose up. “I think so.”

  “Go take a shower in my bathroom.”

  “Nah, we need to get going.”

  Holding my nose, I say, “I have to ride in the car with that smell?”

  “Damn right you do. Next shower I take will be with you, and I’ll be damned if I do that here. Your father might kill me.”

  “No might about it. He would kill you.”

  “Exactly, that’s why we need to get out of here.”

  “And I kind of like you, so I don’t want to have to figure out where he buried you, either.”

  “It’s good to know you care about me that much. Now that you aren’t looking at me like I’m in trouble, get that cute ass of yours up. Let’s get on the road before traffic gets even worse.”

  X offers me his hand, and I turn my nose up to it. “At least wash your hands first.”

  “I guess I can do that.”

  “No guessing, go do it. I’ll be in the car—and dibs on the radio.”

  “Fuck,” X mutters to himself as he walks off to the kitchen.

  I stand in the center of the room, wood all around, the air crisper than what’s ever been in my lungs.

  There is a certain type of peace only being lost in the mountains can bring.

  “Do you like it?” X questions, wrapping his arms around my waist, clean from the shower he insisted on taking alone because apparently some time crunch we are under. I snooped around every inch of the cabin.

  “Like it? Not even close. I love it.”

  “You scared me for a second that this would be too out in the woods for you to enjoy.”

  “How’d you find out about it?”

  “I own it.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Say what?”

  “I own it. Hads and Reed’s camp is about thirty minutes away. It made sense to get a place nearby for the times I stay up, and I always wanted a getaway. I don’t come up here as much as I’d like, but it’s my second home.”

  “You never told me.” A small piece of me is hurt by not knowing about this sooner.

  Xavier’s hands rub up my arms. “Hey, stop. I feel you go cold against me. I wasn’t hiding it from you. That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise, that’s all.”

  “Okay.”

  He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No, don’t turn away. This isn’t a race. This thing between you and me doesn’t have a finish line we have to cross for a medal. Slow and steady, that’s how we will last, how it will work between us. I wanted it to be a surprise. That’
s it. Don’t read into something that’s not there.”

  “Not a race, huh?”

  It sure feels like that lately. Not sure why. It’s like something is inching its way into my brain that a goodbye is coming. I don’t know why. It’s not that we haven’t talked about things. It’s not that he hasn’t made me feel safe.

  It’s more of a foreshadowing of something to come. Something…I don’t know what it is.

  “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

  “You playing for keeps?” I ask.

  I stare longingly into his eyes, and I know I should tell him about the show, about me leaving for a while. Only, the way he’s looking at me, I don’t want to put a cloud over our time together tonight. Maybe that’s what is lingering between us.

  “I’m all fucking in. Cashing in my chips.”

  If only.

  “I love you.” I do, and with each day we have together, it grows more and more.

  “You too, baby.”

  The air shifts in an instant, and a little more of my fears float away with his words. It’s going to take him and me bending a little, but X is right. I don’t see me crossing the finish line to us anytime soon. If I do, it won’t be my choice. Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow about my plans.

  “Now that I’m cleaned up, we better hit the road.”

  “Again?”

  “Yep, this was just part one of the weekend. About to go to part two, the main reason I brought you here. Well, not the main reason. That would be to have earth-shattering sex and to make you scream so loud no one can hear you. But that will have to come later. We are on a schedule, and sex will ruin it.”

  “Not now?”

  “Nope. We have a place to be, and I can’t be late or we lose our spot.” X doesn’t let me finish before his phone rings. “Hold on for two seconds, I have to take this. Go change into that outfit, and I’ll make this quick.”

  Coming out of the bedroom, dressed for wherever he’s taking me, I spot him on the balcony. I slowly step toward him, but his hushed voice stops me. “And I’m telling you I’m not going to marry her.”

  Xavier waits a few seconds for whoever is on the other end to talk. “No, marrying Naomi is not an option. So figure something else out.”