by L. B. Dunbar
“I thought it would be another way for you two to bond.” I pause after I speak. Why am I trying to push Billy and Sadie together? In fact, I want to set some better boundaries for us. He can’t just keep popping in like he does, unexpectedly showing up and then sticking around for dinner. We need a schedule, structure, like things used to be for Sadie.
“No, it’s fine. I’d like to talk to Sadie about something anyway.”
“Like what?” I immediately ask, curious.
“Nothing much. Father-daughter stuff.”
My breath hitches. Billy could still seek custody of his daughter. He wants to be responsible for her in more ways than just a financial statement. What if he wants her to live with him? Will he make me see less of her? And then what if…and I’m back to considering him marrying someone. Sadie would have a stepmother. Not that there’s anything wrong with stepmothers, but I just…I don’t know what I just.
I’ve sought a child advocate for Sadie. Someone who knows her rights and can protect her. Sadie says she wants to remain living with me, and the advocate tries to assure me it’s a possibility a judge might consider based on Sadie’s age and circumstances. Sadie hardly knows Billy, and she’s at an age where she can make her own decisions. I have no doubt she’ll say she wants to stay with me, and Billy will be the one with a visitation schedule, if we get to that point. He promised we’d work it out. We just need to put it into better practice in our future.
I need to file an insurance claim for the robbery and change the locks for extra protection. For a moment, June Barne suggested Grace robbed the place, and I laughed. There isn’t a criminal bone in Grace’s body, and besides, I was able to provide an alibi for her. Grace had a date. Single mother of five, a date is a rare opportunity, one I strongly encouraged after Grace enjoyed herself so much at the Oktoberfest.
“What if he asks me about children?”
“Don’t lie but don’t offer details. This night should be about you. Stick to what you know.”
“All I know are my kids.” Grace chuckled but sadness touched her eyes. She wouldn’t trade one moment with them, but she wouldn’t mind a little adult time either.
I don’t know why I was offering her dating advice. I didn’t date. I had no advice to offer.
“It’s fine,” Billy says, breaking into my meandering thoughts. “I’d love to give Sadie driving time, but I’ll have to come over around four. I have plans tonight.”
“I…” I don’t get to finish my thought when Billy hangs up. What plans does he have? Although it’s none of my business. Popping in at four or even warning me he’ll be coming over is an example of what I mean. Billy can’t come and go as he pleases. It isn’t fair to Sadie, and a small part of me realizes it isn’t fair to me. And what does he mean he has plans?
If Billy Harrington needs to accommodate for his dates, he can leave us off his calendar.
21
Lessons…in driving and other means of navigation.
[Billy]
“I didn’t steal the money from Aunt Roxie,” Sadie whines, her eyes shifting to me.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I snap, tempted to reach for the steering wheel. These backroads are narrow, and once they shift into switchbacks, there’s no shoulder, just a ditch. It isn’t ideal for driving lessons, but this is where I learned, and a strange swelling in my chest happens as I realize I’m now teaching my daughter on these same roads.
What’s also not ideal is discussing what I discovered last night.
“I checked on you, only you weren’t in bed.” I’ve already told Sadie my version of the break-in and what I discovered when I went to her room—she was missing.
“I already told you, it wasn’t me.”
“Then tell me where you were, and I’ll drop it.”
“I told you I was at Julianne’s house.”
I haven’t heard of this mysterious Julianne who doesn’t seem to have a last name. Not that I know all the who’s who in Sadie’s life, but I’m paying attention when she talks. I’m listening for the mention of others like Heather Quinton, the girl who keeps messing with Sadie by calling her Violet. If I didn’t think it would stir up trouble, I’d march myself over to Hestia’s house and tell her to keep her bitch daughter away from mine but approaching Hestia would be asking for it. I’ve already been there once, and it was one too many times. I was too easy for her tastes. Unmarried and uncomplicated, she likes a bit more challenge. It’s quite sad. We have our own desperate housewife of Blue Ridge without her being someone’s wife.
“So if I call this Julianne without a last name, and ask her if you were at her house, she’ll tell me you were there?” Two thoughts occur to me simultaneously.
