by Drew Elyse
I was sitting on my usual bench, watching Emmy and trying to keep my mind from going to thoughts of Sketch. My sanity where he was concerned was hanging on by a thread. As ashamed as I was to admit it, he’d spent the majority of the last two weeks in my bed. That didn’t mean I was giving in to the idea of us being together again. I couldn’t do that. We were just…fucking, I guess. People had casual sex all the time. I could totally do it, too.
Right?
“Deep thoughts, and not pleasant ones by the look of it,” a voice said from beside me.
There was a man standing there—attractive, a few years older than me, brown hair and eyes, a friendly smile.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.
“Never mind, it was just a stupid way to start a conversation,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.
Crap. What did I do now? I hated talking to people I didn’t know.
He moved things forward before I made it super awkward. “I’m Derrick, June’s father,” he introduced himself. “You’re Emmy’s mom, right?”
“Oh. Yes. I’m Ashlynn, but everyone calls me Ash.” Then, I thought of something. Emmy said June’s last name was… “Wait. So your name is—”
“Derrick Merryck,” he confirmed before I could finish, nodding. “My parents had a sick sense of humor.”
Unable to help myself, I started laughing. “I’m sorry. Really. But that’s kind of funny.”
“No kind of about it. Of course, it’s annoying when everyone thinks you’re giving them a fake name,” he said. “Especially if it’s a beautiful woman.”
I didn’t catch the meaning in his words until I noticed the intensity in his gaze. I had no idea what to say. I was pretty sure he was flirting. Was I supposed to flirt back? How did I flirt?
“Though, the name doesn’t matter much when you come on too strong to that beautiful woman and blow it,” he quipped.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I’m making this super awkward.”
His smile was comforting. It made me feel a little less like I was totally inept at talking to people. “How about we start over,” he suggested, offering me his hand. Only then did I notice the tattoos beneath the rolled sleeves of his Henley.
“Wow. That’s some serious ink.”
His head snapped down to look at his arm, as though he had no idea the artwork was there. He immediately started pulling down his sleeves.
“Sorry. I forgot that was showing.”
“Don’t cover it on my account,” I insisted, still looking at the colorful design on his left arm. “It’s a beautiful piece.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” he asked what I thought was a strange question.
“No. Why would it?”
He grinned. “A lot of other mothers don’t share your views. I usually keep myself covered when I’m meeting other parents. I couldn’t care less what they think of me, but I don’t want it to become an issue for June.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about it with me. My dad was covered in tattoos and he was an amazing father,” I explained.
“Do you have any tattoos?”
“No. Not yet, anyway.” I’d never had the cash for that kind of thing, but I’d been thinking about it more and more since I saw Sketch’s frequently.
The thought of Sketch had me wondering if it was bad of me to be having that conversation with Derrick. Were we flirting? I didn’t know. If we were, was that bad given what I was doing with Sketch? Or did the fact that it was just casual—at least for me—mean flirting was fine?
Why couldn’t I just be normal and know how to handle things like this?
“Well, if you’re ever looking to get any work done, let me know. The guy who’s done all of mine is local, and he’s an incredible artist.”
Yeah, I could just imagine how well it would go over with Sketch if I got a tattoo from someone else. He’d flip out.
No. I had to stop. Why was I thinking in terms of how Sketch would react? Why was I giving him that power? We weren’t together. I needed to stop thinking of him like we were. Immediately.
I assured Derrick I’d let him know if the time came when I wanted some ink, and the conversation kept right on from there. We talked about our girls, his job as a foreman, the struggle of picking a preschool program. Eventually, he noticed the looks I was exchanging with Jager, who didn’t seem all that comfortable with Derrick sitting by me.
Derrick looked Jager’s way, then back to me. “Is he your man?”
“No. We’re not together,” I assured him.
“Is he Emmy’s dad?”
“No. He’s…like an uncle,” I explained.
“Is my being here going to be a problem?”
“No, he’s just protective of us.” I waved Jager off and tried to reassure him all was well, but he didn’t look placated. Oh well. Whatever Derrick was, he didn’t seem to be a threat to my safety.
“I don’t mean to bring up an awkward subject, but you haven’t mentioned Emmy’s dad. Is he not in the picture?”
“No, he’s not.” At least, he probably wasn’t. Or maybe he was. I didn’t know.
Derrick nodded, but he didn’t look like he was judging me. “I really wish I could say June’s mom wasn’t in ours.”
“Bad?”
“Pretty. Meg is all about herself. I swear, she only wanted to have June because she was on the outside of our social circle when we were married since she didn’t have a kid. When we divorced, she hooked herself a new man with a six-figure income and the social sphere changed. Kids weren’t a part of it anymore. June’s no longer the perfect accessory, so Meg doesn’t care to have her around. Meg moved to upstate New York and only reaches out to June when it suits her, or when she has gone too long without trying to make me miserable.”
“That’s terrible,” I said, my eyes going to June and Emmy. “I couldn’t imagine going even a day without at least talking to Emmy. She’s my whole world.”
