“Thatcher?” Abby was pulling on my arm. “The turtle is back in his bin, he’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. Children who grow up hurting animals have a tendency to become serial killers. Again, what the hell-”
“THATCHER! Stop!” Abby pulled against my arm, this time whirling me around to her and it was the troubling look, the shock and confusion that was etched into her face, that caused me to stop. Tears streamed down Thayer’s blotchy face and I realized my own heart was beating madly.
My world came crashing down around me. Outside in the evening air, with the two people I loved more than life itself, my world halted.
Ended.
My dad raising his fist to me when he’d caught me sneaking a Tootsie Roll from his home office blurred my vision. I’d been about nine at the time, God, it was amazing how some memories could stay so vivid in one’s brain. I’d been nine and I’d only wanted one. There was no deeper meaning behind it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to have candy without permission, but it was just one. They had looked so good sitting in that candy jar.
He’d been so mad at me. Shaking me and demanding answers from me that I didn’t have. It was a Tootsie Roll, for crying out loud. I was nine. There were no answers I could give him that would have made him not be upset. Thoroughly pissed. The classic example of who he was and what I’d find out was him in the following years. Mean. Spiteful. Now I know his attitude was abusive in certain situations, depending how angry he’d gotten.
Thayer was still crying when I shook Abby off my arm and all but ran into the house, locking myself in my room like a sullen, spoiled brat. There was absolutely no way this could ever work. Pathetic to be playing house for the past three weeks. That’s all this was. Deep down I knew what I was and what I wasn’t. Father material was definitely what I wasn’t. The scared look on Thayer’s face would be forever seared into my mind. How could I ever forget that? Forget that I was the man who’d put it there.
“Thatcher. Open the door.”
My bedroom door rattled as she tried opening it. No. I couldn’t do this anymore. What kind of man was I? The fact that I was all too willing to think I could get “ownership” over Thayer as if he were some dog and then have this uncontrollable temper, proved I was nowhere near ready – near deserving – to be a dad. Whether he was my son or not.
“Open the door.”
“Go away, Abby. I’m in no mood to talk to you.”
“Fine. I’ll sit here until you come out.”
Whatever. It’d be awhile. I could wait until they went to bed. How could I look at Thayer again and forget my outburst? How could he ever love me as a dad? How could he ever want me as one? My chest ached with guilt as I thought about his eagerness earlier this morning at the newspaper. The way he’d casually thrown in that I was a hero. Some hero. It hadn’t stopped me from wanting to be a hero though. At least his hero. It tugged at my heart when he’d said it. No denying that. Even if I knew it wasn’t true, the fact that he thought it was, made me want to be a hero.
So much for all that bullshit.
I threw on some headphones so I wouldn’t have to listen to their banter and footsteps above me. I figured if I could drown out my thoughts by listening to some classic rock, I wouldn’t have to think about the way I’d blown up at my son. I wouldn’t have to think about my childhood. I wouldn’t have to think about my dad.
I definitely wouldn’t have to think about how I was disappointing Abigail. Going in self-destruct mode, I figured this would be a good time to tell her about the will, too. If I was going to let them go, what would it hurt? She was going to move out anyway.
A few hours went by as I sulked alone in my room. Still too angry to make an appearance. I jumped when I felt a dip in my bed. Abigail. How the fuck did she get in here?
She held up a straightened-out paperclip, a smile on her face, mouthing something I couldn’t hear because of the headphones. Irritated and a little proud of her paperclip maneuver, I removed the headphones.
“You’re not welcome in here, Abigail. Go away.”
“Make me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Will you relax and hear me out?”
“There is not a goddamn word you can say to me that will make my actions okay.”
“I think there is. It was a natural reaction, Thatcher. He shouldn’t have thrown the turtle down like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I lost it, Abby. This is why I can never be a father.”
“You didn’t lose it. Kids do things to parents all the time that make us crazy. Make us want to pull our hair out. Where do you think that saying, “I’ve had it up to here” came from? You aren’t like your dad, Thatcher.”
“I could have been. What if you weren’t there? What would have happened?”
“Are you afraid you would have hit him?”
My silence spoke volumes and she crawled up the bed to straddle me.
“Don’t do this.”
“No, Thatcher. You need to have more confidence.” She tucked her toes beneath my sides so her knees were up and her legs spread apart. She’d since changed into her pajama shorts which were cut short along her thighs exposing all of the love bites I’d given her and I tried hard to avoid glancing down again.
“Look at me,” she said. “I don’t believe for one second that you would ever hit our son. Or me. These past few weeks have shown me that you are not abusive. You’re a parent. At least, you’re learning to be a parent.”
My throat was dry and thick with guilt, self-disgust. I didn’t know what to say because I was like my father. I was his son and I had his genetics in me. Her soft fingers caressed my goatee and I refused to lean into her touch. Refused to grip her hips like I wanted.
“Being a parent is hard. You gave us up once; are you really going to run away again?” Her voice cracked as she asked me this and when I looked into her teary eyes, I realized I didn’t want to run away from her. From them. But I didn’t know how to be a parent. I didn’t know how to not lose it like I did earlier.
