What Tears Us Down: A Single Dad Standalone Romance (Arrow Creek Book 3)

by A. M. Wilson

  I turn my attention to the door swinging open. Rhett steps just inside the threshold, his face a mixture of concern and confusion as he sees me. I wonder if he heard part of what I said through the door.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asks, capturing my attention again. My eyes remain locked on Rhett’s as I answer.

  “Because I’m not one of the lucky ones. Not yet anyway. And as much as it hurts that I may never have a baby of my own, I’m falling in love with your little boy day by day.”

  Rhett’s brown eyes heat, and his nostrils flare.

  “Sounds to me like you don’t need me at all.” The conviction in Nora’s earlier tone has burned itself out.

  “I’m not his mother.” I swallow hard to force down the lump in my throat. “I won’t ever be his mother. But I can tuck him in and make him pancakes and patch skinned elbows and knees if you refuse to step up and be here.”

  While Nora remains silent, Rhett closes the distance between us and crouches in front of me. His warm palms settle on each of my thighs, and his face is filled with such open love and desire that I want to chuck this phone across the room and climb into his lap.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Nora breaks into the moment.

  The phone is suddenly jostled from my hand, and Rhett puts it to his ear. My open mouth snaps closed as he speaks.

  “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just know I can sleep at night knowing we did everything to have you in Tommy’s life. Either you put in the effort to be there or not. The choice is yours.”

  With that, he disconnects the call.

  “Rhett! We were having a decent moment.”

  His lips settle over mine in a demanding kiss.

  “Moment’s over.”

  2 months after that…

  Evie

  The envelope in my hand crinkles. The swirling scrawl of my sister-in-law’s writing sends a concerned ache through my chest. She recently moved back to the States, and one of the first things she does is send me a letter. If I could roll my eyes at her, I would. What I’d give to see her right now and give her a hug.

  I move my gaze from the mysterious note to take in the dawn rising over the cliffs. The warm sky is a mixture of periwinkle and tangerine as cotton clouds float overhead. This isn’t the first time I’ve come back since I received the news that altered my life, but this is the first time I’ve come back alone.

  Standing from a rock, I brush my hands over my backside to remove debris and walk closer to the edge. Just like the first day I stood here, the significance of my place in this world is thrust into perspective. The minuscule problems of daily life bleed away.

  I take a lingering inhale of the sweet-smelling pink rose before I crouch and place it on the edge of the cliff.

  “I miss you, brother.”

  As I straighten, the wind tosses my hair against my face like a warm finger brushing my cheek.

  I slip a finger beneath the fold of the envelope and tear it open. The paper rustles in the breeze as it unfolds. The short handwritten paragraph draws a crinkle from my forehead.

  Evie,

  Eric wanted you to have this. We talked about it the day we left Arrow Creek. He was saving this money from your parents' estate for your wedding. When things fell through with Tate, he thought he’d continue to hold on to it. Of course, that was before he learned of your living situation.

  He planned to send this as soon as we returned to Germany, but that day never came.

  He told me he wanted you to have it for housing, and even infertility treatments if that’s what you choose to do. I don’t need to know what you do with it as it belongs to you. Please know I’m taken care of. This money has always been yours.

  I’ll see you soon.

  Love you,

  Caiti

  A hot tear trickles down my cheek. I brush it away with the back of my hand and fortify myself with a steely breath. I don’t bother checking the amount on the check. Instead, I dig my cell from my pocket, not sure if I’ll receive much reception up here, but I have to try. I scroll to Caiti’s name.

  The phone rings continuously, as it has for much of the last two months.

  “Hey, this is Caiti Harris. Leave a message.”

  I hang up without leaving a message. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.

  2 months after that…

  Evie

  Rhett and I lie in the loft in my house, tangled in the sheets with a baby monitor on the bedside table. Minutes ago, little babbles and random words filled the peaceful silence as Tommy woke in the house next door. My head rests against Rhett’s broad chest while he twists a curl of my hair around his finger.

  “What time does Caiti land today?”

  I prop my elbow on his chest. “I’ll pick her up from the airport at six, and we’ll drive straight to Calypso’s for dinner and drinks.”

  He releases the unruly curl and strokes his hand down the length of my hair. “How’s she been doing?”

  I drop my chin to his chest and flick my gaze in the opposite direction. “I don’t think she’s doing great, actually. She’s been back in the States for two months, and it’s taken her this long to visit. I feel like she’s hiding something.”

  “She’s still grieving. I’m sure the adjustment isn’t easy.”

  “I know.” I press an open-mouthed kiss to his pecs. “I’m just glad she’s finally making her way out East. A night out and a raging hangover might be of some assistance.”

  Rhett laughs. “You two are going to regret it. Nothing good comes from getting that drunk once you hit thirty.”

  “Lucky for me, I have a few years to go.”

  I begin a downward descent and plaster kisses along his naked torso on my way. My intentions are clear. Rhett settles back with his hands behind his head and a blissful expression on his face.

  “Where’re you going, Rosie?”

  I reach the sexy groove at his hip with a smile on my face and run my tongue along the ridge.