A friend covering for you as a teen is one of the oldest tricks in the book.
Accusing her and suggesting I call said friend makes me sound like my mother.
Dear God, I’ve become Elaina Harrington.
So if I call Griffin Duncan’s mother to confirm you spent the night there last night, she’s going to tell me you did? That woman could smell a lie frying the next county over, and she caught me half a dozen times trying to cook them up.
I decide to change tactics. “You know, if you did steal the money, you could tell me. Tell me why.”
Sadie cranes her neck in my direction, swerving the truck with the movement.
“Eyes,” I bark, and Sadie rights the tires before we veer into the ditch. My heart races in my chest. I’m clutching the seat belt near my throat.
“Do you need something? I can buy it for you. Just ask me. We can talk about it.”
Sadie’s eyes close for a second, and then she snaps them open before I speak. Her eyes shift sideways and back to the windshield. “I didn’t steal the money.” Her teeth clench, and I want to believe her. Deep down, I really want to trust she’s telling the truth.
“Then tell me where you were.”
She doesn’t answer, but there’s no lying about her absence. When I checked on her, she wasn’t in her bed. Another old trick—making the bed with pillows to look slept in, although I don’t know how Roxie could miss it.
Did Sadie look sick to you?
“Wherever you were, you were lucky to be back before Roxie came upstairs.”
“Why? What happened?” Sadie’s tone shifts to concern for her aunt, the one person I’d hope she doesn’t lie to, yet she must.
“She was robbed, remember?” I state, reminding her of the reason for this awkward conversation. “Plus, she was shaken and worried about you. She thought you were sick.”
Silence fills my truck as Sadie continues down the winding road.
“I used that trick a time or two myself. The old pillows lining the bed one.”
“What?” Sadie doesn’t dare look at me, but her fingers tighten on the wheel. “Why?”
I’m not about to tell my child the shenanigans I pulled, sneaking off to meet Rachel or catching rides with Mati when she snuck off with Denton a time or two. I need Sadie to know I’m concerned here. “I covered for you. Roxie doesn’t know what I saw.”
Sadie’s head quickly turns in my direction, her mouth agape before she turns back to the road.
“I don’t want to be lying to your aunt, though. It’s not a good way to start a relationship.”
“Are you and my aunt in a relationship?” she teases, her tone full of sarcasm.
“We’re all in a relationship,” I admit. “The three of us. But I don’t want one based on secrets or deception. I think I’ve been deceived enough.”
The truck falls quiet after that, and I feel a little bad. It isn’t Sadie’s fault I didn’t know about her. I blame Trixie, and I’ve been damn near pissed off some nights thinking about all I’ve missed with my daughter. The thought hits me hard once again.
“Hey, up here, let’s turn around. I know a place we should go.” Then I grit my teeth as Sadie learns the art of a three-point turn.
+ + +
“Stick your butt o
ut a little bit. Then run on your toes,” I suggest, a smile filling my voice.
“I feel ridiculous,” Sadie mutters, but she holds the ball upright before her, tiptoes to the line and then lowers to release it. The ball heads straight for the gutter. Again. “Dammit.”
“Hey,” I murmur. “Keep it clean.”
Sadie turns to face me while her bowling ball disappears down the lane, glaring at me like how dare I make such a suggestion.
“I don’t know why you’re fucking looking at me like that,” I say because I can’t help myself. I also can’t contain my laughter and neither does she. When Sadie laughs, her face lights up like motherfucking sunshine on the brightest day, and my chest does that strange gripping thing like I have indigestion. She’s beautiful despite the darkness of her features.
“You’re up,” she says, walking toward me, and I head for the ball pit. When we pulled up before the neon-lit Bing-Bowl sign, Sadie stared at the dark, low building. Her arms hugged the steering wheel.
“I’ve never been bowling,” she said, and I almost slipped off the passenger seat.
“Sacrilege,” I stated with a grin because deep down I was thrilled to share a first with my girl.
My girl. My daughter.