“You’re nothing like your dad, okay? I promise you. When I see you with Thayer, playing with the football and taking him for rides on the four-wheeler, a part of my heart thinks we’re going to be a family. Wants to be a family. But having a son and a wife or a girlfriend; it’s not easy.”
“I know it’s not. I admire you every day for the way you’ve raised him.”
“Ask any parent out there, Thatcher; we have our ups and downs. Sometimes we say or do things we later regret or don’t even mean at the time; it doesn’t make you a bad father. It makes you a parent. That’s what parents do. We say things that make us feel bad later.”
“I’m always laid back, Abby. Something in me…just snapped.” I shook my head, “The thing is, I know he didn’t mean what he did. I know he didn’t want to hurt the turtle. It just happened. My dad always used to demand answers from me. Answers I never had because it just was. I was my dad right then, don’t you see?”
“No. I don’t. I see a new parent. You’re not going to change into the Parent of the Year in three weeks. Would you quit being so stubborn?”
We stared at each other for a long time. I still felt like a sulking child. I had good reason though. I loved my dad, but I hated him, too. I didn’t want Thayer to love me and hate me. I wanted him to love me. Period.
“What’s happening between us, Abigail?”
“I don’t know. Good stuff. We’ve been having a wonderful time since we moved in. Haven’t you?”
“The best.”
“Thayer needs you in his life. You’re his father, Thatcher. His real father. You have to get over your fear of being a bad parent. Let me help you. Let’s parent together.” She ran her hand through my hair, “I want to tell him you’re his father but I refuse to do that if you aren’t going to stick around.”
“Like you be the good parent and I’ll be the bad parent?” I joked.
“Funny. No, like if you want to
keep getting into my panties, you’re going to have to man up. Be a dad or no panties for you.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her, “Have you always been so demanding?”
“Only when I need to be. Now, panties or no panties?”
“In almost every situation, I prefer no panties, but this…this will require me to reassess my preferences.”
“Are you hard?” she asked in disbelief as she wiggled her bottom into me.
“I can’t help it. Look at the way you’re sitting on me. I can practically see your pussy.”
“Unbelievable. Here I thought you were being too hard on yourself and you’re thinking about sex?”
“I wasn’t thinking about sex until you brought up your panties. Where is Thayer now? In bed?”
“No. My mom came and picked him up. I knew this would require my undivided attention to convince you not to run away from us again.”
“I didn’t run away. I realized I didn’t have what you and Thayer needed, so I stepped aside.”
“That’s bullshit. I’ve been telling my heart not to fall for you because I wasn’t sure you’d be able to stick around for the long haul, and I pretty much called it.”
“I thought I could handle this. You. Him. I’m still not sure I can.”
“Instead of running away this time, will you stick around and give us a chance? Please. I’ll let you into my panties…”
I flipped her on to her back and nestled in between her thighs making sure to rub my extremely hard cock against the seam of her little shorts as I breathed in the smell of her hair. My shower gel. My shampoo. On her. And it was fucking good.
“I’ll try, Abigail,” I croaked. “I’ll really try.”
“Good. Don’t let me down this time. Don’t let us down. Be the man and father I know you are.”
I ignored the tightness in my chest as her green eyes bored into mine, seemingly looking into my soul. Looking as if she believed in me, much the way Thayer did when he said I was a hero.
Chapter Sixteen
Abigail
I squinted at the clock in Thatcher’s room. Two-twenty-nine. Thatcher’s muscular arm lay flung over his face in sleep. The bed sheet was rumpled between us, resting along his lower stomach displaying all of his dark curly hair that led from his penis to his chest. It was perfect. At least to me. A thin trail marked the way to his chest and nipples where it then spread out making me want to thread my fingers through the short hair.
I admired the tattoo on his forearm. Strong arms and thick fingers I’d dreamt about covering my body so many times, it was difficult to believe how far we’d come since then. I believed in him so much it hurt. Even though I told myself over and over not to allow my heart to get involved, it clearly had a mind of its own. Despite what I tried telling myself, the truth is that I’ve never stopped loving Thatcher – my heart has been his long before I got pregnant and married Adrian.
It hurt me to think he didn’t have more confidence in himself to be a father. It hurt to think he thought of himself any less – that he wasn’t worthy or good enough – when he was the best man I knew. He’d done hurt me like crazy when he left me back then. But I still loved him. Even all the times I told myself I couldn’t or that I shouldn’t. I still did. I still looked to him for strength and support; Lord knows I had no one else in my life to give that to me.
He wanted me. He cherished me and cared about my thoughts and ideas. He wanted to please me on a level that was all his own. Sexual, yes. But also, just because he wanted to see me happy. The way he would look at me and bat those extremely long lashes at me, how he’d made sure I was comfortable here, having Grace buy us clothes. Even today, just standing alongside me as we watched my workplace burn up, he never left my side.
