“DADDY!” BRIDGET RAN OUT of the school, her smile wide. Her dark hair was in braids that bounced on her back as she trotted toward me, and her backpack dangled from one shoulder.
“Hey, pretty girl!” I caught her with both arms and swung her up. “How was school today?”
Her grin began to fade. “It was okay.”
I set her back on her feet. I’d been told that eight years was too old to hold her for more than just a hug, and I was conscious of not embarrassing my daughter in front of her friends at school. Fatherhood was new, but I remembered being in second grade. “Why was it just okay? Did something happen?”
She shrugged as I led her toward my truck. I’d returned the Audi to the rental company two weeks before and leased a Chevy pickup from the dealership. I’d never considered myself a truck man, but it felt right, what with my new life in Burton. Opening the passenger door, I boosted Bridget into the cab, and she climbed into the small backseat.
I didn’t press her for an answer as we drove to my mom’s house. She was quiet, and that worried me. One thing I’d learned about my daughter in the past three weeks was that she was a bubbly, happy kid. Nothing seemed to bother her, not even when Graham, my little demon of a nephew, tortured her dolls. Glancing at her small face in the rearview mirror, I saw only troubled brown eyes. No sparkle, no laughter.
I turned into my mother’s driveway, pulling to the side so that Mom could get to the garage after she got home. I knew she wouldn’t be long behind me; she’d gone back to work at the library last week, but she always cut out early on Tuesdays, when Bridget stayed with us.
After I shut off the engine, Bridge undid her seatbelt and slid into the front seat. Before she could open the door, I caught her arm. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? What happened today?”
She frowned again and twisted the end of one braid around her finger. “Nothing.”
I sighed, rubbing my hand over my jaw. “Do you miss your mom? Do you want me to drive you home? I mean, back to the farm?” It hurt that she might feel that way, but seeing her smile again was more important than how I felt.
Bridget shook her head. “No. I mean . . . I miss Mom, but I know I’m going to see her tomorrow, and I want to be with you, too.” Her lip stuck out, trembling just a little.
“Bridget, honey, talk to me. I want to know what’s wrong.” When she didn’t answer, I dug into my pocket and brought out my cell phone. “Want to call your mom and talk to her? Would that help?”
“No, thanks.” She clamored onto her knees. “Can we go inside now? Grandma said she was making me brownies for today.”
“Okay.” I climbed out and went around to the other side to help her down. We went into the house, and as was her habit, Bridget hung her backpack on the newel post and followed me into the kitchen. I cut two brownies, poured us some milk and was just about to join her at the table when my phone buzzed. The readout on the screen blinked twice, signaling an incoming call. Ali.
I hit the button and answered. “Hey, Ali. Everything okay?”
Her voice, low and coated with a lifetime of Georgia, filled my head. “Uh, hey, Flynn. Yeah, I think so—but can I talk to you just a minute? Is Bridget right there with you?”
I glanced at my daughter, who was completely involved with her chocolate. I couldn’t help smiling at the sight. “Yeah, we just got home. She’s elbow-deep in Grandma’s brownies.”
“Mmmm. Color me jealous.” Ali’s near-purr went straight down through my center and settled between my legs. I coughed and turned my back.
“So what’s up?” I didn’t mean to sound gruff, but Ali’s voice changed to all business.
“I got a call from the school just now. Bridget’s teacher, Mrs. Hazelbeck, said there was some kind of dust-up on the playground.”
“Bridge was fighting?” My daughter was a scrapper, but she was usually a pretty chill kid.
“No, she wasn’t, but someone was. I guess it was a kid named Charlie and Graham.”
“Graham? My nephew?”
“Yeah.” Ali exhaled long a long breath. “Mrs. Hazelbeck said no one wanted to talk, but she finally got the whole story out of Charlie. Apparently, Graham was giving Bridget a hard time, and Charlie was defending her.”
A lump formed in my stomach. “What do you mean, a hard time? About what?”
“Ah, Flynn, they’re kids, you know. Kids say stuff all the time.” She hesitated, and I knew she was reluctant to speak the next words. “Graham was telling the other kids that Bridget wasn’t really your daughter. He said she was just pretending because her real daddy left her when she was just a baby.”
I closed my eyes. Damn it. Forcing a smile, I patted Bridget’s back. “Honey, I’m going to step outside and talk to your mama for a minute, okay? I’ll be right back in.”
