“Three days ago,” she replied deliberately, accusingly, “you stood on my doorstep and told me that you were merely doing your duty, your job, when you pretended to be my fiancé. What was I suppose to think after that, Shane?”
“I don’t know. But I have the right to know that I have a son!”
“Well then you shouldn’t have disappeared without a trace.”
He took a deep breath. “Did you already know you were pregnant when I was still there?”
“No.” Thorne narrowed her eyes. “It wasn’t until Aidan’s trial that I realized my persistent nausea had nothing to do with the fact that my fiancé had disappeared, or that my brother was in jail.”
Shane closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Thorne …”
“I don’t need your sympathy now. Brady has everything he needs. He’s a happy boy.”
Shane sighed. “What’s he like?”
“Hungry,” she said curtly, putting a few pieces of pizza on a plate.
Shane hadn’t felt this fidgety since the third grade, when he’d almost wet his pants during a test because his mom had given him too much orange juice for breakfast. He wanted to … He didn’t even know what he wanted to do! Too many thoughts and emotions were racing through his head, and he couldn’t tell which was most important. On the one hand, he yearned to dash into the living room and look at his son, but on the other hand, he was terrified of facing the boy.
And then there was Thorne.
He felt like shaking her. He might never have known about Brady if he hadn’t come by her place a third time, this time unannounced. But he also felt like begging her for forgiveness, because she had every reason to damn him to hell.
“Thorne, you know what I mean,” he pressed. “What’s he really like?”
With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. “If he doesn’t get his pizza, he’s insufferable—just like you when you’re hungry.”
A punch to the guts couldn’t have felt worse. “Please, Thorne. You don’t know what it feels like.”
“What what feels like?”
“Having a son and not knowing anything about him,” he said, his voice hoarse.
For a moment Shane was afraid that she would give him a sarcastic answer and refuse to tell him even the slightest detail about Brady. But then she replied in a thick voice, “He’s loud, stubborn, hotheaded, and sometimes really cocky. But he’s also intelligent, loving, funny, and the best thing that ever happened to me. Is that a sufficient answer?”
Shane nodded.
“Can I take him his pizza now?”
He nodded again. When she passed him, he put a hand on her arm but drew back immediately when he saw her rigid expression. “We should talk about what we’re going to do now, Thorne.”
“Wrong,” she said. “I know exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to eat pizza with my son, and then we’ll watch a movie—”
He interrupted with a snort. “You don’t think I’ll just disappear now that I’ve found out I have a kid?”
“Well, you’re certainly not going to spend the night here,” she said categorically, even sounding somewhat amused. “Which means you have no choice but to just disappear.”
“We need to tell Brady that I’m his dad!”
“Shane.” She exhaled in irritation. “What do you expect from me? Am I supposed to walk into the living room, hand Brady his pizza, and mention in passing that his father’s in the kitchen? That is not the way this happens!”
“Well, how do you want it to happen?” His breathing was laborious, and he balled his hands into fists. “I want to get to know my son, Thorne.”
He could see her indecision in the way she bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “However it happens, I don’t want to rush it. We can’t just throw a thing like this at a child.”
“A child needs his father.”
Her expression became shuttered. “You’ll have to take my word for it. He wants for nothing.”
“Except for a father!”
“And whose fault is that? Certainly not mine, Detective Fitzpatrick!”
“How long are you going to hold that against me, Thorne?” he asked impatiently.
She snorted derisively. “I haven’t even started yet!”
“That’s wonderful news,” he groaned, his tone changing. He sounded beleaguered.
“Do you have any idea how awful it feels to find out you’ve been deceived in the shabbiest way possible?”
“I’ve already told you I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t. The only thing you’re sorry about is that I’ve found out what a miserable trick you played on me.”
He could see her swallow hard. “Thorne, even though it was my job, I’m sure you know that I liked—”
“Stop,” she cut him off with a croak. “I don’t want to hear that.”