He gave me a look I could only describe as approving. I felt that twinge of guilt again and saw Sketch’s face in my head.
Once our babies were too drained to keep playing, we decided it was time to go.
“We’ll have to do this again soon,” he said as we each carried our tuckered out daughters to the parking lot.
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t mean to be forward, but you never mentioned a boyfriend or anything,” he hedged.
I was unsure what to do, but I went with the truth—or mostly the truth. “That’s because there isn’t one.”
“Would you like to go out to dinner with me some time?”
Whoa. Okay. Now what?
He must have read the mini-freak out on my face. “I have a great sitter I trust with June, I’m sure she’d be happy to watch both girls for the evening,” he offered.
I still had no idea what to say.
“Or maybe I just made this very uncomfortable.”
Part of me wanted to say yes, if only to let him off the hook. “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry. I’m just really awkward and not sure what to say.”
“How about yes?”
“I want to, but…”
He read the way I trailed off for what it was. “But there’s someone, even if he isn’t a boyfriend.”
“Kind of. Maybe? I don’t really know. We’re mostly just a disaster.”
“Tell you what,” he said, “how about, for now, we stick to being friends. We can hang out when the girls are together. I’ll be around, and if things with disaster guy end, I’m here. If you aren’t comfortable asking me out if that time comes, you can just drop hints and I’ll ask again.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Don’t worry about keeping me on the hook. I get it. Things might work out with disaster guy, and that’s a risk I’m willing to take. But I have to be honest, I’m hoping they don’t. It’s not every day I meet another single parent who’s a good mom, sweet, and beautiful like you. I’ll be hoping for my chance, and I’m willing to wait around
to see if I get it.”
Damn. That was really sweet.
“Okay,” I gave in.
“Okay,” he repeated.
We exchanged numbers so we could set up a play-date for the girls and went our separate ways. I was so preoccupied with our conversation, I didn’t pay much mind to the roar of pipes approaching the lot, or when they left a minute later.
I was back at the house when she got there. First, I had a head start on her. Second, there was no way she’d go the speed I’d ridden, especially not with Emmy in the car. She also didn’t have the image of the woman she fucking loved giving someone else her number. I’d had to get the fuck back before her so I could try to get some control over myself before I saw her.
This shit between us had to stop. I’d been doing everything I could to get her back for fucking weeks. If she was seriously going to go out with another guy, maybe it was time to give up and accept that my Ash was gone.
But fuck if I could actually bring myself to do that.
I heard her car pulling up, the sound of it echoing so loudly in my head, it was like I was there on the ground she was rolling over. I paced while I waited for her to come inside, agitated at how long it was taking. When she made it in, she had a sleeping Emmy in her arms.
She saw me standing there, and said, “Hi.”
Hi. She’d had me in her bed nearly every night for weeks and gave another man her number and I get a “hi”.
Fuck. I was going to lose it.
When I didn’t say anything, she went on, “I need to put her down.”
“Do it. We need to talk out back.”
She looked surprised, and slightly worried, but went about doing it anyway. I left without waiting for her. I needed to get out back before I started screaming or destroyed something. Emmy didn’t have any windows facing the backyard, so hopefully I could control myself enough for her to sleep through it all.
Ash came out looking hesitant. Half of me yearned to reassure her, but the rest was still fucking pissed.
“Sketch—”
The worried way she said my name made me snap.
“Is this the new Ash? You just bounce around collecting guys to fuck?”
She stepped back like I’d hit her. “What are you talking about?”
“Or is it more? Do you want to be Mrs. fucking Derrick Merryck?” At her shocked face, I explained, “I rode over to the park. I was going to relieve Jager of guard duty.”
“How do you even know him?” she asked.
“Who do you think put all that ink in his skin?”
She said the wrong thing then. “Wow. Those tattoos are beautiful.”
“Are you seriously fucking talking to me about how good tattoos look on some other guy’s arms?”
She decided to change topics. “Sketch, I just met him today. Emmy’s been playing with his daughter when we’re at the park. He came over to introduce himself.”
“And try to get you to fuck him.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Really? So he didn’t ask you out and you didn’t give him your number?”
She bit her lip.
“I know exactly what it’s like, Ash,” I snapped.
“Okay. Yes. He asked me out, but I didn’t say yes. I only gave him my number so we could set up a play-date for the girls. It’s important for Emmy to have friends her own age.”
Fuck. What she was saying made sense, but I was still seeing red.
“We wouldn’t have to be in this fucking situation if you would just admit you’re mine. Fuck, Ash. I’m in your bed every night. I’m tired of being your fuck buddy. You and Emmy are mine. Just say it.”
She started backing away, her head shaking back and forth. I hadn’t seen that look on her face, scared and ready to bolt, since the night I lost her.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Fuck can’t.
“Why the fuck not?” She didn’t answer, so I kept going. “What’s stopping you? Your life in Portland? You worked at a fuckin’ diner until you looked half-dead with exhaustion when Roadrunner found you.”
