by Ashley Logan
"Would it hurt?"
I shake my head. "I wouldn't feel it, but I'd still damage it. It's a tricky kind of problem. Your mom won't like it if I wreck the fine job the folk at the hospital did."
Nodding as he thinks about that, Ry glances at his mom. "I'll get your chair for you."
"Thanks man. I owe ya one."
We continue towards the end, and I'm thinking Ry's seeming much more confident when he stops again.
"You like Mom?"
My eyes zoom in on Stacey's. She's been following our progress the whole way, listening to every word. Pressing her lips together, she adjusts her glasses.
"Of course I like her. She's a real swell lady. Is that okay with you?"
Ry looks at Stace, and then over his shoulder at me.
"I think so. We like you too."
"Well thank you both," I reply, feeling my cheeks warming. "Time to turn around?"
I talk Ry through positioning himself, and help him into the right place. From there he climbs down perfectly well on his own. After Stace hugs the crap out of him, and gushes about how brave he is and how proud she is that he didn't give up, she finally sets him down again. He heads straight for my chair and parks it below where Stace shows him to, putting the brakes on.
Getting myself into a good position, I swing down and use the ladder to lower myself back into my chair. Taking care of my bad leg, I strap both in and ask where we're going next.
I can only grin at the response. Ice-cream.
Ry runs ahead and Stace runs her fingers through my hair before settling her hand on my shoulder as we follow. Her thumb strokes my neck almost absentmindedly as she teases me about being an ape before thanking me for helping Ryan.
I brush it off, instead choosing to tease her back about her fear of heights and how she would have hated me if I could still walk, because I totally would've picked her up and held to her over my head just to freak her out.
I don't tell her how necessary I felt when Ry was depending on me; and I don't tell her that I loved every second of it. I don't tell her that I'd do anything for either of them.
I get the feeling she would smile politely and disregard all of it. If I say nothing, my actions will be all she has and so long as I don't abandon her like her father did, treat her cruelly like her mother does, or use her like her ex, she'll get the message about how much she's starting to mean to me.
Hopefully.
CHAPTER TWELVE
STACE
I've been in the door all of two seconds when Mom descends. I pull on my invisible cloak of defense and wait for whatever damning words will be thrown at me, but to my surprise they don't come.
"How is your car running?"
"Very well thank-you," I reply as I hang my jacket in the hall closet.
"Mr. Jenkins was inquiring after it."
It. Not you; it.
"It's as good as new. No problems."
"Did you pay the man?"
"Of course. The invoice came in the mail and I paid it." As if you didn't already know that. I can guarantee she's already checked my mail. Good thing Brad's a man of his word and a nice red PAID stamp came through two days ago.
"How was Ry's first painting lesson?" I ask, getting to her point before she gets there in her own insulting way.
"From what I can tell, it went very well."
"Really?"
I don't mean to sound surprised. I'm not surprised that it went well so much as Mom's saying so.
"If you didn't think it would go well, why did you let it happen?" Mom asks, narrowing her eyes.
I shake my head. "I did think it would be fine. Ry likes painting and Brad and vice-versa. I guess I'm just pleased to hear there were no problems. They didn't make the house a mess?"
"I sent them straight to the garage, so they didn't get a chance."
"Oh. Good idea. And the time was no trouble? I'd have preferred to be home, but Brad's availability only clashes with my roster. It didn't disturb your routine?"
"On the contrary. When they finished, I sent Ryan straight to the bath while I readied his dinner. It worked well enough. Care to see what they were working on?"
Doing my best not to be lured into any expectations by my Mother's unusual mood, I gesture for her to lead the way. "I'd love to. Brad is very talented, so I can't even imagine what he's got Ry doing."
"There's no denying his talents," Mom says strangely, avoiding my eyes.
"Or his charm. He and Ryan get on like a house on fire. Mr. Jenkins relates to him very naturally."
