by Liz Crowe
“Eww, gross.” Jace ran to the kitchen to grab paper towels. “Daddy,” he fake-whispered as the two of them mopped up the mess. “She’s smoking in the kitchen.”
“I know. Sorry. She’s nasty. Did you finish eating?”
Jace nodded.
“All right then, hook-shot time.”
“What about her?” Jace wrinkled up his nose.
“She’ll figure out we’re gone soon enough.”
They headed home as the sun was setting, having spent two hours at the gym, another two at the ice rink slamming pucks into a vacant net, and a couple more playing putt-putt golf. Dominic really thought he ought to get father-of-the-year awards for today’s activity. But as they headed for home, he took the hand Jace had gripping the front of his T-shirt and held onto it, loving the warmth and praying that his heart rate would slow. When they rounded the final curve before the apartment complex, he heard Jace marvel at the amazing mountain views, which at that hour were a glorious mix of orange, purple and pink.
“Daddy, the sky looks like a bruise.”
“Huh, how about that.” Dom shouldered his backpack, already antsy about having to stay put that night. “Listen, dude, I think I may go out later. Which sitter d’ya want me to call?”
“No sitter. Stay home.”
Dom heard the petulant toddler-tone Jace could flip on and off like a water faucet. When he attempted to steer the kid into the apartment, Jace ducked him, already headed into pout mode. Dom unlocked the door, letting the dog do its oh-my-God-I-thought-you-had-left-me-forever freak out all over the place, complete with a hair explosion they’d have to clean at some point. Jace stomped past him into the living room and flopped onto the couch in a huff.
Sensing dissension among the troops, Skywalker whined and paced between father and son until Dom yelled at the damn thing to leave him alone.
“Take a shower,” he called out to Jace as he tossed in a hunk of frozen lasagna. Getting no reply, he pulled a beer from the fridge, trying to come up with a reason to stay home.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he finished the first beer and was reaching for another. He winced at the name on the screen, and touched ignore no less than four times. On the fifth ring he grabbed the thing and put it to his ear.
“I hope there’s a crisis at work because that’s the only reason you have to be calling me.”
“Dom, don’t be all pissy.” Chris’ voice curled up in his head, squeezing his brain and making him want to puke. “Come over. I scored some great stuff.”
“The stuff you brought last night was putrid.” He sipped, his leg shaking like mad under the table until he forced it to be still. “I’m going out. Leave me alone.” He hung up, daring her to call again. After about thirty minutes of silence he took a deep, calming breath. He had to make Chris understand that she couldn’t run his damn life. But his brain had started spinning at the concept of locating some action tonight.
“Yo, kid,” he called over the sound of some kind of destruction on the TV screen. “Food’ll be ready in a half hour. I’m gonna take a shower.” Carrying his beer, he walked into the living room and leaned over the couch to kiss Jace’s head. The boy ducked out of his way. Dom shrugged and started whistling, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” as he headed for his bathroom.
After the hot shower, he felt a million times more human. He’d about decided to chuck the going-out plans and had managed to find clean underwear when he heard a loud crash and prolonged barking. Figuring Jace had pulled a glass down from the cabinet despite being told repeatedly not to do that, he wandered out and saw his fifteen hundred dollar television lying flat-screen-down on the floor.
“What the fuck?”
Jace stood, face stormy, arms crossed over his chest. The dog was having some kind of a fit, running in circles, nudging Jace away from the toppled TV. Dom reached for the kid, picked him up by the shirt collar and glared at him. Just as he started to put him down, Jace hauled off and punched him in the nose, bringing up way too many memories of the first day they’d met.
Without thinking he swatted the kid open-handed on his butt twice, then put him down. When the boy started sobbing and crumpled into a fetal position, Skywalker went ballistic, barking and growling at Dom as if he were about to lunge and rip his face off. When Dom gave him a loud command to stay, the dog retreated with a whimper and sat by Jace, nosing at him when he wasn’t baring his teeth at Dominic.