I don’t care what he thought; he was good to Thayer. In this short amount of time, he’d been teaching Thayer so much. With us so used to having Adrian gone on business, it was nice to have another adult around to help. It was nice to have a man to talk to that flirted with me and made me feel special. It was especially nice for Thayer to have an adult male around the house that wasn’t our eighty-year-old neighbor. Being around the older crowd gave me so much pleasure, but it was no place for a young boy. He needed a young daddy to teach him all the things a boy his age should start learning.
Was our little conversation going to be enough to make him believe in himself? To make him want to try and be a parent, despite those ups and downs? I reached out and placed my hand on his lower belly, trailing that dark hair with my fingertips.
“Wake up,” I whispered.
“No,” he mumbled.
“I want to finish our book. I’ll read out loud while you listen this time.”
“How about we sleep?”
“I can’t sleep. We’re almost done any way. And tomorrow, how about I come to work with you? I don’t have anywhere to be now and I could be your assistant.”
That got his attention as my hand went lower. His arm snaked around my middle where he pulled me against him and started to nuzzle the skin beneath my ear.
“My assistant, huh? I’ve never had an assistant.”
“You will tomorrow if you let me finish this book right now.”
“You’re relentless, Abby. Fine.” He fumbled on the night stand and handed the book across the bed to me. “I thought you said I could tie you up.”
“I did. I said when you get a gray tie like this,” I pointed to the book cover, “you could tie me up. Have you gotten one?”
“I’ll have one here tomorrow.”
He pulled our pillows up and maneuvered me toward him so I was leaning into his chest. With his steady heartbeat against my back, I read our book. Once I’d finally finished, I turned the lamp off and got comfortable in the bed where we moved around until I was cocooned into his arms.
“It was pretty good. I’ll be sure to get the other two when I get the tie tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on it, Thatcher.”
When I awoke the next morning, I was alone in bed. I hoped this was the beginning of a brand-new day for Thatcher and I. Whatever it took, I had to get him to see reason as far as being a good father was concerned.
And I was going to work with him. I was excited about that. Following the smell of coffee, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup and seeing how Thatcher’s phone was where I left it the night before when I called Mama, I picked it up and used it again.
“Mama? How’s Thayer?”
“He’s fine. Don’t ya think I know how to take care of my grandson?”
“Yes, of course. I just wanted to check on him since it was last-minute that I asked you to come pick him up.”
“How’s everything going with that man?”
“Fine. I think. With the setback yesterday, we talked and I think I may have talked sense into him.”
“You’ve fallen for him all over again, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, Mama. I have. I understand now what you’ve been meaning about never letting him go. I never did, you know? I’m scared though. I’m scared he won’t stick around for the long haul. Especially if yesterday was any indication.”
“He loves you guys. He’ll do the right thing, Abigail.”
“I sure hope. Look Mama, I have to hang up. Someone else is calling.” I quickly pressed the right button to switch the call to the new caller.
“Hello?”
“Abby? It’s Miranda. They caught the person whose been starting all the fires around town.”
“What? When? Who was it?”
“You’re not going to believe this. It was Grant Hoffner.”
“Grant Hoffner? Do I know him?” I searched my memory for a guy by that name. Nothing came to mind.
“Yeah, at least you know of him. He’s a firefighter. He’s been the first guy at every single fire lately. He was the first at yours.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“I’m dead fucking serious. The Lone Star police arrested him early this mornin
g.”
“Why would a firefighter start all these fires? I don’t understand.”
“To be a celebrity. Why else? I’ve spent the last two hours researching all of this from home. It’s a classic case of wanting to be a celebrity. A hero. Start a fire, be the first on the scene to save the day. Prove to everyone that he is a hero. A good firefighter.”
“I’m shocked, Miranda.”
“I know, me too.”
“That’s why no one, thankfully, has ever been hurt. Because he never wanted to hurt anyone. He wanted the claim to fame. Which is why he burned the newspaper. The two house fires didn’t give him any accolades, but when he was first on the scene at the newspaper, the fire marshal was quick to let everyone know it was Grant.”
“What about those other fires?”
“Grant wasn’t around then. So those are still being labeled as accidental. These kinds of fires, where the firefighter commits them, come from newer firemen or women. They want people to take notice of them. Of how good of a job they are doing – can do. When he was the first on the scene at your place and at that other house, no one took notice. Which is why he burnt the newspaper down.”
“Why me though? Why my house?”
“Can’t say. I personally don’t think he knew who owned the house. I think it was a matter of convenience. Right place, right time kind of thing.”
“Either way, glad the guy has been arrested. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem. I’ll let you know if I hear any more.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
It was so scary to think about the men out there hired to protect you and to find out they were the ones causing the problems. My mind always went to the what ifs and I couldn’t help the thought of what if Thayer and I were inside when that fire broke out? It was pure luck we hadn’t been home at the time.
I still wasn’t sure who the guy was but I was happy he got arrested. Thatcher came through the front door, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and tennis shoes. He held a wadded-up t-shirt in his hand and his body glistened with sweat. I swear it should be illegal that he walks around like that. He put the t-shirt up to his forehead and wiped away some sweat and…how I could I be so turned on by the way he looked all sweaty?
Wild: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 2) Page 16
