I was expecting the morning to be awkward, but it wasn’t. It felt good. It felt right, and stupidly, I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to see her every day, her belly growing round and full beside me.
It was probably just as well that it wasn’t my child inside her—my gene pool was so seriously fucked up that extinction was definitely the best option.
I hoped the kid turned out like her and not the dickwad father who obviously didn’t know when he had a good thing.
Fathers. Fatherhood. I’d been thinking about that a lot lately: what made a good father, how to be a good father. I thought about the qualities that a man should have: patience—definitely, kindness, tolerance, discipline, a hard worker, someone who could support his family and set a good example, maybe even someone who didn’t care if his kid wasn’t like him—I thought that was important, as well. He should be loyal and a protector. And he should love his kids and let them know that they were loved—because how many people didn’t show love, even when they felt it? You could say I was in that category. Life, experience, both had taught me to lock emotions away. But I was trying . . . I was trying for Sara because I could tell that she needed to know that I cared. I’d tried to hide what I’d been feeling—obviously I’d done a lousy job of it. But I’d also left her confused about what I did think, and the gray matter that made up my brain had finally caught up to the fact that she needed something . . . someone that she could depend on.
My dad had been a good man, a good father, and I might have been a good man, too, if he’d lived. My brother, he was one of the best, and I knew he’d make a fantastic father one day. When Kes told us that he and Aimee had made a baby, I was surprised because it turned out that I really liked the idea of being an uncle—yeah, I reckon I could nail down that role. Kes was like a brother to me. Family.
Which was a reminder that I’d have to go eat humble pie, apologize to Aimee and hope that Kes had gotten over wanting to kick my ass to Boise and back.
He’d definitely been unlucky himself on the father front, although Tera seemed to have mixed feelings about their shared parentage. At least Kes’s father had tried to do the right thing eventually, even if it was 26 years too late.
As for Tucker, like me and Dan, his father had also died young, and he’d been brought up—if you could use that term—by a drunk for a mother and a stepfather who’d whaled on him every day until he was big enough to fight back. I think that was the reason he tried so hard to be happy—he’d already had enough misery to last a lifetime.
I told Sara that I’d take care of her and I intended to keep that promise, even when she didn’t need me anymore. I couldn’t help believing that one day she’d stop running; one day she’d go back to her family. Until that day, I’d do everything I could for her.
And if she needed a father for her kid, I’d be first in line.
The thought wasn’t uncomfortable—it was what a real man would do. I’d paid penance for my past mistakes—now I had a chance to make amends, to help someone who needed it.
Although it occurred to me much later that perhaps I should have shared my decision with her. Maybe even had a discussion. But I was only thinking about what she needed and what I had to do for her, not whether she’d want what I had to offer. I guess you could say I was dumb like that.
As I lay unmoving, thin fingers of sunlight had crept through a gap in the curtains, turning Sara’s pale blonde hair to gold. At rest, she looked so young, so very young.
Ripples of self-loathing rose up my throat. Too young.
I pushed them away, but my body must have tensed because her eyelids fluttered and she yawned widely.
“Oh my God, that was the best night’s sleep in forever,” she said, a sleepy smile on her face as she stroked my chest, her eyes still closed. “You’re all warm and cuddly. Not cuddly because your muscles are too hard, just nice, you know? Sort of cuddly though, maybe even a bit furry. I really like your beard—it’s softer than I thought it would be. I thought it would be prickly but it’s not. It’s soft, well, not as soft as Bo’s but really nice. Did I say nice again?”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“Are you always this chatty first thing in the morning?”
“I guess so, yeah. Does it bother you?”
It should have, but it didn’t.
“Nope, chat away.”
“Your tattoos are amazing, really beautifully done. Some tattoos are just gross, or blurry and ugly, like someone just got shot with a splatter gun and they didn’t even think about how they’d all look together. Some are really bad and some are just nasty, but yours are kind of beautiful. I didn’t think colored tattoos would look that good, but they really do. You’ll have to tell me what they all mean. Oh, and this one on your ribs—is that Latin? What does it say?”
There were too many comments and questions in that one breath for me to answer, so I just focused on the last one.
“Yeah, it’s Latin, by the writer Juvenal. He lived around 100AD.”
“I’ve never heard of him. What does it say?”
“Panem et circenses. Bread and circuses,” I translated.
She wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t get it.”
“He was saying that people only care about eating and being entertained. He was being sarcastic, but I think he probably got it right.”