I opened the screen door and stood on the back stoop. “Ali, what the hell? What was he talking about?”
“I don’t really know. I’m just telling you what the teacher said Charlie told her. Is Bridget okay? Mrs. H. said she was a little shaken up. That’s why she called.”
“She was quiet all the way home, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. Shit. What’s wrong with Graham? Why would he be such a jerk?”
Ali didn’t answer for a minute. “Well, maybe he’s not so happy about his new cousin. He’s been the only child, the only grandchild for a long time. Could be he doesn’t like sharing the spotlight.”
I thought of his interaction with Bridget at my mom’s house. I’d noticed he didn’t seem to be welcoming her with open arms, but he was a boy. Boys didn’t do warm and fuzzy. I figured in a few weeks, they’d be playing together in the backyard, the best of friends.
Clearly I’d been wrong.
“So what do I do?” This was beyond my meager parenting skills. I’d only screw it up. “Do you want me to bring her home? Or do you want to come out here to talk to her?”
Ali laughed. “No, Flynn. If you bring her back to the farm, she’ll think she’s being punished. And if I drive all the way into town, she’s going to think it’s a bigger deal than it is. Maybe just talk to her. Give her some assurance. Oh, and if I were you, I’d talk to Iona and find out what’s going on with her son.”
“Yeah, you can bet on it.” I cleared my throat. “Listen, Ali. Thanks. You could’ve made a big deal out of this. But you’re trusting me to handle it, and I really appreciate it.”
“You’re her father.” Ali spoke softly. “I know most guys get a little ramp up time to this kind of deal, and I’m sorry you’re getting tossed into the deep end, but you can handle it.”
“I hope so.” I turned as I heard my mom’s car. “Listen, I’ll call you tonight and let you know how it goes, all right?”
“Uh . . .” She sounded a little flustered. “You don’t have to report back to me, Flynn. We can just talk tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll call tonight.” Ali trusted me, and I wanted to repay that with full disclosure. “I’ll talk to you then, okay? After Bridge goes to sleep.”
“Okay.” She spoke on a whisper. “Talk to you then.”
I ended the call and was about to go back inside when I changed my mind. Mom was in the kitchen now, pulling Bridget onto her lap and laughing about something shared between grandmothers and granddaughters. I scrolled through my contacts and hit my oldest sister’s number.
“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Iona sounded weary. “Listen, Flynn. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea Graham was even in the house, but he must’ve overheard us talking—”
“Heard who talking about what?” I was pissed, but I knew my sister would never do anything to hurt my daughter. Both Iona and Reenie had been great with Bridget. Which, of course, probably had only made Graham unhappier.
“Right after everything came out about Bridget, I was telling Mark the whole story. I mean, he knew it, mostly, but you know he’s a guy, and he’d forgotten you’d even dated Ali. Crazy, right? So I was trying to explain it to him, how Ali married Craig, and we all thought Bridget was his, and then about Craig leaving. Graham must’ve come inside without me hearing him. I never knew he’d been eavesdropping until the principal called today to say he’d been fighting. When I heard the whole story, I wanted to die. I’m so sorry. You know I love Bridget.”
“Yeah, I know.” I was silent for a few beats, trying to rein in my mad. “Did Graham say why he did it?”
She sighed, long and deep. “He’s a spoiled brat, Flynn. It’s not a nice thing to say about your own kid, but it’s the truth. And we’re trying to make it better, but eight years of only kid can’t be undone in a month.” She paused. “We were worried about this anyway, with the baby coming.”
“Baby? Iona, are you knocked up again?” Gladness filled me.
“Yeah, surprise, surprise. We never planned to space our kids out this far, but you know Mark’s been trying to build up his practice, and what with one thing and another.” She sniffled. “I wish I’d known to tell Daddy. Wouldn’t he’ve been thrilled?”
“You know it.” I thought about how much I hated that my dad had never known Bridget was his granddaughter. I didn’t want to do regret, but I could still be sad. “Iona, I’m not upset with you or Mark, but you got to make sure Graham understands that he can’t go around telling people I’m not Bridget’s father. He needs to know I’m her dad.”
“I just talked to him hard for twenty minutes, but I’ll talk some more when Mark gets home. And Graham’s grounded for two weeks, if that makes you feel any better.”
I laughed. “It doesn’t, but thanks. Talk to you later.” I ended the call and went back inside, where Mom and Bridget were still giggling over brownies. The sound of my daughter’s laughter had the miraculous power to release all the knots in my chest, and I slid into a chair to join them.
