by Zoe York
He hadn’t meant it like this. He had never wanted his brothers to take on dangerous jobs the way he had. “Why couldn’t he be a house painter or something?”
“Way up high on ladders?”
“Fuck off.”
Will smiled. “Adam’s going to be okay. Becca is, too. And so are you.”
Owen frowned. “I know I am.”
“You’ve been extra grumpy lately. Maybe you should get out of the house.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Out of the firehouse, too.” Will narrowed his eyes. “When was the last time you went to the Green Hedgehog?”
“Did you and Adam team tag me with this?”
“Hand to God, we did not. Why?”
“Nothing.” He rolled his neck. “I’m fine. I promise, I’m not being too hard on Becca about this. I’m giving her the space she needs. I’m doing my best.”
“She’s going to be okay.”
“That’s what I told her as soon as she found out.”
“Good.”
Owen gave his brother an appraising look. “Can I ask you an honest question?”
“Sure.”
“Would you be saying the same thing if she were a student of yours, and not your niece?”
Will didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Owen wasn’t sure why he’d asked that. Doubt swam in the same waters as fear, probably.
“We’re all just trying to do the best with what we’ve got,” his brother said. “And you know this—young adults are resilient, and they need to make their own decisions so they can learn from them.”
“All right. Life lesson noted.”
“If we’re asking honest questions, can I ask you one?” Will looked like he was on guard, but fair was fair.
Owen nodded.
“Would you do anything differently? Becca’s in your shoes now. Looking back…”
“No.” Owen shook his head forcefully. “That’s never crossed my mind. I just didn’t know how hard it was going to be.”
It wasn’t having Becca so young that he resented. It was then having two young brothers dumped in his lap when their parents died. Having another two teenagers who knew keenly he was not their parent. A house he couldn’t afford, that had to be sold, and then years of renting before he could buy his little bungalow.
If his parents hadn’t died, it just would have all been a little easier.
The previous generation of Kincaids worked themselves to early deaths. Owen didn’t want any of his brothers to follow in their parents’ footsteps. He’d been counting down the months to freedom, to his own chance to enjoy life to its fullest.
But looking at Will across the table, he couldn’t bring himself to say any of that out loud. His pessimism was his own burden, not to be shared with his brother. So he stuck to repeating part of the truth. “Becca is the best part of my life. Hands down.”
When he got home from work, there was a note on the fridge that Becca had run out to Mac’s to get fries. Owen texted her to let her know he was back, then he pulled out the step stool that lived beside the fridge and opened the door to the storage crawlspace above the back porch.
The box of CDs he wanted was at the back and covered in a thick layer of dust.
Today had been a disaster from top to bottom, but maybe he could salvage it by putting together a box for Will’s Vintage Media Lab.
Twenty minutes later, he had his laptop out, surrounded by memories. His plan had originally been to rip the music off the CDs to keep in .mp3 form before he donated them. But he was having a harder time parting with some of the plastic jewel cases than he thought he would.
It didn’t make any sense—that box had been in the crawl space since he bought the house. Nostalgia worked in strange ways.
He heard Becca’s car pull into the driveway, then turn off. The headlights flashed, then he heard her footsteps on the stairs. When the door opened, he waved from the couch. “I’m here.”
“Oh my God, Dad. What are you doing?”
“Going through my old CDs for Will’s Vintage Media Lab project.”
Becca dropped her bag on the floor, then joined him on the couch. She had a cardboard box full of fries. “Hungry?”
“I’m good.” He glanced at the fries, then at his daughter. It was a full box, and they looked fresh. He’d been home for at least a half an hour, and Mac’s was a two-minute drive away. Fries weren’t the only thing she’d gone out for, but Will’s caution rang in his ears. She would need to make her own decisions, and learn from them. “How was your day?”
She shrugged. “School was fine.”
That was it. He poked further. “And you told your uncles about the baby.”
“I said I was ready to start telling people.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “I guess I wasn’t completely prepared.”
“Did they both descend on you at the same time?”
“One-two punch. Adam first, then Will slid in for a good ol’ guidance counselling session.”
Becca giggled. “He’s good at that. I got it, too. He suggested some college programs that are all distance education.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I dunno. Don’t get your hopes up. One thing at a time.”
Owen laughed. “Hopes properly stored at a very low level.”
She leaned over and picked up the album on the top of the pile. “Lonestar. You used to play this when I was little.”
“Stop making me feel old.” But he didn’t mean it. Every year with Becca had been full of memories just like that.
“You aren’t old,” she said softly. “You’re pretty much the same age as the other moms on the pregnancy groups online.”
He didn’t miss the weird note in her voice. He set the CDs aside and looked at her, really close. “How you doing?”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “You know. It’s fine.”
“Two words often used to describe things that are not, in fact, fine.”
She blew a raspberry.
Owen frowned. “Do you need something?”