“Oh right, I get it now. We all need to eat, but we want to have fun, too, because the world can be shitty and serious, and sometimes you just need to think about something else.”
She definitely got it. She was also the first girl who’d asked me who didn’t think it was weird.
She giggled, then her hand drifted lower, brushing against my hard dick.
“Oh!”
She opened her eyes and looked up at me uncertainly.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said casually. “It’s been like that for the last three weeks. It will go away if I ignore it.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No,” I lied.
“Because my boyf—someone told me once that if a guy gets like that and doesn’t get laid, it’s really bad for him.”
Her naivety was another reminder of her age, and my good mood started to slide.
“Whoever told you that is full of shit,” I said tiredly. “I’ll survive.” Just like I have since I met you.
“Maybe you don’t have to,” she whispered, her fingers touching me once more, less tentatively. “Maybe I could, um, relieve the pressure?”
If she touches me like that again, I’ll lose the power of speech.
“I’m fi—”
Her grip was firmer this time and my words cut off as I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes and raising my arms above my head, surrendering, giving her as much access as she wanted.
I nearly leapt off the bed when I felt her full pink mouth wrap around the crown and her soft tongue lick me from root to tip.
She glanced up, her eyes dancing with mischief as my mouth dropped open helplessly. I hissed when her teeth grazed my cock and her hot little mouth turned my dick from angry red to a painful pulsing purple.
Nearly three months’ abstinence and three weeks of dreaming about this woman left me with no control whatsoever.
I started thrusting into her mouth. She coughed a little but didn’t stop.
“I can’t . . . I’m gonna . . .”
She whipped her head backwards so fast, I thought she’d bitten my dick off, but when her hand wrapped around my shaft to finish me off, I thanked God, Jehovah and all the angels in heaven and on earth.
She gave a cute little laugh as I squinted one eye open, my breathing still rapid. Then she ran her finger through the cum on my stomach and sucked it into her mouth.
“That’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll swallow next time.”
Then she blew me a kiss, climbed off the bed and danced out of the room wearing a towel.
I lay there, wondering if I was dead or alive, until Tucker banged on the door and reminded me that we had maintenance work to do and to get my sorry ass out of bed before Aimee fed my breakfast to the birds.
I knew that last bit was a lie—Bo would eat up any food before the birds had a chance at it. Little dude seemed to eat more than a grown man.
Sara was in the shower for ages and I knew that I’d have to remind her that was a big no-no when all of us were living in the RV, and because it was a pain having to refill the water tank too often.
But when she walked into the room, pink from the heat and smelling like spring flowers, the words dried on my tongue. I already had a semi so I yanked my jeans from a pile of clothes on the floor and bare-assed it to the bathroom at the double.
After I’d showered, I waited for Sara to dress and held her hand as we walked outside where everyone was sitting under the Coffeeberry tree. She tried to tug free but I wouldn’t let her go.
Aimee was sitting on Kes’s lap, one hand idly running her fingers through his hair. Zach and Luke were poring over some paperwork, Tucker was shoveling up pancakes, and Ollo was feeding blueberries to Bo.
They all looked up when they heard us and I saw the second that Aimee noticed our linked hands. A strange combination of emotions swept across her face, ending in a smile.
I cleared my throat and met her gaze.
“Aimee, I owe you an apology. I was a dick last night and I’m sorry.”
She looked surprised as hell and I tried to remember if I’d ever apologized to her before. Maybe once.
“Wow, um, thank you, Zef. I’m sorry, too. I was out of line. I’d blame it on hormones but we all know I’m always like that. So . . . I’m sorry, too.”
Tucker started laughing.
“Damn, the world is ending and no one told me: two miracles in one day. Oh Lord, at least give us another thirty-six hours so I can get to my woman and show her some lovin’.”
Aimee threw a spoon at him and I cuffed him around the head as I walked past.
Then Bo scampered up onto the table, stole two blueberries from Tucker’s plate and tried to feed them to him.
“Thanks, bro,” Tucker laughed, blueberry juice dribbling down his chin.
We sat in our folding chairs, ate breakfast under a perfect blue sky, sheltered from the California heat by the shade of the towering tree. And we were surrounded by friends who were family. It was pretty damn perfect.
Sara
It was awful.
I was surrounded by these amazing, caring people, holding hands with Zef who looked at me as if I hung the moon and the stars and outshone the sun. I’d seen little chinks of light from the dark, somber man that I’d met, but once I’d broken through his impressive walls, he blazed with his own light, his own heat, and the incredible warmth of his kindness.