“I hate you!” Jace screamed at the top of his lungs, making Dom’s memory flash bright on the many times he’d stated that exact thing to his own father. He looked down at his guilty appendage, guilt rising up in his windpipe and choking him even as his palm stung as if in rebuke.
“Don’t touch me,” Jace screeched when Dom knelt down and reached for him. The boy skittered away, crawling like a crab into the far corner and huddling there, with Skywalker looming over him, every inch the vicious guard dog.
Dom blew out a breath and sat down hard, blinking at his son huddled and sniveling, the busted TV still lying on the floor between them. “Jace.” His voice was hoarse. “I…I’m….”
Where was Doctor-motherfucking-Spock now, Dom thought as he picked his son up, holding his arms at his sides to avoid more punches. He shouldered his way into Jace’s room and dropped him onto the bed with a bounce.
“You have to think about what you did to the TV, Jace.” He pointed a shaking finger, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot faker. “I’m gonna get dinner on the table.”
“Fuck off,” the kid spat at him. Dom closed the door behind him. Who was he to punish the odd F-word, after all?
Exhausted, he gave the busted television a wide berth and sat, waiting for the timer to go off as he shot texts to sitters until he found one available on short notice. After being ordered to go to hell when he told Jace to come and eat, he chewed a few bites of food without tasting them, drank another beer, put on dark jeans and a decent shirt that didn’t require ironing and let the young woman in the door.
“He’s in his room. Dog’s there too. Feed him later, if you don’t mind. Lasagna’s in the oven, bread’s there. I’m out of ice cream though so here’s some money if y’all want to go get some.” He laid a twenty on the counter.
“Wow, what happened to the TV,” the girl called out on her way to Jace’s room.
“Long story. Ask my son. I’ll be…late.” He slammed the door and pulled his phone out of his pocket when it buzzed. He slumped against the door as he answered. “Hey Missus Horse Whisperer.”
“Hey yourself.” Diana spoke from hundreds of miles away, making his heart race. “I talked to Kieran today.”
“Yeah, new baby. Woo hoo. I’m not sure kids are so fabulous right now, I can tell you.”
“Dom, are you off your meds?”
He frowned and straightened up, anger lighting up the parts of his brain not fuzzed over with the urge to run in a circle and scream like a banshee. “None of your business, remember? You told me so yourself.”
“Honey, you can’t do that.”
“What about you,” he deflected. “Got that baby vet cooking in the oven yet?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Dom let the silence grow between them unsure what to say. “Third time’s the charm, I guess.”
“That’s great, Di. I know you wanted one real bad.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve made it to month seven this time, so….”
“Wow, it’s been a while.” He banged the back of his head against the door until it hurt too much to continue.
“Almost three years. Take your dang pills, Dominic. Your son needs you to. How is Jace anyway?”
“Trouble-and-a-half. But I got the kid I deserved, I’m guessing my Mama will tell you.”
“Hmm, probably.”
“So, uh, I’m gonna go.” The ants were marching in force all over his skin again, urging him forward. “Good luck, with the baby and all.”
“Call your mama, Dominic. She misses you so much.
”
“Yeah, fine. You finished bossing me?” He jingled his keys, eager to be done with the conversation, yet wanting to listen to her talk for the rest of the night.
She blew out a breath. He could picture her, well, at least her before being pregnant. He couldn’t begin to imagine that. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. It’s why you love me. Gonna go. Take care. Bye.”
He ended the call before it got worse. After driving randomly for a half hour to calm his jangling nerves, he found a parking spot and hopped off the bike. The sensation of wanting—no, needing—to run a few miles suffused his psyche. When he pushed into the bar, the familiar smells and sounds did the opposite of soothing him. He sat, tapping nervously on the wooden surface, checking out the talent. He spotted a few possibilities, and his body shifted into a different mode as he noted an extraordinarily attractive blonde and gave her his best fake shy smile. She blinked, blushed, and whispered something to her very much-less attractive companion. He grinned and ordered his first drink of the night.