I’d only known about this kid’s existence for about a month, but I was ready to lay down every dream I’d ever had to make her happy. I’d do whatever it took.
For the rest of the evening, I didn’t bring up Graham or what he’d said. Bridget was having too good a time with my mom and then with Reenie when she got home. We all made dinner together, and my sister taught my daughter how to do the Twist when it came on the radio. I sat at the kitchen counter with a beer, breathing in the smell of my mother’s fried chicken and biscuits and watching Reenie and Bridge giggle and dance. For just a fraction of a breath, I felt my dad near me, his hand on my shoulder as he watched them with me. Then it was gone, and so was he. At the stove, my mother lifted her head to meet my eyes. She smiled a little and nodded.
Once Bridget was tucked into bed—Mom had given her Iona’s old room—I dropped down on my own bed and called Ali.
When she answered, her voice was soft and sleepy. “Hey, Flynn.”
Memories of a hundred different late night telephone calls with her pulled me back into the past. How many times had we whispered until long after midnight, talking about nothing but nonsense, neither of us willing to say goodnight even though we’d see each other next day? More than I could count. I wondered if Ali were remembering, too.
“Hey.” I whispered, too, even though my mom’s room was way down the hall, and I didn’t think she was going to come in and yell at me for being on the phone anymore.
“Did everything go okay tonight?”
“Yeah, it was fine. I talked to Iona. Apparently she and Mark were discussing what happened with . . . with Craig, and Graham overheard it. She was really sorry, and Graham’s being punished.” I stared up at my ceiling, looking at the same cracks in the plaster that I used to see when I was eighteen. “I didn’t talk to Bridge, though. She was having such a blast with Mom and Reenie, I just couldn’t ruin it.” I held my breath, half-expecting her to be pissed that I’d ducked the issue.
“That’s probably smart.” To my surprise, Ali didn’t sound upset. “Sometimes with kids, it’s knowing when to say something and when to leave it alone. Half the time, it all blows over without us making a fuss.” She yawned, and I heard a rustling.
“Are you in bed?” I asked the question before I thought better of it.
She laughed softly. “Yeah, I am. Sorry, this time of year, the days are long. I worked the stand from eight this morning until five, and then I weeded the vegetable garden at the house, and then I went out into the fields with Sam to plant tomatoes.”
“Whew.” I laced my fingers behind my head, cradling the phone on my shoulder. “I’m exhausted just hearing about it. Did I wake you up?”
“No. Not really. I was maybe dozing just a little.”
“Were you dreaming?” I couldn’t stop myself.
Ali didn’t answer right away. “No. I don’t dream anymore.”
I knew she was talking about more than just what happened when she slept.
“Really? I do.” I let my eyes drift shut. “I thought I didn’t, but since I’ve been back in Burton . . . it’s weird. Like my brain’s catching up on all those years.”
“I don’t think it works that way. We dream every night, even if we don’t remember. I read that somewhere.”
“Hmmm.” I lay there for a minute, just enjoying the peace. The quiet I was sharing with Ali. I could hear her soft breathing, and I wished with sudden gut-strong need that she were here with me. It rolled over my body like a truck, shocking the hell out of me.
“Hey, Ali. Do you still sleep in the same room you did in high school?”
“Um . . . yeah. Bridge slept in with me when she was a baby, and now she’s right next door, where Sam used to sleep. He took Mom and Dad’s room.”
“Ah.”
“Why did you ask?” Her tone was curious, but a little apprehensive, too.
“I wanted to picture where you are.” And when I did, I got hard, thinking about her room. Her bed. Ali and me together there, on nights when Sam had late meetings with the Guild. “Hey, Ali.”
“Yeah, Flynn?” There was something else in her voice now. Something cautious but yearning. I plunged ahead.
“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if I’d stayed? Or if you’d come with me?”
I nearly felt her sigh. “At first, I didn’t think about anything else. It was all that I could imagine. I wished a million times or more that I could change what we did. What we said.” Silence stretched between us until she spoke again. “But it hurt too much. After I knew Bridget was coming, I had to make a decision. I could keep wishing and crying and hurting, or I could put on my big girl pants and grow up. I had to do that for my baby.” She drew in a shuddering breath, and it killed me to think she might be crying again. “So I stopped thinking about what might have been. I stopped wishing, and I stopped dreaming.”
