“I hope you don’t mind I used your phone to call my mama and Miranda called. They found the arsonist. They arrested him.”
“Anyone I know?”
“It was a firefighter.”
“What?”
“Yep. A firefighter. His name is Grant somebody.”
“Grant Hoffner. He was at your house fire. Remember, the one who handed us the turtle? His mom works at the gas station across from the feed store. What the hell was he doing that for?”
“Okay, I couldn’t place a name to a face. Wow. He seemed so sincere. He did it for recognition. He wanted to be a hero, I guess.”
“Aren’t all firefighters’ heroes?”
“I know, right? Apparently not to him. He wanted more recognition. He wanted to be the best on the squad.”
“Fucking stupid if you ask me. Guy had a good gig.”
He trudged over to the kitchen sink and the raw smell of him hit my nostrils causing my lady parts to clench in unexpected desire. Dang pheromones. He bent down to gulp water straight out of the faucet, his muscles rippled and flexed and I was enamored that this same man had his hands all over me last night.
“What you are thinking about Abigail?”
“That you stink. You should really go take a shower.”
“If I stink why are you giving me that look?”
“What look?” I asked as he stepped closer to me.
“That sexy look you get on your face every time I make you come. The pulse in your neck is fluttering. You are definitely turned on. Come on. Follow me.”
He pulled my hand and before I knew it, we were in his shower together and he was soaping my body. He took great care in using the sponge to wash my legs, up my thighs, and over the fading bite marks he’d left a few days ago. He smoothed it over my tummy and trailed the sponge slow across my breasts, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles as he went.
He pulled the shower head from the wall and washed all the soap from my body. It was this moment that I fell in love with him all over again. When he gripped my wrists, and placed my hands against the tile and used the shower head to spray the soap away from my neck and back, it was then that my heart gave away all the insecurities I felt about trusting him. When he replaced the shower head and nudged my legs apart going down on his knees, I knew I was a goner. That whatever the future held for us, I was diving in head-first and all I could hope for was that Thatcher wouldn’t disappoint me this time. That he would recognize his own strength and be the man I knew was in his heart.
His fingers trailed along the folds between my legs and I gasped as his fingers entered me.
I bucked in to him as he drove his fingers into me with a maddening pressure. He bit the sensitive skin on my butt cheek and I screamed in surprise. Possibly, had he not been making me die with pleasure, I would have smacked him for that stunt. His other hand came around and flicked my quivering bead over and over like some magician.
“Turn around.” I cried out as he withdrew his fingers and turned me around. The water fell over us, along my breasts and over his shoulders and much of his face.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. I was so close. My sex clenched in need, trying to find a way to overcome the loss of pressure.
“I’m not. I want you to come in my mouth.”
Then his lips were on me there. His fingers penetrated me once again. My hands fondled my breasts as I rolled each nipple between my thumb and forefinger. His tongue flicked the hard pleasure point between all the wetness and I gasped, convulsing into a chain of spasms around him.
I ached. I was spent. My knees felt like jelly but his relentless mouth kept licking and sucking and biting my clitoris. He was an expert at this and who was I to give up? My breasts throbbed as he worked me over. He was skilled at this, pulling my lips apart and using his teeth to bite that hard bud and sucking it into his mouth. The second he did that, I came, pulling his head into me. Goodness, probably suffocating him. Or drowning him.
“Here. Let me wash your hair.”
With shaky hands and wobbly legs, I handed him his two-in-one hair wash, the same as I used in his upstairs bathroom, and he lathered my hair. I couldn’t speak over the lump in my throat, afraid that I would cry instead.
This was all too perfect.
I couldn’t fight the nagging sensation deep inside my heart that his attention and all this perfection was a mirage. Was it possible that we’ve finally made it to a place for us to be together? Was it time?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Thatcher’s deep voice vibrated against my ear.
I let loose crying and throwing myself into his arms. “I don’t want this to end, Thatcher. It hurt too much last time. You hurt me too much.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”
“But what about everything else? What about Thayer? What happens if he does something wrong, gets in trouble at school or something and he needs discipline, are you going to be able to do it? Or are you going to run for the hills?”
“I told you I would try, Abby. It’s the best I can do. You have my word that I will try.”
Those words were a balm against my skin. His word. He was finally giving me his word. Not Adrian, not his dad or his mom. Not Thayer. Me. He was giving me his word that he would try. Did he love me? I didn’t know. But he was giving me his word and that was one of the things I’ve been wanting from him so it was enough.
The next few days were much of the same. I went to work with Thatcher, sometimes I would borrow his truck and go out to see my mom, otherwise, I stayed with him and helped with whatever he needed. I got the insurance check for my house and Thatcher took Thayer and I shopping where I’d promptly bought a new cell phone and Thatcher promised me he’d help me find a car this coming weekend.
I went to work with him during the day and at night, we spent time with our son. He’d had his guard up now, Thatcher did, every time Thayer was around and not in school. Thatcher took great care in making sure he counted to ten before he went off the deep end. Which was all his doing as I saw no reason for him to change. He was a parent for goodness sake! I’d told him and told him until I was blue in the face but Thatcher had something to prove and I had nothing to do with it.