  Before I can answer, the volume of the baby monitor increases. “Daddah.”

  “This kid is giving me blue balls.” Rhett releases a pained groan.

  His abdomen receives one more kiss before I roll off him to get dressed. “You’ll have to sneak over earlier tomorrow.” I find myself pinned to the mattress with a hand gripping my throat.

  “Or you could move in with me.”

  This is the first time in six months that Rhett has made the proposition, staying true to his word to give me space. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t asked sooner.

  “Okay,” I reply easily, more than ready to move on to the next chapter of our lives.

  Shock drops his mouth open for half a second. “That’s it? No arguments or discussions?”

  “I’ve been waking up to you in my bed every morning for the past five and a half months. We’re practically living together as it is.”

  “Fuck, woman. I thought I’d have to fight harder to see the day.”

  So did I.

  But Rhett was right about getting me out of my car. Coming home to an actual house with a shower after work each day boosted my overall morale. The money from Tate helped pay down half my debt, and with a roof over my head, it didn’t take long to cover the rest. All I needed was to stop being so stubborn and accept a tiny bit of help for everything else to fall into place.

  “I’m a bit surprised myself,” I tease. He dives in for a deep kiss that quickly turns my insides to liquid.

  “Dad, I’m hungry.” Tommy’s request halts our sexy endeavor.

  Rhett runs his nose along the length of my cheek. “Later, after your night out, I’m going to have my way with this sexy body.”

  “You mean once I’m easy and drunk?”

  “We haven’t explored that option yet.”

  Rhett being a single dad to Tommy means we haven’t had a lot of time to go out together. Nora still hasn’t returned, not even a peep to check in on Tommy. Seems she really was only usin
g him as a way to hurt Rhett.

  “I’m looking forward to it. Might be our only chance for a while, depending on how long Caiti stays.”

  “All the more reason to find us a new place sooner than later.” Rhett climbs off to get dressed, and I follow suit.

  “I think…I mean, if you’re okay with it…I’m okay with it.” I wring my hands together.

  His brows crease as I struggle to find the words. His hands circle around my back to pull me close. “What is it?”

  “We can move back to the house.”

  “Are you sure?” He brushes my hair from my forehead.

  “More than sure. Enough time has passed, and it’s just a house, right? We can make it our own.”

  “If that’s what you want, then I’m all in.”

  “Except the bed.”

  “We’ll set fire to the bed,” he confirms.

  I rise on my tiptoes to kiss his lips and bring my mouth to his ear. “I’ve had several fantasies involving you and the bench seat in the master bath. Even before I knew the house was yours,” I whisper.

  “Rosie. Get your ass back in this bed.”

  “Can’t!” I squeal and push out of his arms. My thundering footsteps pound down the stairs, Rhett hot on my heels. “Tommy needs breakfast!”

  I shriek as he catches me, dipping me low for another searing kiss.

  “God, I love you,” he mutters against my mouth. I pull back just far enough to witness the look of love in his eyes, one I’ve never seen directed at me before in my life.

  “I love you too, Rhett Senova.”

  Later that same night…

  Evie

  The minute I picked up Caiti from the airport, I knew something was wrong. Grief stole a chunk of her vibrancy, but she hid the depth of her pain through months of phone calls and texts. Sitting in a rowdy bar environment and pounding shots like water is a woman I’ve never met before. Drowning in her grief. Masking the depth of her pain.

  “We should probably head home,” I shout to be heard above the chatter as the inkling of a headache splits my skull.

  Rhett stands at my side, nursing a drink while talking to the bartender. He arrived forty minutes ago to drive us home, but Caiti refuses to budge. I don’t miss the way a quiet Dane steals concerned glances at my sister.

  She grimaces with her latest shot. “You can leave if you’d like. I’m going to stay.”

  “My head hurts,” I try to guilt her.

  “Take a pill,” she mutters.

  “Caiti. Something isn’t right.”

  “Nothing is right,” she snaps back and flicks her empty shot glass across the bar top. “Give me another!”

  I glance helplessly at the two observant men. Dane grabs the bottle of vodka and fills her glass.

  “Last one for a while, miss. I’ll get you a water.”

  “You can’t do that!” Caiti argues on the edge of belligerence.

  Dane sets an icy highball glass filled to the brim in front of her before leaning his elbows against the bar. “I can because I’m the owner.”

  “Killjoy,” she mutters beneath her breath, provoking a rare smirk from him.

  Rhett latches onto my elbow and gestures for me to come with him.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Caiti.

  “I’ll be right here.” She raises her shot in a salute and downs the glass.

  He leads me a quarter way down the bar, weaving through patrons as we go. He fits us between a couple of stools and rubs warmth into my upper arms.

  “Are you okay?”

  “It’s a headache. I’m fine.” I worry my bottom lip with my teeth and squeeze my forehead. “I should have checked on her more. I should have made her come visit sooner.”

  “You’ve done everything you can. You and I both know it’s impossible to force a stubborn woman to do something she doesn’t want to do.” His gaze is pointed.

  “Yeah, well, now she doesn’t want to leave, but I can’t leave her here alone.”