If I could’ve crawled through my phone and somehow ridden the cell waves or however it worked, I would’ve gathered her into my arm, pressed her head into my chest the same way I had in the days after her parents’ death. I couldn’t do that tonight.
“Ali, I want—”
“It’s late, Flynn.” She sounded sad but definite. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you this weekend.” There was soft click, and I was alone again in my room.
I tossed my phone to the other side of the bed and stretched my arms above my head. Damn. I was restless now. Horny, if I were honest with myself. It’d been a long time since I’d been with a woman, but this was more. It wasn’t just the need for any woman. I wanted the girl who’d just hung up on me.
“Dude, you are so fucked up.” I muttered the words, rubbing one hand over my eyes. I’d thought I could handle being back in Burton, and maybe I would’ve been okay, if I hadn’t ever laid eyes on Ali. But the minute I’d seen her, standing on my mom’s front porch with her sad and worried eyes, I was sinking back into the quicksand that was Ali Reynolds.
She’d always been my biggest weakness. I rolled to my side, staring through the blinds into the black velvet of night, but in my mind, I was sixteen again, parked in my old Chevette at the lake on the Nelsons’ farm, with Ali laying halfway over my lap as I kissed her senseless.
From the very beginning, we’d moved slowly when it came to our physical relationship. Not that I didn’t want her—God, did I. And in my dreams nearly every night, I did things to Ali that made it harder—no pun intended—to stop myself from pushing our boundaries.
We’d talked about it, because one thing Ali and I had going for us was complete openness. After I’d kissed her the first time on New Year’s Eve, she’d told me that she’d been afraid I’d never get around to it.
“I thought maybe . . . maybe you didn’t want to kiss me.” She’d glanced up at me through her eyelashes, her brown eyes unsure.
“I wanted to kiss you from that first day, when we covered the stupid sign dedication.” I traced one finger over the curve of her cheek, my heart skipping a beat when Ali closed her eyes and leaned her face into my palm. That small gesture of absolute trust made me fall in love with her a little more. I hadn’t thought it was possible.
“Then why did you wait?” She smiled, soft and dreamy.
“I wanted it to be special. And I wanted to make sure you knew that I like you for you, not just because I wanted . . .” My face went red. “You know.”
“That’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Ali slid her hand into mine. “It makes me feel . . . treasured.” She shook her head. “Does that sound hokey?”
“Nope. It sounds perfect.” I’d kissed her again, heady with the realization that I could do it any time I wanted. Well, within reason. We were careful around Ali’s parents and her brother, who always looked at me with narrowed eyes of suspicion. And we didn’t have a whole lot of alone time, other than moments stolen on her front porch when I dropped her off after dates. That was more than a little awkward, since we had to be driven by my sisters or my parents. We’d gotten adept at finding the shadowed spots on the porch, where we couldn’t be seen from the car.
But now, finally, I’d gotten my license, and even better, I’d inherited the ancient Chevette that had been Iona and Maureen’s first car. It wasn’t fancy or remotely cool, but it ran, and it meant freedom to drive out to the Reynolds’ farm whenever I wanted. And even better, freedom to drive out here on the old dirt road that connected Alex’s family farm with Ali’s, through the woods until we got to the edge of the small lake.
I pulled the keys out of the ignition and ratcheted my seat back as far as it would go, stretching my legs. Ali unclicked her seat belt and turned toward me, a smile of promise on her face.
She leaned over the gear shift and rested her forearms on my chest. “Hi.” The single whispered word shot straight to my crotch, making my jeans a lot tighter than they’d been a minute before. I felt the soft promise of her boobs teasing against my chest, and I swallowed hard.
Ali lowered her mouth to mine. I circled my arms around her waist, running my hands up and down her back as her lips angled, needing to get closer. I teased her with my tongue until she opened to me, giving me free access to sweep over her teeth, stroke the inside of her lips and tangle with her tongue. She slid her arms up, around my neck, so that the upper part of her body was pressed against me. I was pretty sure she had to be feeling my heart thudding.
“Ouch!” Ali jerked back, rubbing her hand over her hip. “Sorry. The parking brake poked me in the side.” She pushed back to sit in her own seat. “Don’t get me wrong, Flynn, I love that you have a car now, but I wouldn’t have minded something with a bench seat in the front.”