His phone vibrated a couple of times once the blonde headed his way after ditching her ugly friend. They were three bourbons in when she lunged at him, bonking her nose into his. Aggravated and not wanting her to be too drunk so she could maybe blow him, he rubbed her nose, then leaned over to kiss it, waving down the barkeep for the check. Time to decamp, he thought. Preferably to her place.
“I know about a party. Wanna come with?” She stood, making his mouth water at her curvy perfection.
“No, not really.” He got up and draped an arm around her shoulder. “But I’d follow you anywhere, gorgeous.”
They ended up at some loud, obnoxious club, the kind he usually avoided like the plague. At some point, his date pressed against him in the crush of sweaty bodies and stuck out her tongue. In the flashing light he thought he saw something on it but before he could ask, she had that tongue halfway down his throat. A nasty, medicinal taste filled his mouth and he tried to spit it out, but she grinned and yanked him out onto the dance floor.
The early part of the night he later recalled as a blur of lights, lips, tongues, and fingers. Whatever the hell she’d given him made him feel about eight-feet tall, and like he could rough-fuck every pussy in the room, twice. He grinned and dirty-danced with the blonde, and with every other woman, accepting drinks, kisses, strokes to his zipper.
Time got all rubbery and slippery. He couldn’t catch hold of it. At one point he stumbled back into a smelly hallway, needing to take a piss and unsure where to go for that. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw he’d missed three calls from Jace.
He tried to call back, but it was way too loud in the club. Even if Jace had answered, Dom would never be able to hear him. He looked up and what had once been a pleasant, erotic haze of bodies and lights had morphed into a nauseating blur. His stomach heaved and he stumbled forward, gripping whatever he could find.
Air, I have to get some air.
He lurched forward, knocking into people, spilling drinks, getting cursed and shoved and smacked. Finally, he felt a puff of somewhat fresher air so he plowed toward it, blind with nausea and terror, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. Fingers clutched at him, pulling him, going up his shirt, tugging his nipple rings, slapping his ass.
With a roar of protest, he shoved everyone off him and heaved toward the open door, spilling out onto the concrete on his side, rolling to squint up at the night sky. He closed one eye, willing the universe to halt its infernal spinning. A bunch of drunk, giggling women fell out the door and reached for him, but he scrabbled away, his addled brain focused on one thing—getting home and making sure his son was all right.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I wish you’d cancel that damn thing.” Diana groaned as she sank into the soft chair, which alleviated the pressure on her kidneys for a few seconds. “Thanks.” She took the cup of tea Lee held out and eased her feet up onto the ottoman.
“I’ll only be gone four days. And your checkup last week was fine. Nothing’s gonna happen early, I don’t think.” Lee sat and propped his legs up next to hers. She put her tea to her lips but hesitated, aggravated that worry over Dom and Jace wouldn’t let go of her already overworked brain. He’d sounded so manic, in a way she remembered well.
He used to complain that the drugs he had to take smoothed out all his edges, the rough ones and the interesting ones, leaving him bland and boring, like a bald head. But when he’d been on them a while, it got better, she’d remind him. Going off and on like he did wasn’t the right way to manage the frustration at the lack of ups and downs.
But he’d gone off of them again. She knew it now. Kieran had suspected it the last time he’d been out visiting with Frankie and after he’d called to tell Dom about the new baby, he’d panicked and called her. Which promoted her to call him. Which she very much wished she had not done.
The baby shifted to one side, making her wince. “Ow.” She poked her belly, prodding the kid to the middle and off her liver. Lee put his large, warm palm on her stomach, then his lips next to her poked-out belly button.
“Cut the crap in there. You’re wearing your poor mama out.” The girl gave a quick flutter, like she always did when Lee spoke to her.