He felt his irritation mounting again. “It seems you don’t want to hear anything I want to say!”
“Don’t pretend you’re the innocent one here, Shane. How can you even try to excuse what you did?”
He made a face, obviously lacking an answer. “What do you want to hear? That my behavior was morally objectionable? Fine, I’ll admit that. But the fact remains that we have a son, Thorne. I want to get to know my kid.”
“Up until now, I could at least believe that Brady’s father was my fiancé,” she murmured bitterly, her gaze veiled, “even if he behaved like a giant coward. But …” She swallowed. “It’s rather devastating to find out my son’s father was only ever a cop who thought sleeping with me was part of his assignment.”
“You’re making it sound dirty,” he reproached her. He felt the vein in his temple start to throb again.
“No, Shane. You are the one who made it dirty a long time ago! Not me.”
“Goddammit,” he growled, taking the plate from her. She had been holding it between them like a protective shield. “Whatever happened between me and you shouldn’t matter now. Brady is my son, too. Do you understand that? I want to know who my son is, and I want him to know that I’m his dad.”
“I can’t just tell him as if it were nothing, Shane. He’s only six years old and—”
When she stopped herself mid-sentence, her expression became frightened. Shane turned to follow her gaze and found Brady standing in the doorway, staring at Shane with wide eyes.
“Brady!” Thorne scolded him hastily. “I told you to stay in the living room!”
The boy didn’t answer at first, instead studying Shane with an inscrutable expression that made Shane nervous. He wondered what was going on in his son’s head. The look in his eyes was almost fierce.
“Brady,” Thorne snapped.
“I was hungry, Mom.”
She took the plate back from Shane and handed it to her son. “Here you are, love. Please go back into the living room. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
The boy didn’t budge, just kept staring at Shane. He didn’t even glance down at his pizza.
“I want you to go back to the living room, Brady.” Thorne’s voice sounded increasingly nervous.
But she hadn’t banked on the unconditional curiosity of a child. “Is he really my dad?” Brady asked suddenly.
For an instant, Shane thought his heart would stop.
He threw an alarmed glance at Thorne, who had turned ashen. “I-I’ll explain later, Brady,” she stammered. “W-would you please take your pizza to the living room now and eat it there?”
But the boy was unfazed by his mother’s obvious shock. “I can eat here in the kitchen.”
Shane almost felt like laughing, because that was exactly the kind of answer he’d have given his mother at that age. The cocky smile on the little guy’s face hit him painfully as he recognized himself in the child’s face.
Thorne did not seem as fascinated with her son as Shane was right now, She looked as if she was about to lose her patience. “I said we’ll talk about this later, Brady.”
“But Mom,” he protested immediately, �
�I heard him say he’s my dad!”
“Wonderful, Shane,” she ranted, turning on him. “Look what you’ve done now!”
He saw the panic in her eyes and couldn’t be angry with her. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Thorne, we should all sit down and talk—”
“No,” she said sternly, “you’re leaving. Right now.”
Before Shane could object, Brady cut in. “Mom! If he’s my dad, he can stay and eat pizza with us. The other kids at school eat pizza with their dads, too. I know they do.”
Shane could sense that she was close to a hysterical breakdown. She surely felt trapped in a corner. He would have loved to stay and just watch Brady for hours, but he realized it would be best to beat a retreat for today. Thorne was beside herself, and he knew she could be almost as stubborn as he was, so talking wouldn’t lead anywhere. And he didn’t want to risk making her even angrier with him than she already was. If he wanted a chance to see his son in the future, he had to communicate with and get along with Thorne. That would prove impossible if he acted like an idiot now.
So he took a business card from his wallet and placed it on the kitchen table.
“I’m going to leave you alone now,” he said. “Here’s my card. Thorne, you can call me anytime you want. Any time.”
She nodded and murmured, “Okay,” but her eyes were wide, almost vacant.