I laughed, shifting to hide the bulge between my legs. “They don’t make cars with bench seats anymore.” I turned to look behind us. “There’s always the backseat, I guess, but it feels a little cliché. And it’s not much bigger.” I picked up her hand from where it rested on her knee and kissed the inside of her wrist. I was still riled up and getting more desperate by the minute to touch her again. “I have a blanket in the trunk. I guess we could go sit out by the lake.”
Ali cocked her head. “You don’t sound like you want to do that.”
I laced my fingers into hers and squeezed, pressing our palms together. “Ali, don’t ever think I don’t want to touch you. God, right now, all I want is . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can’t even say it, because if I do, I’ll end up making it happen.”
“Why don’t you?” She smiled and raised our joined hands to her lips.
“I think . . .” This wasn’t going to be easy. Not when part of me—the part that was a distance south of my cerebral cortex—was screaming that I was an idiot. “I want you, Ali. I want to kiss you all the time. I want to touch you all over. I want to peel off all your clothes, and let you take off mine, and lay out there on the blanket, skin to skin, nothing between us but the night air.” God, I was a fool. “But I like you a lot. You’re more than just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend.” I reached across and tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “I want to make love to you.” Saying the words made it so real, the throbbing under my zipper became almost unbearable. “But I want us to be ready. Both of us. I want us to make the decision together, so we have no regrets. When we’re together, really together, I want it to be the best moment of our lives. Something we never forget. Something we think about for the rest of our lives.”
When I dared to look into Ali’s eyes, I was half-afraid I’d see incredulity and maybe even scorn. What I was saying wasn’t exactly popular philosophy among high school students. But instead, I saw the sheen of tears and the unmistakable glow of love.
I recognized that expression. I’d seen it in my mother’s eyes when she looked at my father, and in Iona’s when she talked about Mark. I’d known for a while it was how I looked at Ali. Love was more than just the girlfriend/boyfriend stuff that went on all around us at school. It was a big deal, life-changing and forever. It was Ali and me, together against the world for the rest of our lives.
That was exactly what I wanted. And why I was willing to wait for sex. Getting it right was more important than getting it right away.
“How did I ever get lucky enough to deserve you?” Ali laid her head on the back of the seat. “What do you see in me? I’m not special.”
“You’re the most special. Ali, you’re beautiful, and not just on the outside. You’re nice to people, you’re funny, and . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t describe it. I just know it.”
“I love you, Flynn.” She said it as though she couldn’t help it, as though the words surprised her as much as they did me. “I—I know that sounds weird, or maybe you’re not ready—”
“I love you, Ali.” I spoke before she could backtrack anymore. “I’ve loved you for a long time. It’s not weird. It just is.”
“When did you know?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure she’d want to hear this, to know the truth. But I’d promised to be honest and open with her always. “It was after your parents. After the accident.”
There was a brief flare of pain on her face, but she didn’t look away, so I went on. “You were hurting so much, and you were so sad. Crushed. I knew then that I never wanted to leave you. I wanted to do anything to make sure you never had to feel that way again, for the rest of your life. I never want to be away from you.” I sucked in a breath and for the first time, I spoke the words that would both define us and doom us. “I want you to come with me, Ali, when I leave Burton. This town, it’s just . . . too small. I’m getting out of here as soon as we graduate. I’m going to see the world. I’m going to travel as far as I can, for as long as I can. And I want you to come with me.”
For a moment, Ali didn’t move. She watched me, and I could tell she was digesting what I’d just said.
Finally, she pushed herself up, and crawling over the parking brake and gearshift with great care, she slung one leg over mine and settled her body on my lap. Instinctively I brought my hands to her hips, keeping her steady.
“Flynn, I’ll go with you anywhere. To the ends of the earth and back again. As long as we’re together, I won’t ever need anything but you.”
She kissed me with abandon, and I held her against me, knowing I’d never need anything or anyone but this girl in my arms.
A car backfired on the street outside my mom’s house, jerking me back to the present. Had I dozed off? I wasn’t sure. What had happened a decade ago sometimes felt more like a dream than reality.
I sat up and pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. It was late, and I knew I had to be up early to take Bridget to school. But talking to Ali had given me a hell of a hard-on, and remembering us together in the past hadn’t helped that condition. I stood up and grabbed my towel from the hook behind my door.
“Cold showers. And I thought I was beyond this shit.” I slung the towel over my shoulder and headed down the hall to the bathroom, muttering to myself the whole time.