“Such a daddy’s girl already,” Diana joked as she threaded her fingers through his dark hair. But she loved it, adored her husband and the baby girl her body had finally managed to hang on to longer than four months. They had a nursery ready, all in bright primary colors. Diana had no intention of making her girlie like Jen had been or tomboy, as she’d been raised in lieu of a son. They’d moved into her family farmhouse, redone the kitchen to her specifications and added a master suite on the first floor. Lee still owned his fancy log cabin by the lake, renting it out every now and then, but unwilling to let it go.
The first months of their marriage had been consumed by her total obsession with getting pregnant. She’d been manic. When not obsessed with making Brantley’s Farm banquet hall a wild success, the fact that she’d not gotten immediately knocked up cast a real pall over their relationship at first. Diana truly had no explanation for it.
“Do you only want me for my sperm, Diana? Because I can put some of that in a turkey baster for you,” Lee had stated once in that infernally calm way he possessed.
“You’re an unbelievable asshole.” She’d glared down at the monthly, bloody evidence of her body’s inability to do its simple, female duty. “Go to hell.”
He’d handed her a washcloth so she could clean up, then gone out and gotten tested to make sure he was capable of impregnating her. By the end of their first year of marriage, she’d had one early miscarriage, but hadn’t given up hope. When her second pregnancy ended right before the sixth month in a horrific mess, she’d gone into such a deep depression it had taken intervention from Lindsay Love, followed by a set of talk-therapy sessions with Lee and Margot Love to help her over the hump.
She’d existed in a weird sort of bubble for a few months, floating between devastated and determined. Lee had attempted to address that by taking her on a dream vacation—three whole weeks, all the way to Spain and France where the baby she now carried had been conceived.
And since she’d breached the wall and was on the downslope of her much-desired pregnancy, some kind of hormonal panic button seemed to have been pushed in her brain. Everything alarmed her, from barking dogs to car horns, and the thought of Lee leaving her even for four days to attend some horse conference out West wigged her out in ways she had never experienced before.
“Jen’s gonna stay with me and bring her girls. I’ll be fine.” But she didn’t mean it. A strange kind of panicky anxiety gripped her and would not let go. Lee kissed her forehead, then sipped his tea as something played on the television she barely registered. After an hour, she had to pee again, so Lee pulled her up and she waddled toward the new downstairs guest bathroom.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s a grown man. He’ll be fine. Where’s
the aspirin,” Lee asked. “This damn headache will not go away.” She waved at the cabinet that held all the over-the-counter pills and vitamins and leaned on the island, taking pressure off her kidneys and spine. Lee popped a few pills in his mouth, drank a glass of water and smiled at her. “You’re so beautiful when you’re miserable.”
“Oh, really? Well then, come to bed and rub my back.” She straightened. The baby gave her a quick flutter-kick. She glanced down at her phone when it dinged with a text from Kieran.
Can you call me?
She put the device to her ear and shot Lee an apologetic smile. “Sorry, honey. Just a few minutes.”
Lee kissed her forehead then headed toward their bedroom, mouthing the words, hurry up, I’m going to bed, to her.
“He sounded bad, Kieran. I’m really worried. Although if you ask my husband, I worry about squirrels getting run over in the road right now.”
“Yeah, Cara gets like that, too. It’ll pass. Do you think someone should go out there? Check on the two of them?”
She pressed the small of her back against the countertop. “Part of me says yes, the other, no. He’s a grown man and insisted on taking Jace out there.”
“I know. I realize we enable him to fuck up when we keep rescuing him.”
“Let’s give it another while, then check in again. Maybe we caught him on a bad day. I just wish he’d call your mama and alleviate some of her stress. How’s your daddy? I know he really latched on to Jace for a while there.”
Diana heard the bleeping sound of a baby in the background. “He’s…he’s Daddy. Stoic, won’t talk about it other than to curse if someone mentions Dominic’s name. The usual. I gotta go. Duty calls.”
“Okay. Take care. I’ll call him in a few days and let you know.”
“Thanks, Di. What’ve you got left? Few weeks?”