He felt a lump in his throat as he turned to Brady, who wore a frown and looked at Shane with suspicion. Shane couldn’t stop himself from briefly putting his hand on his son’s head. “I’ll see you again soon, Brady.”
Chapter 6
It was a tradition in the Fitzpatrick family to go to church together on Sundays and, once there, pretend to listen attentively to a boring mass, before sitting down at home for the wonderful food that Ellen Fitzpatrick prepared. None of her children liked missing the Sunday family dinner.
It was the same this week. All the Fitzpatricks were assembled around the large dinner table in the dining room, cheerful and laughing, ready to dig into the Sunday roast, which Ellen and her daughter-in-law, Hayden, had cooked together.
But while his brothers were enjoying their food with the usual satisfied abandon, and his sister warily guarded her overloaded plate, Shane wasn’t hungry. Since the day before yesterday, everything he ate seemed to stick in his throat and try to choke him. The day before yesterday, he’d found out he was the father of a six-year-old boy named Brady.
Of course Brady and his mom were the reason Shane couldn’t sleep, or think about anything else. She still hadn’t called, and that made him terribly nervous. Didn’t she know how confused he was and how helpless he felt? And how impatiently he was waiting to be allowed to get to know Brady—to really spend time with his son?
He had only been able to catch a glimpse of the boy, and now he was dying of curiosity. Any father would need to know more.
“I think she’s asleep now,” Hayden interrupted his repetitive thoughts as she came waddling into the dining room and placed a baby monitor on the table next to her plate.
“You look like you could do with some extra sleep as well.” Kayleigh raised her fork, a piece of potato atop it, and pointed it at her blonde sister-in-law, who did look rather worse for wear.
“The cold makes Joey a little grumpy,” Hayden dismissed the concern and sat down in her chair. “That’s all.”
“Sleep is important—especially for pregnant women,” Kyle piped up. He was in his first semester of med school and kept bombarding his entire family with his newly acquired knowledge of the human body and its functions. “Remember that your metabolic rate is higher now and that you need more energy.”
Hayden grinned at him good-naturedly. “Yes, Doctor.”
Ryan, however, put into words what the rest of them were thinking. “I could have told her the same without a degree in medicine.”
“Pardon me,” Kayleigh made herself heard, “but I have to correct you there, Ryan. Kyle is in his first semester, he does not have a degree in anything. That’ll take a few more years.”
“Thanks a lot, Kayleigh,” Kyle complained with a scowl.
His twin brother snorted loudly. “Your constant lectures on diseases and prostate exams is annoying. And gross! Don’t you see that?”
Kyle’s answering snort sounded exactly the same as his twin’s. “Don’t tell me you’re still annoyed that I told you men are supposed to get their prostate examined on a regular basis?”
“My prostate is working just fine. If you want to, you can ask my last date!”
Ellen Fitzpatrick squeezed her eyes shut and said a quick prayer, while Heath couldn’t suppress a merry laugh.
Their mother was a devout Catholic who would have preferred her children to wait until they were married to have sex. But that train had long since left the station. The twins loved to brag about their exploits, and Kayleigh never minced words, either. While their dad had found it hilarious when his kids teased each other about their dates—or lack thereof—their mom had gone to church and hastened to light yet another candle for her offspring.
Shane thought about how much he would have liked to speak with his dad now. Joseph had been the most levelheaded and patient man he knew, and Shane thought he might have had a solution for his problem with Thorne. There had been a lot of times when Shane had missed his father, but the fact that he wasn’t here now to be told that he had a grandson bothered Shane more than anything else before.
His siblings didn’t seem to notice his gloomy mood. As usual, their voices were becoming increasingly loud and boisterous.
“That’s bullshit, Ryan!” Kyle laughed. “We’re living together, remember? I know for a fact that your most recent date sent you home before nine!”
“Nine p.m.?” Hayden giggled. “Even I know what that means.”