Saying Roadrunner’s name made a memory I’d forgotten come back. Roadrunner and Stone in the kitchen the first night Ash was back.
“—didn’t even have a bed, for fuck’s sake. Just slept on the fucking couch for Christ knows how long.”
I looked at her, at a loss for words for a second. A couch?
“Did you sleep on a couch?”
She paled, and that was all the answer I needed.
“That’s why you can’t? Because you’ve got such a great life to leave behind? Fucking hell, Ash. You don’t deserve to be doing any of that shit. Working yourself to death and not even getting to be around Emmy as much as you both deserve because you have to provide for her. I could take care of both of you. You could go back to school. You could stay home with Emmy all day. Whatever the fuck you wanted. You could still be a waitress if it meant something to you, but you wouldn’t be forced to do it. And never, not even once, would you be forced to sleep on a fucking couch instead of in a bed where you belong.
“You’ve got friends there? Fine. Portland’s not that far. We can drive in and see them whenever you want. They can come here to visit. I don’t fucking care. What I care about is that we stop with this stupid game and you admit we aren’t just fucking.
“And before you say one word about it, I’ll tell you what I’ve told you before: I want Emmy, too. I want her to know me as her dad. I want both of you, and I’ll give you both everything you need. You just have to let me.”
I could hardly breathe and Ash was so still, I wasn’t sure she was. My whole body vibrated. I didn’t know whether it was frustration, or fear she would reject me again, but it had complete hold of me. Ash just stared at me with her blue eyes wide. Every passing second felt like a lifetime, each one ticking me closer to the death blow I was becoming more sure was about to be delivered.
“Sketch…”
Fuck.
No.
It was consoling.
“I…I don’t…”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She was saying no.
I wanted to demand she say it. I wanted to make her stand there in front of me and tell me to my fucking face she didn’t want me. I wanted to force her to do it so she might feel even a fraction of what I was feeling.
But I was too much of a fucking pussy to hear her say it.
I couldn’t live with the memory of those words coming out of her mouth. I’d barely survived her leaving without saying a thing.
So, this time, I was going to be the one who walked away.
I almost made it. I got past Ash, inside, and nearly to the front door to grab the key to my bike and leave, when I was stopped.
“Sketch?”
It wasn’t the voice I wanted to hear, but god, it was close.
Emmy was standing in the hall, the stuffed otter I’d gotten her that day at the zoo hugged close to her chest.
I couldn’t walk away from her. I didn’t have it in me.
I went her way and knelt down. She immediately came to me, letting me wrap her up in my arms and lift her off the floor.
“Hey, princess.”
“Where you goin’?”
Damn. Wasn’t that the fuckin’ question? Where the hell would I go? Ash was at least staying in the short term. Then, what? I just let her leave and take Emmy with her? Even if Ash didn’t want me, I was sure, down to my bones, Emmy was mine. I wouldn’t let her be taken away from me. I might not be fighting for Ash’s heart anymore, but I still had a battle on my hands—one I couldn’t win if I took off.
“Nowhere,” I told her. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a nap?”
“I heard noises. They woke me up.”
Just go ahead and put my name on the Asshole of the Year award.
“I’m sorry, that was my fault. Why don’t we get you back to bed? I promise, it’ll be quiet now.”
She nodded and snuggled
against my chest as I carried her back to her room. Poor thing was wiped.
I was tucking her in, pulling the pink and white princess blanket up over her, when she spoke again.
“Are you going to be my daddy?” I was so fucking floored by the question, I didn’t answer. Emmy, my persistent girl, kept going. “I always wanted a daddy. You’d be a real good one. You and Mommy could get married and you could be my daddy.”
Fuck. This girl. She was too fucking much.
“I don’t know, princess,” I admitted. Her expression fell, and I couldn’t stand it. “I’ll tell you a secret, though, if you promise to keep it.”
Her little face broke into a smile again and she nodded. “I pwomise.”
Fuck, so cute.
“I want to be your daddy. Getting to be someone’s daddy isn’t easy, and I don’t know if I can, but I promise you, I’m going to try my hardest to make it happen. Okay?”
Emmy got to her feet, stood on the bed, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Okay, Daddy.”
Fuck.
I hugged her tight. I meant what I’d said to her. I was going to do every fucking thing in my power to make it legal, to make absolutely damn sure that would not be the only time I heard her call me daddy.
He left.
I’d stood there like an idiot and not said anything while he walked away.
Go after him, some part of me was screaming, fix this.
What was I supposed to do?
“Are you going to let him go?”
I turned and saw Jager standing on the deck, the powerful build of his body as intimidating as ever. At first, I thought it was anger in his gaze. I’d hurt his brother. I wondered if that would be the reaction I’d get from all the brothers. They hadn’t treated me differently because I’d left Sketch the first time, but maybe this would be too much.
“Don’t make that mistake,” Jager spoke again.
I realized then he wasn’t angry, he was disappointed in me.
“You don’t understand. There are things none of you know,” I tried.
