Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance)

by Lisa Childs

  “I’m sorry, honey,” his mother said, her voice all soft and shaky.

  Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back. He was not going to be a baby. “It’s okay…”

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “Your dad doesn’t know about you. I never told him.”

  JESSIE WISHED the words back the minute she uttered them. But she couldn’t let Tommy believe that he’d been rejected. Keith had rejected her, not their son. Why had it never occurred to her that Tommy might believe that his father knew about him but wanted nothing to do with him?

  And maybe it was true; maybe Keith wouldn’t want anything to do with him even if he was aware that he had a son.

  “Tommy, I’m so sorry,” she said, the words a whisper from the emotion choking her.

  His eyes welling with tears, he shook his head. “You’re not sorry!”

  “Yes, I am,” she insisted. Guilt and regret overwhelmed her. “I should have told him about you. He would love you.” Even if he wasn’t eager to be a father, Keith wouldn’t reject Tommy; he wouldn’t be able to resist their son. No one could. “Everybody who knows you loves you.”

  “You don’t!” he shouted, his face flushing dark with anger. “You don’t love me!”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. And that was why she’d been so scared of losing him. “I love you more than anyone else in this world.”

  “If you loved me, you’d tell me the truth instead of treating me like a dumb baby,” he argued. “I’m not a baby!”

  Not anymore. Her little boy had grown up when she wasn’t looking. His teachers all praised his intelligence and his maturity. Maybe because it was just the two of them, he’d grown up faster than he should have and acted far older than his eight years. He was mature enough to know the truth of what she’d done.

  “Tommy, I know that you’re not a baby,” she agreed, “so I can tell you now. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to you. Not anymore. Not ever again! I hate you!”

  Jessie wasn’t too crazy about herself at the moment, but she couldn’t condone his speaking to her that way. “Tommy…” She reached for him, trying to close her hands over his shaking shoulders.

  But he jerked away from her, as if he couldn’t bear for her to touch him. “I hate you,” he said again, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

  And there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. At this moment, he meant what he said. Then he turned and ran in the direction his friend had gone, around the house and toward the gate at the front.

  She restrained herself from chasing after him. After what she’d just revealed, she understood that he needed some time alone to calm down. And she needed a moment to dash away her tears and compose herself.

  He didn’t mean it. Her loving, sweet son couldn’t really hate her, not like she hated herself right now. Her legs shaking, she walked back into the house where their dinner cooled on the kitchen table. She’d made his favorite: lasagna with extra cheese and a salad he claimed he didn’t like but then always ate seconds. She picked up the cordless phone and dialed the Johnsons’ number, then cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder as she put the food away in plastic containers. Tommy would be hungry when he came home but maybe too tired from his emotional outburst to eat.

  The Johnsons’ phone kept ringing before going to voice mail. They had a no answering phones during dinner rule; Tommy had told her about all their family rules. She needed to take notes herself since she hadn’t done much right with her parenting. After the beep, she said, “This is Jessie. Please call me back and let me know that Tommy’s at your house. He’s really mad at me now, so if you wouldn’t mind keeping him for the night, I’d appreciate it. I’ll be over in a bit with his pajamas, toothbrush and clothes for school tomorrow. Then I’ll explain what’s going on.”

  Since tomorrow was Friday, they’d probably be happy to have Tommy. After putting away the food, she headed upstairs to pack his overnight bag. In the morning, after he’d calmed down, she would talk to him. She’d tell him everything and hope that he wouldn’t really hate her.

  CHANCE LEANED against the jamb of Matthew’s new bedroom. He crossed his arms over his chest and felt his heart thump hard and fast. Would the room be okay with Matthew? Would he like it enough to want to stay the entire week?

  He had no idea anymore what his boy liked. Kids grew up so fast, changed so much in just a little while. And it had been over a year since he’d seen Matthew. Thanks to Tommy’s help, though, Chance had learned what Matthew probably wouldn’t like, what he’d be too old for. So they’d decided on skateboards and snow-boards and surfboards for his room. They’d found wall clings and complemented the bright colors of the boards with dark-colored paint.