"I'd noticed. That's why I was keen to set it up," I say, wondering all the while what the hell Brad has done to make such a good impression. My mother is not usually so quick to acknowledge somebody's strengths.
"I'm sure there's good reason for it," she continues. "They are very alike in so many respects. Mr. Jenkins appears to be clueless as to his biological role in the scenario however. Were you ever going to tell him he's the boy's father? Or are you certain he'd only dismiss poor Ryan if you were to sour the relationship with the truth? I'm sure he would consider a relationship with Ryan without your involvement. The man seems smitten. Ryan shouldn't have to miss out just because the man doesn't want you. Or are you hoping he'll take you back despite your reputation?"
For a moment, I can only stare at her with my mouth open. I don't even know where to start with a response. "Um... I'm not sure that Brad has any biological connection to Ryan," I say carefully, knowing full well the only way Brad could be Ry's father, is in my dreams. "I certainly wasn't planning on offering either of us to him in anyway, regardless of how smitten Brad might be or how sullied you believe my reputation to be. Brad's role is to paint and give a masculine perspective on the world. Ryan does not need a father."
"Why? Because you did so well without one?" she counters, clearly disapproving.
"You know what? I'm suddenly very tired. I think I'll wait until the morning to see their work. Ryan will be disappointed if he can't show off his work personally. Good night mother."
Kissing her cheek on the way past, I rush up the stairs, keen for escape and the privacy I need to use my phone.
Safely behind a closed door, I pull out my phone.
Me: What on earth did you do to my mom? She's singing your praises!
Brad: Isn't that a good thing? How was work?
Me: It was fine. But seriously. What did you do?
Brad: Nothing unusual. Oh, I did say that I'd pray for your eternal soul. Do you think that was it?
Me: OMG! Are you serious?
Brad: OMG! No! What the hell? It was a joke. You were meant to laugh. I just hung out and painted with Ryan. Wasn't that the plan?
Me: Yeah, but after watching you together, she's convinced you're his father.
Brad: Well we both know that's not the case. I honestly have no idea where she got that idea from. Weird. [Brad shrugs]
It makes me smile that he's written his physical response, but the more I think about what I've just told him, the more unbelievable his reaction seems.
Me: It doesn't bother you?
Watching the screen of my phone as I always do when I'm texting with him, I frown when the screen fades to black. It's unlike him to leave me hanging. Swiping the phone, I read back through my words and wonder if I've scared him off. Panicking, I start drafting an apologetic text message, deleting it each time because it reads like I'm begging him not to give up on me.
Sighing, I stare at my screen as it fades to black again. If life has taught me anything, it's that no amount of begging will keep a man that doesn't want to stay. If he wants to back off, he will. I won't beg.
The phone lights up in my hands as his message comes through.
Brad: Does it bother you?
I re-read his message three times, slowly. A horrid little twisting sensation starts churning inside me and I'm quick to push it away. I don't want it to bother me to think of Brad as Ry's father. It shouldn't. He's a great guy. A week ago, I was wishing he w
as.
Shaking my head, I remember why I was upset to begin with.
Me: It bothers me that my mother jumps to conclusions. All of her conclusions involving me tend to be unpleasant.
Brad: Are you saying sex with me is unpleasant? I have to admit that now I'm beginning to feel a little bothered.
Me: What? Shut up. This isn't even about you.
Brad: It's not? Because it sounds like you're saying your mom thinks I'm responsible for knocking you up and you're saying that's an unpleasant thought. I feel like I'm at least somewhat involved. Even if only by providing some sort of invented opportunity of sperm donation.
Me: [Face palm] You didn't actually knock me up, so how could I be talking about that being unpleasant? Dickwad.
Brad: Ooh. Names now? Would you be giving me this much lip if I had been the one that got you pregnant?
Swallowing hard, I refrain from typing that I wish he was Ry's dad. I'm not even sure that's true. We're doing okay on our own; sort of on our own.