She shook her head. “No. No. And I don’t want—” She stopped, raised her hands as if to reset the conversation. “It was just a down-in-my-feels moment. I’m all good. Let’s talk about the CDs. Are you getting rid of all of them?”
“They aren’t going that far. But actually, I think I’m going to keep a few.” He held up a Rascal Flatts album. “Like this one. Speaking of taking me back. I listened to it a lot when I was away at school, when you were a toddler. That was my deep-in-my-feels period. I missed you so much, and I just wanted to find the path that would bring me home to you.”
Becca’s eyes welled up. “Dad!”
“What?”
“That’s really sweet.” She wrinkled her nose, clearly trying not to cry.
He held out his arms, and she scooted sideways. As she leaned on him, she took the plastic CD case and turned it over in her hands. “You know, it’s kind of like an archeological dig for your emo journey.”
“Whoa, let’s not go too far.” He laughed, but she wasn’t wrong.
They went through the rest of the CDs together, playing some of the songs as they went, tracing his emo journey, as she put it.
But he wasn’t prepared for the last jewel case Becca picked up. It wasn’t metal, and it wasn’t country, the two types of music he usually listened to.
“What’s this one?”
Owen took the Dire Straits album, his throat closing up with emotion. The answer came out strained to his own ear. “That was your grandpa’s.”
“Can we listen to it?”
“Yeah, of course.” He blinked, his eyes suddenly hot and scratchy. He had to disentangle himself from his daughter, which was for the best. He didn’t want her to see his eyes get wet, or the way it took him a second to pull himself together before he could put the CD in the computer.
His dad had probably been Owen’s age now when he bought it. He hoped like hell that Be
cca would never be having the same conversation one day with her kid about the Lonestar CD. He wanted to be around to share the music himself.
“What are you thinking about?”
He glanced back at his daughter as the music started. “Lots of things. Probably the last time I heard this CD was when you were a baby.”
“And now I’m having a baby.”
Zing. Sometimes his daughter was too smart for her own good. He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. There’s some circle of life stuff going on in my head.”
“I knew it was an emo journey!” And sometimes she was a teenager, through and through.
He chuckled, grateful for the laugh. “Yeah. Listen, Bec…”
“Mmm?”
“I know I’ve had quite the period of adjustment to the pregnancy. But I see how happy you are, and I just want you to know that I’m not angry.”
“I know you’re not.” She tried to hold his gaze, but blinked and looked down after a second.
“Becca.”
She rolled her head. “I know, Dad! I know you’re not mad! But you’re disappointed that I’m repeating the whole…” She waved her hand. “You know.”
“It’s more complicated than that. It’s not disappointment, honey. It’s fear. When you were a baby—the most perfect baby I had ever seen in my entire life—you were the only thing that felt right. I don’t want you and your baby to be lost in a storm like that.”
She slowed her movements and looked at him. “Oh.”
“Your mom and I love you so much. With all of our hearts. But things were rough for us.”
“This is about Hayden.”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Dad.”
“What? You don’t talk about him at all.”
“Because you don’t like him.”
She had a point. He softened his face as much as possible. “Have you been talking?”
“Yeah. Some.”
“You know, your mom and I know something about having a baby with someone who isn’t…”
Becca tensed. “Isn’t what?”
He stumbled. “Has your mom talked to you about this?”
“She tried. Just about as well as you are.” She moved away from him, but didn’t leap off the couch.
He held his breath.
“It’s complicated.”
He willed himself to not make a face at her earnest confession. He could imagine just how complicated it was for the hot stud hockey player to suddenly be faced with the consequences of being reckless.
Becca licked her lower lip, then sighed. “He doesn’t want the coach to know.” Do not react, do not react, do not… She threw her hands in the air. “Which is stupid, right?”
Owen let out the breath he’d been holding.
And his daughter laughed. Thank God. “Yeah, it’s stupid,” she said quietly. “But I don’t want to cut him out of my life completely, because maybe once the baby is born he’ll change his mind. And if he doesn’t, so be it. I’m not going to lose sleep over him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Owen reached out and cupped his daughter’s face in his hands. “You are the best person, you know that? And I worry about everything, but only a little. Because I know you have a smart head on your shoulders. I do.” To reinforce the point, he kissed her forehead before sitting back. “And whatever happens, you know I’ve got your back, right?”
“I don’t need you to go and beat him up.”
“I would.”
“Dad!” She burst out laughing. “Have you considered that he might hurt you?”
“Not even for a second. I have old man strength.”
“I thought we agreed you aren’t old.”
They had agreed on nothing of the sort. “Agree to disagree.”
“Uh uh.” Becca shook her head. “You’re still a young man. Young enough to have babies of your own, all over again,” she teased.
He howled. “Nah. Never gonna happen.”
She giggled. “You never wanted more kids after perfection on the first try?”