  Jessie had worked hard to make the room vibrant and cool. Closing his eyes, he remembered the smear of navy blue on her nose and along her cheek. And the shimmery silver paint sprinkled through her red hair. Disheveled and slightly flushed from her exertion, she’d been even more beautiful to him.

  She hadn’t had to help him. The way he’d treated her since Tommy had stepped into his office, she shouldn’t have helped him. But her heart was too soft, her spirit too generous to refuse him assistance. He uttered a ragged sigh and ran his palm over his face. Without her and Tommy, he wouldn’t have had a clue about how to get ready for his son’s visit. Maybe Robyn was right about him. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a father.

  But then he remembered Tommy’s smiling face as the little boy had swung the hammer against the nail Chance had held for him. He grimaced and glanced down at his black thumbnail. That hadn’t been the nail Tommy was supposed to hammer into the wood.

  “Mom can kiss it better,” Tommy had offered.

  Chance bet she could. And he’d come so close to kissing her over the past week and a half. But he’d held himself back every time he’d been tempted to lean in, to close the distance between her lips and his. He’d gotten so close a few times that he’d tasted the sweetness of her breath and had felt its warmth whisper across his skin. But he wanted to be a good father this time. He couldn’t put anything—or anyone—before his son again.

  His ringing cell phone startled him from his thoughts. Hoping it was Matthew, he pulled his cell from his pocket and glanced at the LCD screen. He didn’t recognize the number but, as he’d learned, his job wasn’t nine to five. Citizens of Forest Glen felt free to call him at any time, day or night. Glancing at the darkened windows, he noted that night had fallen. He answered the phone, “Sheriff Drayton.”

  “Chance, I can’t find him.” Sobs cracked the familiar voice. “I—I can’t find him anywhere.”

  “Jessie?” It wasn’t her number on the ID. Over the past several days that she and Tommy had been helping him, she’d called him enough times that he’d memorized her number. Hell, if she’d only called once he would have memorized it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tommy’s gone.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “At my cousin’s. I checked the Johnsons’. I thought he went over there after he ran away from me.”

  “He ran away from you?” Chance swallowed a groan, remembering when Tommy had run off at the store—angry over his dad. “I thought he’d dropped that idea…”

  “Only because he believed his father wants nothing to do with him,” Jessie said, “and I couldn’t let him think that he’d been rejected. But once I admitted I’d never told his dad about him, he got so mad that he took off.”

  Chance sucked in a breath even though he wasn’t really surprised. He’d suspected that was why she’d listed Tommy’s father as unknown, because she hadn’t told the guy she was pregnant.

  “I thought he went down to the Johnsons’,” she continued, “but he wasn’t there. And he’s not at Belinda’s. I checked some of his other friends’ houses.” Her voice cracked again, choked with sobs and fear. “I don’t know where else to look.”

  Ch
ance narrowed his eyes as he stared out that darkened window into the backyard. The glimmers of light he’d thought were fireflies might be something else entirely. “I think I know where he is.” He hurried down the curved stairwell and out the back door of the kitchen. The light he’d glimpsed from inside spilled from the tree house onto the yard beneath the oak. The way it flickered, it had to be coming from the old lantern.

  How had the little boy gotten it lit? But then, this was Tommy; there probably wasn’t much the kid couldn’t figure out, except why his mother had done what she had. He wasn’t the only one who struggled to understand. That, more than anything else, had held Chance back from kissing her. How could he get involved with a woman who’d done exactly as his ex had? Kept a child from his father…

  “Is he with you?” Jessie asked, her voice quavering through the phone.