Kayleigh threw her a curious glance. “Oh, is that an allusion to your own sex life, Hayden? Is my brother neglecting you already?”
Heath didn’t see the humor in this turn of the conversation. “Watch your mouth, you brat, if you don’t want us to start scrutinizing your sex life for a change.”
“Have any of you been to confession recently?” Ellen Fitzpatrick interrupted, following her question with a sigh that seemed to come straight from her soul.
“Mom,” Kyle said with a laugh, “no offense, but what good is confession if the sinner just turns around and commits the same sins all over again as soon as they leave church?”
“Why don’t you stick to your rectal examinations?” Ryan hissed.
“Interesting that you assumed I was talking about you, Ryan,” his twin countered laughingly. “Why is that?”
Ryan didn’t think that was funny either and glared at his brother across the table. “Because you couldn’t have been talking about yourself, Kyle. To be honest, I have been wondering about you. Considering how excitedly you talk about prostate exams!”
“Guys, we’re eating,” Kayleigh said with her mouth full.
Her oldest brother gave her a withering look. “Since when are you against about inappropriate topics at the dinner table?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Heath snorted. “It means that, normally, you’re the one forcing disgusting stories on the rest of us. I think you may have chosen the wrong career. You should be writing horror movies.”
Wrinkling her nose, she gave him a haughty nod. “All I’m trying to do here is enjoy Mom’s delicious roast without picturing Ryan with a urologist pushing a finger up his rectum.”
Ryan made a face as if someone had just told him the food on his plate was made of maggots.
“Because clearly,” Kayleigh went on, “Kyle seems bent on becoming one such urologist.”
As Kyle scoffed, Hayden muttered dryly, “Anyone want to talk about dirty diapers next?”
Ryan ignored her. “Good God, Kayleigh!”
“Don’t ‘good God’ me,” his sister rebuked him. “You can’t fool me. I’m an emergency-room physi
cian. Most men get a kick out of it. Someone inserting stuff in their rectum, I mean.”
With a loud groan, Heath pushed his plate away. “Okay, that’s it. I’m on a diet.”
“Kayleigh, love,” her mother said, “not on a Sunday.”
“We’re all adults here, Mom.”
“I might be an adult,” Ryan shouted, sounding very unlike an adult, “but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about rectal exams while I’m eating, thank you very much!”
Kayleigh laughed, unconcerned. “You’re an awful sissy, Ryan. If you knew all the things I’ve seen—”
“Please, no details today,” Heath pleaded. “Your stories spoil my appetite faster than food poisoning. If you’re going to tell us about that arm amputation again, please let me know in advance so I can go eat in the kitchen.”
Kyle made a vague noise. “I don’t get it, Heath. I drove in your truck for two years, and you never had any problem dealing with blood or really gruesome injuries. First aid, inserting an IV, you do what’s necessary. But at home you go postal when we talk about that stuff.”
“I only go postal when I’m trying to eat something and Kayleigh insists on talking about the disgusting afflictions of her patients! Or when I have to listen to conversations about rectal exams. All I’m asking is that we talk about something else while we eat.”
Shane picked at his food and threw his sister a curious glance. Her eyes were full of mischief, and he was sure she would take her brother’s request as an incentive to do the exact opposite. There was no denying that the minx had a perverse streak. He leaned back with a sigh, ready to enjoy the show.
“Oh, and lest I forget,” Kayleigh said with a smile, “you’ll never guess whose neighbor was hospitalized a month ago with five tennis balls in his rectum!”
Hayden promptly choked on a sip of iced tea. “FIVE?”
Even though Ryan had just proclaimed his disinterest in his sister’s stories, he now leaned precariously far forward. “Who? Whose neighbor was it?”
“Tsk, tsk.” Kayleigh clucked her tongue. “Confidentiality, Ryan!”
Blast From The Past (The Boston Five Series #2) Page 7