  “I can keep an eye on her.”

  I look at the quiet bartender who’s injected himself into our conversation. He’s braced himself with both hands flat against the gleaming counter.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you very well, and she’s my sister.”

  “I’ve seen grief like that. Sometimes it’s better to let it wring itself out, and I have enough on staff tonight to join her while she does that.” He yanks the white towel off his shoulder and buffs the handprints from the bar.

  “He’s good people,” Rhett says quietly to me. “I trust him, but I understand if you don’t.”

  “It’s just an offer so the two of you can get out of here. I can comp her tab and drive her home when the bar closes in…” He checks his black wristwatch. “An hour and a half.”

  If Rhett trusts him, I know I can too. It’s just my heart aches at seeing her torn up like this.

  “You’ll get her home safe? No funny business?” I seek confirmation.

  He grunts humorlessly. “You have my word.”

  I look at Rhett and sigh. “As long as she’s okay with it, I guess it’s not a bad solution for everyone.”

  Rhett releases me to unhook a key from his keyring. “This is for the house she’s in. One on the right once you pull into the driveway.”

  “Got it.”

  When we return, Caiti regards her water with a sullen expression. “This sucks,” she mutters.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s get home and sleep it off. Tomorrow, we can take a walk by the river, and I can show you the Swinging Bridge.”

  “I said I don’t want to go. Not yet.” She chugs half her glass of water while I’m stunned into silence. The Caiti I know never talked to anyone like this. Sure, she could be heated in arguments, but she typically manifested her emotions in the form of tears, not aggression.

  Knowing she has someone to keep her safe, I deadbolt my own emotions tight with an internal promise to force her into a serious talk tomorrow. She needs help. Not the kind of cloak the alcohol provides.

  “If you want to stay, then Dane’s promised to get you home safe. He’s a good friend of Rhett’s.” I gesture to the tall bartender as I ask the quiet words. “Do you want to stay?”

  She appraises him with a critical eye. When she returns her gaze to mine, the pain is diminished. Hidden, but not gone. God, it would torment Eric to see her this way. “Yes. I want to stay.”

  “I love you.” I bid her goodbye, wrapping my arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “I love you too.”

  Rhett wraps my hand securely in his and tows me to the door. Before stepping into the biting fall night air, I glance back. Dane occupies the stool I vacated. With a full beer in front of him, and his eyes pinned on Caiti as she talks animatedly, he appears to soak up each word.

  Tonight, I’ll sleep off this headache.

  Then tomorrow, I’ll work on getting my Caiti back.

  Around seven the following morning…

  Evie

  A heavy chorus of booms sounds against the door, rousing me from a dead sleep. Bleary-eyed and dazed, I check the time on my phone.

  “Ugh. Who is that?”

  Rhett rolls onto his side and up, sliding into the wrinkled jeans I tore off him last night.

  “I’ll check.”

  Knowing I’m visible from the front door, I drag on my robe from the end of the bed, belting it closed as the door swings open.

  Dane stands much like Rhett, shirtless and in a pair of jeans.

  “Is she here?” He peers around Rhett.

  “What did you do?” I screech as I fly down the stairs, my heart pounding in time to my footsteps.

  He scrubs a palm down his tired face.

  “I fucked up.”

  ###

  If you want to find out what happens with Caiti and Dane, preorder Where Our Turn Begins!

  https://books2read.com/u/3Gwdvd

  That’s a wrap on Rhett & E
vie! I hope you enjoyed reading their story! These two stole my heart from the very first meeting. If you loved their journey too, please consider sharing with a friend or leaving a review.

  What To Read Next

  Keep Reading for Kiersten and Nathan’s Story

  https://books2read.com/u/47XYz7

  Chapter One

  Kiersten

  Hand me a fun-size bag of M&M’s and there wouldn’t be enough candies to count the number of one-night stands I’ve had in my life. Hell, make it two bags, and I’ll gladly eat the leftovers.

  I won’t ever apologize for the woman I am. Thirty-seven isn’t one foot in the grave, and nearing forty while single isn’t a death sentence.

  However, at this exact moment, I regret some of my rambunctious actions of the past twenty-four hours. I feel the need to seek penance from Our Holy Creator in exchange for a little reprieve from the throbbing in my head and the ache in my joints.

  There’s plenty of truth in saying we get less limber as we age, and I knew a backbend while I rode cowgirl was a stupid idea, but the vodka screamed yes! and my vagina backed that bitch up with a hell, yeah!

  I bent and warped and cracked.

  Nearly crippled myself all in the name of rough, wild sex.

  Reality smacks me in the face this morning. I’m no longer a twenty-year-old spring chicken, proven by the pain rocketing through my back, and dammit, does that make me sound like an arthritic grandmother.

  Groaning quietly from a pillowy cocoon of black sheets I don’t recognize, I wait for the hazy film obscuring my vision to recede. Squinting against the harsh sunlight—who doesn’t own freaking bedroom curtains?—I scan my surroundings, stop, and do a double take on the set of fantastic toned buns peeking from beneath the top sheet. And I’m not talking about bread.