  “He’s here…in the tree house,” he whispered.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “Give us a little bit of time. Let me talk to him first.” Maybe he was prying again, poking his nose in where it didn’t belong. Guess that meant he had truly become a citizen of Forest Glen. But over the past several days, he’d formed a relationship with the boy—a closer one than he had with his own son right now.

  Jessie released a shaky breath that rattled over the phone. “Okay.”

  And he knew what that concession meant. She’d trusted him with what mattered most to her: her son. He couldn’t let her down now. He clicked off his cell and shoved it back in his pocket, then headed closer to the tree house. He reached for the rope ladder hanging from the trap door, and before he’d even poked his head through the hole, he heard the sniffles and shaky breaths. When Chance cleared the floor, Tommy whirled away from him and lifted his fists to his face, dashing away tears.

  “Go away,” the boy mumbled around the sobs shaking his shoulders. “I just wanna be alone.”

  Chance shifted around in the small room so that he sat on the edge of the opening, dangling his legs through the hole. And maybe Tommy thought Chance had taken him at his word because he lifted his head. Then he vaulted himself into Chance’s arms. Chance caught him close, so he wouldn’t slip through the trap door. And because the kid obviously needed a hug.

  “Don’t go!” Tommy beseeched him, his voice soft and quivery, laying bare his vulnerability and loneliness. He had to feel as if the one person he’d always counted on—the only constant in his young life—had betrayed him.

  Chance’s heart ached with the child’s pain. He patted the boy’s back. “I’m not going anywhere. We can just sit here or we can talk. Whatever you want.”

  “I want to stay here—with you,” Tommy said. “I don’t want to go home.”

  “Your mother loves you.” Chance had no doubt about that. He had watched them interact; Jessie’s beautiful face glowed with love every time she looked at her son. And she constantly touched the boy, squeezing his shoulder, kissing his forehead and hugging him. “You are her whole world.”

  Tommy sniffled louder, and his tears dampened the front of Chance’s shirt. “I told her I hated her.” And maybe he was more upset about that than what he’d learned.

  “She knows you didn’t mean it,” Chance assured the distraught boy.

  Tommy pulled back and stared up at him, his eyes wide and wet. “I was so mad I felt like I meant it. How could she…how could she…?” His voice cracked on another sob, this one of frustration.

  “I’m sure your mom has her reasons for not telling your dad about you,” he said. “You just have to trust her.”

  Mentally he called himself a hypocrite. He could tell her son to trust her, but he couldn’t quite trust her himself. Too much of what she’d done, of the way she treated Tommy, reminded him of Robyn. It was good that Chance had never kissed Jessie Phillips or he might have formed a deeper attachment to her than he already had. And then he’d probably wind up feeling as betrayed and heartbroken as her son.

  Chapter Eight

  The light from the hall shone across his face, his eyes closed as he lay sleeping in the top bunk in Chance’s son’s room. Jessie crept closer and extended her hand, running her fingertips across her son’s cheek. The skin was damp yet from all the tears he’d shed—because of her.

  Strong hands closed over her shoulders, and a muscular chest pressed against her back, offering support in his strength and comfort in his warmth. “Let him sleep,” a deep voice persuaded her. “He’s exhausted. He wore himself out.”

  Tears stung her eyes and she could only nod.

  “He’s fine here,” Chance assured her. He turned her, his arm around her shoulders, and guided her back toward the open door of the bedroom and out into the wide hallway.

  “This is the safest house in Forest Glen,” she replied, “the sheriff’s house.” Tommy probably felt more protected here, with Chance, than he’d ever felt with her. After realizing she was a liar, would he ever trust her again? Had she completely destroyed their relationship?

  Chance waggled his bruised thumb on her shoulder. “Not quite the safest. At least not for the sheriff.”

  She smiled, remembering how he’d fought to hide his grimace of pain from her son and insisted he was fine despite the twitching muscle along his tightly clenched jaw. “Tommy feels really bad about hitting you with the hammer.”