“Your dad is here.” I said to Thatcher in a panic Friday morning as we sat inside his feed store. The boys hadn’t been coming around the last few days because I was there. I felt bad I was encroaching on their rituals of peanut cracking and all, but Thatcher insisted he preferred my company over their’s.
“I asked him to come.”
“Why? You never want him around.”
“I wanted to tell him about Thayer. It’s time the cat is let out of the bag, don’t you think?”
This was unexpected. Okay, not entirely. I don’t know why it was throwing me in a tizzy. What did I care if everyone knew Thatcher was Thayer’s son? Half the town probably already guessed it what with the way they looked so similar.
He pushed his stool back and went outside to meet his dad and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his way of showing me how serious he was at being a father to Thayer. Of being a parent and not being worried about inheriting some trait where he thought he’d harm his kid like his daddy did to him.
By telling his father, he was taking a giant step of ownership.
I was proud of him. I was excited for us and what the future would hold.
I kept my eye on the men, trying to gauge his father’s reaction when his dad finally jumped back into his shiny pickup truck and tore out of the parking lot. I couldn’t decipher if it had been a good conversation or a bad one. But I was opting for bad.
“What happened?” I asked, quick as Thatcher walked back inside.
“Nothing. Same as usual. I told him about Thayer. He blamed me for blaming him for my fuck-ups. He berated me for telling him about his grandson five years too late. A grandson, I vowed, he would never see.”
“Thatcher. Things may change between the two of you someday.”
�
��I doubt it.”
“Well, I hope they do. It’d be nice for Thayer to meet the rest of his grandparents.”
“We’ll see. Is the plan still on tonight to tell him about me? About us?”
I smiled, “Yeah, I think he needs to know you are his real father. It will most likely confuse the heck out of him but it’s time.”
“Good.”
Thatcher stood before me and wrapped my legs around his. His soft lips found mine and he brushed a kiss across them.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For giving me a second chance. For believing in me.”
The bell chimed above the door and he pulled away from me as I stood. The mayor, Richard Stevens, came in wearing golf clothes and carrying a sheet of paper.
“Good morning!” the mayor greeted us.
“Good morning,” we said in unison.
“What can I help you with?” Thatcher asked and I started busying myself rearranging Thatcher’s desk.
“Oh, I have a list here.”
Thatcher’s laughter floated around me as I stared at the document in my hand. It was a sheaf of papers, but he’d had it folded open over the staple so I could only see the single page. A section of the paper had been highlighted with a yellow highlighter and I started reading the document.
For Thatcher A. Patterson to receive the four-hundred and fifty thousand dollars that has been apportioned to him, my grandson must show proper documentation of having custody of his own heir. E.g., a child of his own, my great-grandson. In the event, eight months have passed beginning on the day of my death, and no heir has been proven, Thatcher A. Patterson will be ineligible to receive any and all monies that have been appropriated for this purpose. That money will then be donated to a local charity(-ies). See attached Exhibit C for a list of those charities.
Please tell me this didn’t mean what I thought it was meaning. Tingles spread throughout my nose warning me of oncoming tears. No. This couldn’t be right. Thatcher wanted us. He wanted me. He wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t pretend he wanted us for the purpose of using Thayer. No. He wasn’t that kind of man.
It hit me then about the Deer Creek store and how it was in obvious turmoil. But he’s closed it. Was that simply because he couldn’t get the money in time? Wait. Was he planning to take my child from me?
I whirled around, clutching the documents in my hands. My blood beat so thick inside my head, the mayor and his conversation sounded as if I were under water and they were talking above me.
Everything was in slow motion as the mayor smiled on his way out. I hardly registered the concerned look on his face before Thatcher turned around and looked at me.
“Abby? Are you okay? Why don’t you sit down, you don’t look so good.”
“What the hell is this?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.
“What?” he plucked the paper out of my hands. “Abby, you have to listen to me, okay? Before you get upset, I- “
“Before I get upset? What is this? Are you trying to take Thayer away from me?”
“No. I would never do that,” he looked at me as if I were crazy.
“What are you trying to do then? All of this was just a lie? How could you do this to me? Again?”
“I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.”
But I wasn’t listening to him anymore. My heart came to a stop. All of the feelings I’d been having over the three of us being together, ended. I was suddenly so sick of it all. Sick of trying to convince him he was a good man, sick of wishing he wanted me, sick of hoping he would ask us to stay with him, sick of trying to get him to see what a great father he was.
“Shut up, Thatcher! You lied to me! You lied to us. This whole fucking time, you’ve been lying!” I screamed. “I hate you!”
“You don’t mean that, Abigail.”
“I mean it. I hate you. I hate myself for falling in love with you again when all of this was a scheme for you to get my son!”