“Exactly.” He chuckled and leaned his head back against the sofa cushion. Once upon a time, he had thought he’d have a big family, just like his parents. But his path had gone in a very different direction, and that had been for the best—because then he did have a big family, suddenly, and it had been chaos. They’d all barely survived. No, he had no interest in starting that all over again.
And once Becca was past her maternity leave, she might move out on her own with the baby, and he could get his Great Bachelor Plans back underway.
Chapter Eight
In early April, Owen had a conversation with Matt Foster, one of his paramedics, that didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.
He received an email, read it, sighed, and went to find the right sucker to take it on. Matt didn’t mind being volun-told to do things, especially if he could make some overtime pay in the process. He was a young husband, with a step-daughter and another baby on the way.
Owen found him doing inventory on one of their ambulances. “Hey, I’ve got a job for you. Public Health is pulling together a regional health providers working group on opioids and community impact of methamphetamines. They’re looking for volunteers. Monthly meetings for the next six months, looking at the peninsula interagency...”
“Full disclosure, you lost me at working group. Briefly grabbed my attention again at meth in the community, but the six months thing is a deal-breaker.” Matt slapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. Sometimes you can talk me into this shit, but not for this summer. I’m going to be on a reduced workload, winding down my shifts so I can take a few months of parental leave, remember?”
Fuck. Where had Owen’s head been at? Matt’s wife Natasha was due right around the same time as Becca. “I knew that.”
“Does it need to be a paramedic? Kerry Humphrey has shown an interest in the interagency stuff.”
Owen scowled. It was the safest expression he could manage, and everyone read it as a grumpy anyway. That reputation didn’t hurt him. “I’d rather keep it in house. We have unique concerns. It’s fine, I’ll go myself.”
He went back to his desk, replied to the email, and moved on with his day, the moment forgotten until two weeks later when his door swung open and someone started yelling at him.
“Do you have a problem with me?”
He lifted his head and found Kerry glaring at him. That was a complicated question. Yeah, he kind of did, but it was the type of problem a man should keep to himself because it was really his issue, not hers. Lord help him if she ever found out. So he did the smart thing and kept his trap shut.
She threw her hands in the air.
“What?”
“What what?” She howled, echoing his word back at him. “You never say anything!”
“I don’t know what we’re doing here.”
“You nixed my involvement in an interagency working group?”
He was going to kill Matt. “Not exactly.”
“Whoa.” She raised her hands in the air. “Not exactly? Don’t play dumb.”
Every fibre of his being wanted to stand up and tower over her, tell her to get out of his face and give him a minute to think. He couldn’t keep his head straight around her, and she’d caught him off guard. Yeah, that was a stupid thing for him to have said to Matt, but he’d had his reasons. Not great ones. But he’d had reasons. Or at least one reason, and in the four months since he’d met her, he thought he’d done a pretty good job of burying the way she affected him, the way she scrambled his thoughts.
Maybe he hadn’t.
Instead of surging to his feet, he rocked back in his chair and let her glare at him some more. “How’d you hear about the interagency working group?”
“Probably the same way you did. The health unit email loop. My senior partner forwarded the call for a representative from the middle of the peninsula, suggested we get a midwife in there because our client base is a vulner
able population, and affected by drug use in their homes, too. I rang them up and they said you’d be representing Pine Harbour and Lion’s Head. I asked to sit on it as well, they called you, and you said no. Which I don’t really think is your role, because who made you king? So here I am, demanding an answer.”
Ah, so it wasn’t Matt Foster he had to kill. That was a relief. Shame it was himself that was actually to blame. “Here’s the thing…”
She waited.
He didn’t elaborate. God damn it. He had blocked her. He hadn’t meant that to be the impact, but—
Before he could fix his thoughts in any organized apology, she huffed and leaned in. “Look, I know you don’t like me. That’s fine. But this is my community now, too, and I want to be a part of things.”
What?
No.
He meant, yes, of course it was her community too. God damn it. His mouth fell open, then snapped shut again. He could see her anger amping up, it was in her eyes, and her body language, and he needed to fix it.
Kerry was so forking close to storming out of his office and following up with an email, because oh boy, was she steamed, and getting madder by the second. A paper trail would be smarter than a one-sided screaming match.
Why was he just staring at her?
His jaw worked, and then he leaned forward, his gaze guarded and careful. “I never said I didn’t like you.”
She laughed. That was the part he grabbed on to? “You don’t need to say it. It’s clear.”
“Wait.” He reached out and caught her hand, his fingers hot against her skin. As quickly as he grabbed her, his grip released and he dropped her arm. His eyes flared wide, his attention locked on her face. “I like you just fine, Kerry. There’s a lot going on, that’s all. And I didn’t know it was you. The other person. I didn’t know it was you when they called.”
I like you just fine. Heaven help his friends and family if this was how he treated people he liked just fine. She was tempted to point that out. But she didn’t, and he didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
“I’m going to find out when that meeting is and just show up anyway,” she said, trying to ignore the way she could still feel his touch on her skin.