  “I know.” Chance guided her farther down the hall, away from that open door, probably so they would not wake up the sleeping boy. The fact that they moved closer to the master bedroom was just a coincidence, she was certain. “He also feels really bad about what he said to you.”

  Her breath hitched. “That he hates me.”

  “He didn’t mean it.”

  “The look on his face…” She shivered. “He’s gotten mad at me before, but he’s never looked at me like that. My little boy was gone.”

  “He’s right there,” Chance said, gesturing back toward his son’s bedroom. “Drooling in his sleep.”

  She tried to smile but tears pooled in her eyes. She blinked them back and struggled to steady her breath. “He should hate me,” Jessie said. “I hate myself. I’ve been so selfish.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” he protested.

  She shook her head as a smile freely curved her lips. “Now who’s lying? You’ve been thinking all along—from the minute Tommy asked you to find his dad—that I was being selfish.”

  “I had no right to judge you without knowing what your situation is,” he said. “This custody battle with Robyn had me unfairly jumping to conclusions about you.”

  “You think I’m like her,” she said. She’d realized it the minute she’d learned about his son and that his ex-wife had sued him for full custody while he was in Afghanistan.

  He chuckled. “You’re nothing like Robyn.”

  From the way he’d said it, she had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “So you never compared us?” she persisted.

  He shook his head. “I can’t claim that. I have compared what you’ve done to what she’s doing to me.”

  “It’s not the same,” she insisted. “You were always there for Matthew.”

  “Except when I was deployed,” he said with a sigh.

  “Even when you were away, you were part of his life. You two always knew about each other. I never told Tommy’s father about him.”

  “So they never had a relationship.”

  “Because I was too selfish to allow it.” She bit her lip and shook her head, disgusted with herself. “I wanted to keep my little boy all to myself.”

  “You’re scared,” Chance said. “I’ve seen it in your eyes every time Tommy or I talked about finding his dad. Was that it, what held you back from telling this man that you were pregnant? You were afraid of him?”

  “I was afraid of what he’d do,” she admitted.

  Chance reached for her again, his arms winding around her and offering comfort once more. And protection. “Was he abusive to you?”

>   “No, never,” she replied with vehemence. Keith had always been a sweet boy, but she had no idea what kind of man he had become. “I’m afraid to find him now because I’m worried that he’ll take my little boy away from me.”

  “And finding out I’m suing Robyn for full custody probably didn’t calm your fears any.”

  She shook her head. “No, it didn’t. But I think I was just looking for an excuse to keep Tommy away from his dad.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Keith Howard—my high school sweetheart,” she said. “He was a year ahead of me. He left for college before I confirmed I was pregnant, and I lied to him about the test results. I didn’t want him coming home because he felt he had to. I wanted him to come home because he wanted to. You know.”

  Chance nodded. “I think I do,” he said, as if he’d realized something about himself, as well. “So Keith didn’t come home on his own?”

  She shook her head, her eyes stinging as she remembered her old heartache. “Instead he sent me a Dear Jane letter dumping me.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And my pride was too hurt for me to admit that I’d lied and that I was actually pregnant. And every time I thought about finding him and telling him the truth, I’d take out that letter and read it again.” She sighed. “I’ve taken it out quite a few times over the years.” Keith hadn’t loved her, so trapping him in a relationship he hadn’t wanted wouldn’t have been fair to him. But now, seeing Chance’s misery over the separation from his son, she realized it hadn’t been fair keeping Keith and Tommy apart.

  Just because Keith had left her didn’t mean he would do the same with his son. Would he reject him now? Her heart ached for Tommy’s pain if he did.

  “Thank you,” Chance said, his deep blue gaze steady on her face.

  Her skin heated under his scrutiny while she furrowed her brow in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”

  “For sharing your story with me.”

  She drew in a bracing breath. “I have a reason for doing that,” she said, having made her decision when she’d been frantically searching for her son. “I want you to help me find him.”