“No-”
“Don’t touch me, you bastard!” I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath, backing away from him. “Stay away from me. You are a liar. A liar. Oh, my gosh, the joke is on me, isn’t it? I’ve been trying so hard to get you to see what a great dad you are and you must have been laughing your ass off at the irony of it all. I can’t believe I let you touch me. I can’t believe I let you tie me up with the stupid fucking tie last night!” I yelled.
“Abby, calm down. Someone is going to call the police-”
“I am not calming down. Actually,” I took another deep breath. Then two more. “I’m calm. I’m done here. You should be so fucking proud of yourself, Thatcher. You’ve managed to ruin us once and for all.”
Chapter Seventeen
Thatcher
You should be so fucking proud of yourself, Thatcher. I wasn’t proud. Not by a long shot. She rarely cussed and hearing those words come out of her mouth, I knew she was finished. I was an asshat. She’d stormed off, presumably to her mother’s house, because when I got home from work, the house was eerily quiet. Too quiet. I considered going in to The Tavern for a bite to eat but I couldn’t force myself to move.
Even running, which usually gave me a piece of mind, felt like scum on the bottom of my shoe. I popped the top off my beer and looked down at the empty spot on my porch where Spider-Man’s bin used to sit. Fuck. I didn’t even like that turtle and here I was sulking about him too.
All her and Thayer’s things were gone when I got here. Her clothes, Thayer’s little football and game of Memory that had sat out on the table for the past few weeks. It was like it had all been a dream. Not a trace of either of them anywhere. Well, except for the gray tie she’d left in shreds on my bed. She’d not only felt it was important to destroy it, but to leave the remains in a place where I could see them clear as day.
Her panties and bra that she’d had hanging to dry in the laundry room were gone as were her pair of glasses she started leaving in my room. They’d constantly been a prop in our relationship and now they were gone.
Everything. Even the damn turtle.
I’d fucked up. It started almost five years ago when she told me she was pregnant. Since then, no matter how much older I got, or how much wiser I thought I was, I hadn’t changed. Not emotionally anyway. I was still the fucked-up kid, brooding over my childhood. Wondering who was going to take care of me and ensure me that I didn’t turn out like my dad.
I checked my phone, hoping she would text me back. My messages glared back at me. Even they looked at me like I was an idiot. Asking how had I managed to fuck this up another time. I checked my recent calls in my phone. I’d tried calling her three times now. It went straight to voicemail every time. She hadn’t set up her voicemail yet, so all I got was the standard operator telling me the phone number and how I should leave a message. I never understood that. I called. I know the Goddamn number.
Even this beer didn’t taste good. It tasted like Abigail when I kissed her on warm nights like tonight when we read outside. I closed Deer Creek because I couldn’t go through with the idea of using them to obtain the money. Sure, I’d still been on the fence about coming clean with her. I’d even envisioned in my head how we’d laugh about this ten years down the road and how stupid I’d been to think I could pull the wool over her eyes. So much for ten years down the road. She wouldn’t even text me back.
She hated me.
My heart shattered into pieces falling directly to my stomach when she screamed that. My mind replayed her face over and over as she yelled – screamed - at me at the top of her lungs. I’ve never seen her that mad in all the time I’ve known her. Abby didn’t get mad. Not at anyone, ever. Always the optimist, she saw two sides to every story and never got nasty with anyone.
Just me.
I dumped my beer out into the grass, I hadn’t a clue what I was going to do with myself now. Shit, I couldn’t even recall what I did before they moved in with me. I guess I just worked. Guess tha
t was what I was going back to do.
Tomorrow, maybe she would answer my calls.
~
“What the hell happened?”
“She saw the will.”
“You never told her about it?” Cap asked.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like how?”
“Like you’re all judgmental. Like you knew I should have told her.”
“Dude, you should have.”
“Fuck off. When would there ever have been a time to bring that up? Over dinner? No. There was never a good moment to bring up the fact that I was an asshole.”
Cap cracked the shell of a peanut and dumped the nuts into his hand. He shrugged, “Now you’re hosed. No girl. No son. Definitely lost the half a rock. What the hell are you going to do?”
“Beats me. Work I guess. Go clean out the Deer Creek store. Put the building up for sale.”
The bell dinged and Ryan walked in to the store. It was early and I was already crabby. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Abby and Thayer moved out,” Cap answered for me.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to get into it, okay?”
“This have anything to do with Thayer being your son?” Ryan went to the back counter and filled up his coffee mug.
“How’d you find out he’s my son?”
He turned away from the counter, “I didn’t learn it from my so-called friend, asshole. Whole town knows he’s yours.”
“‘Cause of my dad? I barely told him yesterday.”
“Nope. Far as I know, your dad’s been out at Red Hill giving bids out from that tornado that ripped through there. Which I only know because I had to ask him about some metal. We’re not dumb, Thatch, we knew Thayer was yours the second Abby was pregnant.”
“Why didn’t anyone say anything to me?” I asked, frustrated.
“You clearly had your mind made up that you weren’t taking responsibility. Are you going to now?”
Wild: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 2) Page 17