Bing-Bowl is owned by one of the less involved Rebel’s Edge members, although the joint is no less seedy looking. It’s located outside of town by a few miles.
“Don’t be telling your aunt I brought you here,” I warned her before we entered.
“So much for a relationship with secrets,” she jests, but I know Roxie might have a fit over the clientele. I’ve been here on several occasions, knowing no one is going to make a big deal of it. After all, I’m James Harrington’s kid brother, and although most motorcycle clubs require you to separate from your blood family, the Rebels aren’t one-percenters like that. James decided on his own to pull away from us.
Sadie takes a seat on the plastic bench, and I pick up my ball. Ironically, it’s blue like my own balls have been since last night with Roxanne, but hot damn was she sweet once she gave in to me. The hum to her voice has been a silent soundtrack in my head all day, and every time I think of her, I have an issue. Her taste on my tongue lingered, and I want another swipe at her. I want more of her, and the thought hits me hard, but not as hard as I grow thinking about her. I need to get myself under control before I embarrass myself in front of my daughter.
However, Sadie isn’t helping either as she keeps bring up the possibility of Roxanne and I dating. You like her, right? Of course, I like her. She’s Sadie’s aunt. But the lying liar who lies inside me knows it’s more than that.
I do like Roxanne.
I like how she fights me, but I love when she gives in. Like last night.
And dammit, I have a problem again.
Baseball. Butterscotch. Bitter beer. Any thought to help me settle down.
“Hiya, Billy.” A sugar-sweet voice says my name, and my spine shivers like someone scraped their nails down a chalkboard. Instead, hard-on softener. Slowly, I turn to face Kristy Moseley. Shit. “Been a long time, baby.” She struggles to take the two steps down to the platform in her high heels and then shuffles awkwardly toward me. She shouldn’t have those shoes on this wood floor, not to mention, she can hardly walk in the height, but I’m not about to reprimand her. I don’t want anything to do with her and my eyes shift to Sadie, who’s watching Kristy approach me with rapt attention.
Kristy reaches me and then reaches for me, her hand almost connecting with my chest, but I’m quick to catch her wrist.
“Whatcha up to this evening?” Kristy’s voice rises, and I know she’s been drinking. It’s how we ended up together the first and only time. Drinking…and bowling.
“I’m bowling,” I state the obvious, and my eyes drift to Sadie once again, who has crossed her arms over her chest and glares at the back of Kristy. Kristy turns to look over her shoulder, peering down at Sadie.
“Whatcha looking at, honey? He’s too old for you.”
“Don’t insult me.” Sadie smirks, and I see the expression of the girl when we first met, when she thought I was hitting on her, and I had no idea who she was. Funny how time has changed, and passed, and I wouldn’t go back. Wouldn’t go back to life without knowing Sadie.
I hold my breath, knowing what’s about to come next from Sadie.
He’s my dad.
But something stops her, her mouth hanging open and her eyes widening as she looks at me. She doesn’t say anything. An eyebrow tips, and I realize she’s waiting for me to explain who she is.
“This is Roxanne’s niece, Sadie.” My heart races in my chest, and I watch as the expression on Sadie’s face morphs from teasing to blank. Why can’t I say it? Why can’t I just introduce her? She’s my daughter, my head screams, but I remind myself I’m waiting to tell my family first.
“Who’s Roxanne?” Kristy turns back to me, and her eyes spark. Oh shit, I hate jealous women especially those who have nothing to be jealous of. Which isn’t exactly true, because it’s fucking adorable on Roxie that she’s all hot and bothered about some mystery woman she thinks I took against a wall. But I mean, this woman, the Kristy kind, who I don’t owe any explanation to.
“The owner of BookEnds. The bookstore across the street from the pub.”
“You hate that woman.” Kristy stammers in disbelief, and my eyes shoot over to Sadie, whose brows rise in question.
“I don’t hate her.” I speak to Sadie while I direct my answer to Kristy. Kristy cups my chin and turns my head to face her.
“Bookstore, you say? Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time over there lately.” Kristy’s drunk eyes narrow on me, but like I said, I don’t owe her anything. I tug my face away from her and take a step back.