Me: If Ry were yours, I'm sure you'd be getting more than lip. Forget I said anything. I'm tired, and brain-dead, and my mother is making me crazy. I feel all twist-y. I don't even remember what point I was trying to make. Thank you for painting with Ry today. I can't wait to hear what he has to say about it in the morning when Mom goes to work. I think I really need to go to bed. I'll talk to you later?
Brad: You'd better. I'm all confused. What do you mean by more than lip?
Me: Maybe a little tongue? [Stacey smiles playfully] Good night.
Brad: Sleep well sweet tease.
Flopping onto the bed, I sigh with my entire being.
What the hell am I doing?
It's time to review my choices. Again. That's what I always do when I'm uncomfortable or can't make sense of things.
I had a plan, but now I don't remember what it was. Move home to raise Ry to school age while completing my studies and paying off student debt, then move out and start really living. Was that it? I'm almost there. What's the next step? Brad?
There was no Brad in the plan, but... he's already in my life.
I didn't mean to fall back into that crush, but there's just something about him that pulls me in. Obviously. A few moments with him and I let my guard down; despite his risk to my delicate situation.
He's still a risk. Right? Sodermann would have a field day if he knew the guy who assaulted him was in my life. Paternity suspicions aside, what's to stop him from filing some shitty claim against me for exposing my kid to 'dangerous company'? Shuddering at the thought of him trying to weasel his way into my bed through some nefarious legal action to remove my son from me, I think about the other person who's threatened me.
Mom seems to have accepted Brad - not that she knows his history, or believes he'd be involved with a 'woman of loose morals' such as myself. Maybe that's why she's warmed to him.
That, and she thinks he's Ry's dad.
Brad's certainly a better father figure than that douche Sodermann, but in my experience, men only stick around while the going's good.
I don't want Ry getting too attached if Brad's going to leave me at some stage. It's not fair on a kid. I remember believing my Dad's absence was all my fault. It wasn't until I was older that I realized it was an adult issue and that a seven year old couldn't be to blame.
Maybe I've let Ry become too attached already? And what about me? Am I too attached?
Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. It can't be possible. We've barely spent any time together. Most of it with Ry, or stealing heart-racing moments of sexual release. Those are examples of part-time lovers, not true commitment.
The ache in my chest insists I'm lying to myself. If Brad wheeled his dimpled chin and sexy smile out of my life, I'd be devastated. I love his easy way with Ry, and how he makes me laugh.
The last several years have been devoid of any real fun. I mean, I can have fun with Ry, but I'm a mom in that scenario. I can have fun with my friends at work, but there I'm a nurse. Whenever I've had a brief moment to just be Stacey, there was no fun at all. Until Brad.
That realization makes me sit up.
Until Brad, I'd forgotten how to have fun. Hadn't even set aside time to bother with it. My life is burdened by responsibility now; my wild-child ways are long gone.
Am I just trying to recover those glorious days? Back then my future was filled with possibilities. Now it has limitations and planning requirements. With a kid, there's no flying by the seat of my pants. Am I just leaping at a chance to feel normal without considering consequences?
I definitely haven't thought Brad through.
He's managed to slip through all of my defenses and pull me back into myself. Is that why I feel like he's important? Because I miss being myself? Why did I need him to do that? I can't be reliant on someone else to know who I am. That's stupid. And crazy.
I shouldn't be reliant on anyone but myself. Ry needs stability and I'm tasked with providing it. I'm his mom; his protector.
Peeling myself off the bed I get changed into my pajamas, trying to figure out what's brought on this heavy train of thought. Was it Mom, or Brad, or Ry? I feel like I'm going in circles.
Tip-toeing over to my bag, I pull out my phone, wanting to read through that last conversation to see if I can work it out.
When I turn it on, there is a fresh message from Brad waiting for me.