“If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get back to my date.” I wink at Sadie as I approach the seat and sit. “You’re up.”
Sadie stands, brushing past Kristy in a way I’ve witnessed from my little sister—a defiant brush-off. She picks up her ball, which happens to be highlighter yellow, and steps up to the line. The ball heads straight down the middle with a little gusto and knocks down the first pin, which then takes down the rest of them. Strike.
“You did it!” I holler, giving a one hand clap. Sadie twirls on one foot, kicking out her other behind her, and then she takes a bow.
“Since when do you date teenagers?” Kristy snaps.
“It was a figure of speech, Kristy. I’m not dating a teenager.” She’s my daughter.
“Since when do you date period, Billy Harrington?” Kristy adds.
“Since he started dating my aunt Roxie. The bookstore owner.”
Sweet Jesus. Sadie has no idea what she’s saying or doing or the shitstorm she’s brewing, but she looks even more pleased with herself than the strike she bowled.
“I don’t believe it,” Kristy mutters, her gaze on me while her arms cross over her voluptuous chest which I unfortunately know is fake.
“Oh, believe. Billy is practically living with us because he’s over so much,” Sadie interjects.
“What?” Kristy screeches.
Oh. My. God. This kid. She’s stirring up the pot well and good now. I leap up from the seat and step between Sadie and Kristy, putting my back to Kristy.
“Sadie,” I hiss. “Leave it.” My eyes widen in warning, but there’s a playful gleam to Sadie’s eyes. She’s enjoying this little display of female dominance and cat scratching.
“Well, I won’t be seeing you around, Billy Harrington, so don’t be looking for me,” Kristy states, and I don’t have to turn to know Kristy’s attempting to stomp away without much success. Sadie covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“You’re up…Billy,” Sadie drawls, and for a moment, I almost thought she’d call me dad. Standing there with my heart racing, Sadie brushes past me, and I realize I might just want her to call me the label.
You don’t deserve it, my head reminds me as I’m not acknowledging Sadie�
�s relationship to me either.
I take my turn, watching my ball go too far to the left and only knock down a pin or two in the corner. As I return to the bench, a young guy dressed in black with matching midnight hair hanging into his eyes but shaved up the back walks past our seats.
“Hey, Sadie,” he says, tipping his head at her as he continues past.
“Hi…Christian.” Sadie shifts to follow his gait and lifts a hand too late for him to notice she waved. Suddenly, my blood boils, especially when Sadie turns back to the lane, and her cheeks are a deep pink.
“Who was that?” I can’t contain the growl in my throat.
“That’s Christian Grady.”
Grady. Grady. Grady. How do I know that name?
“He’s in my school. I mean, in my class. Well, he’s in one of my classes. He’s in my grade.” Sadie giggles, then covers her mouth and closes her eyes. She sits up straighter and takes a deep breath. Then she stands for her turn. I don’t even notice her bowl before she plops down next to me. I’m still concentrating on the Grady name.
“So, is that the type of woman you’re interested in?” Sadie nods in the general direction of Kristy’s exit. I don’t need to turn to see if Kristy is still watching me. I can feel her eyes tossing daggers at the back of my head.
“If I was, you just” —cockblocked me—“buzzkilled it.”
Sadie shakes her head as if she can read my thoughts. “So you like her?”
“Actually, she’s not my type.”
“Hiya Billy,” Sadie mocks, and I laugh at the imitation. “That’s not your type?” She assesses me a moment, taking in my dark jeans and the lighter denim shirt with pearl buttons. “Then what is your type?” Oh boy, here we go again.
“You know, that little stunt you pulled, saying I’m dating your aunt, that’s gonna get around town from a woman like Kristy. It’s called gossip.” I tip up an eyebrow, and the “Rumors” song comes to mind. I’m not half as upset as I should be, though. It wouldn’t feel wrong to have people thinking I’m with Roxanne, the bookstore owner.
“Rumors are going to spread anyway because you’re at a seedy bowling alley with an underage kid.” Sadie crooks up the edge of her lips. No one said she was stupid.