Brad: Stace, I've tried writing this damn message a dozen times and it still doesn't say exactly what I want it to, but you're probably fast asleep by now and I probably should be. I just wanted to say that I know things are hard for you right now. With my unpleasant past and our secret meetings, I know that I'm probably only making it harder. That's not my intention at all. I want things to be easier for you. I'd like to see you more, but I don't want to add unnecessary pressure. It's selfish and unhelpful. I don't mind if you need some space, but I want you to know that I'm here if you need me. For anything. I can't get you off my mind. Within a few short months, you've completely changed my world. I'm a better person because of you. Not because you expect it of me, but because I demand it of myself for you. I want to be the man you deserve, and you deserve the best. I hope you're having beautiful dreams and that tomorrow they might come true. X
My hand trembling, I put the phone back in my bag and climb into bed. Lying in the dark, I stare blindly up at the ceiling.
The man's fucking perfect.
Too good to be true.
Marty's words travel through my head and I toss and turn for what feels like an eternity before eventually falling asleep.
AFTER A FEW WEEKS OF sneaking around, I needed a break. Brad said he understood, of course. I think he knows I'm kind of warring with myself over him. I don't know that I'd be as understanding if our roles were reversed.
Keeping in touch only via text message, I haven't seen Brad in over a week and it's been hard, but something I think I needed to do. I need to know if what I'm feeling is real, or if I'm just flirting with a fantasy; just an affair to pacify the dark side that my mother swears is my undoing.
Maybe she's right.
Walking into the hospital cafeteria for my dinner-break, I see him waiting. As soon as he smiles at me, I realize how much I've missed him. Still having to wear shorts because of his broken leg, he looks too casual and summery for a dinner date. Looking around quickly, I move towards him and slip into the chair opposite. Glancing at the flickering fake candles and the romantic set up, I raise my eyebrows.
"If you think I'm going to put out in the supply room later, you can think again. I've learned my lesson."
Pouring sparkling grape juice into a champagne flute, Brad smiles. "Actually, I thought we could just enjoy a pleasant meal together. I've missed seeing you, and mostly it seems in the few times that I've been lucky enough to get you alone, our conversations go out the window while we bang like barn door."
"You don't like that?" I ask, folding my arms and waiting him out.
"I come
as often as you do, so obviously I do. Too much. I can't seem to resist the slightest temptation." Pouring some grape juice into his own glass, he sighs. "It's just that while I enjoy your body immensely, I also rather adore your personality. I want to spend time with you, but you've been keeping me at a distance lately. Probably because it's hard to see me without losing your mind to the dreaded, rabid sex bunnies. At least that's how it can be for me. I start with my head on straight, but end up losing the battle against the bunnies and turning rabid. That's when my dick takes over. You can imagine the conundrum."
"The conundrum?" I repeat, thoroughly amused.
"Yes. Quite," he says, delectably cute in his flustered, gentlemanly attempt to romance me. "In order to prevent sex bunny invasions, I've opted for an encounter where I will not be able to give in to temptation, and therefore will be able to complete a quality conversation with you that isn't in text message form. We're in the public domain with spectators, a professional code of conduct, and a time limit, so I can enjoy your company without succumbing to rabies. This is a definite non-coital zone."
Taking a slow sip of grape juice, I lick my lips and smile as I set it down. "You know, you didn't have to try so hard." I gesture at his dinner display. "I don't really believe in romance."
"That is both sad and disappointing," he says, watching me intently as he sips his juice.
"I still appreciate that you took time out of your day to come and brighten mine though," I add, looking down at the covered plate in front of me. My neglected stomach is about to eat its own lining. "What's for dinner?"
Setting his glass back on the table, Brad gestures for me to reveal my plate.
"Hospital lasagna is tonight's special, I'm afraid," he says, making a face as he removes his own cover. "Good thing you're not fussy."
"Who says I'm not fussy?" I ask, taking up a fork and hoeing in.
"Says the girl with no discernible taste-buds."
Pausing as I chew, I look down at the sloppy mess of meat and cheese pasta on the plate. Granted it doesn't look as good as it tastes, but I'm hungry and don't care. "What's wrong with it?"