And in front of his closest friends, he wanted to hold my hand.
I felt sick and ashamed.
Zef
I spent the morning working with the guys on some maintenance of the bikes and equipment, watching out of the corner of my eye as Aimee and Sara chatted together doing chores, and then Aimee announced that they were going into town to pick up some groceries.
I volunteered to go with them, but Aimee waved a hand at me.
“Nope, we’re having girl time. We’ll see you later.”
Sara wouldn’t meet my eyes and I didn’t like that. Maybe she didn’t like that I’d held her hand in front of everyone, which was confusing. I thought girls liked that romantic shit, and I have to say, I’d enjoyed doing it.
They climbed into Zach’s truck, and I watched it bouncing down the road as Aimee wrestled with the ancient stick shift. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy as my eyes met Kes’s worried gaze.
“For fuck’s sake chill!” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. “It’s Arcata, not downtown LA. They’ll be fine and if they need us, they both have cell phones. Y’all will drive them crazy if you keep hovering.”
He was probably right, but I’d never feed his ego by admitting that.
Kes frowned and shook his head.
“I know, but it feels different now. That’s my kid she’s carrying.”
I understood how he felt. Sort of.
I breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived back carrying several sacks of groceries but even more bags full of clothes. I wondered if Sara had bought anything cute, and then I wanted to pound my head against a wall for thinking dumb shit like that. Besides, she’d probably bought a ton of maternity clothes—all those dresses that looked like tents. Whatever, she’d still be hot.
In the cooler air of the evening, we packed our tools away and rolled the bikes back onto the rig. The water tanks had been refilled from Kes and Aimee’s cabin, and we were ready to roll in the morning.
Zach and Luke had made a list of everything that needed to be finished off in their cabin and had decided to invite us all to a house-warming on New Year’s Eve.
We’d all said yes, even Sara, but I wondered if she’d still be with us by then. I could only hope. And then I asked myself how my mind had been spun so quickly by this woman. Nope, I had no clue how or when it had happened—just that it had.
My knee was feeling stiff from all of the sitting around, but at least not so painful anymore. Another few days and I’d take off the brace during the day as well as at night.
I decided to look over the plot I’d chosen to build my own cabin, and I wanted Sara to come with me.
I found her under the Coffeeberry tree with Bo sitting on her lap.
“Walk with me?”
She looked up and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Are you sure you should be doing so much walking?”
My beard hid a small smile.
“Yup.”
She cocked her head on one side.
“You know, words are on sale this week. You could probably afford a whole sentence now and then.”
At least she was talking to me again. I didn’t reply and just stood there with one crutch under my arm and held out my other hand to her.
She stared back, not moving, and I lowered my hand.
“There’s something that I’d like to show you. Please?”
She grinned and stood up, swinging Bo onto her back as if she’d been doing it her whole life.
“See? It’s working already! And you get a dime off for making it a question and not an order.”
Who knew I was such a sucker for a girl with a sassy mouth?
She followed me as I limped further away from the cabin. I could hear her behind me, talking quietly to Bo, but I didn’t turn around. I just kept on walking.
Finally, I stopped on a low rise that had amazing views of the ocean, but was sheltered on one side by a clump of small desert fig trees.
I lowered myself to the ground and Sara sat next to me, a few inches from my shoulder as I tossed the crutches to one side.
“Wow! The view is incredible. Kes and Aimee are so lucky.”
“You really like it?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
I didn’t answer that, wondering if I was doing the right thing.
“I’d never even seen the Pacific before until last night.”
We sat in silence, staring out at the slate-blue breakers crashing onto the coarse yellow sand.
“This is where I’m going to build my cabin—our cabin, if you want it.”
I said the words without looking at her, but watched her out of the corner of my eye as she turned to stare at me, her gaze apprehensive.
“What do you mean?”
“Kes and Aimee bought this land for all of us, originally for winter quarters. This is my plot.”
“I know that . . .”
“I’d planned to come here as soon as we finish after Thanksgiving to help Luke and Zach finish their cabin, but to start on my place as well. I can get the foundation dug and concrete poured by January, maybe even get a couple of walls up if Tucker gets off his ass and comes to help. It should be finished by the Spring . . .”
“Zef, that’s great. I’m really happy for you. But why are you telling me all this?”
I sighed.
“It won’t be ready by the time the baby comes, but he could celebrate his first birthday here. What do you think?”
Sara sat with her mouth open. It took several attempts before she could speak.
“Zef, I don’t know . . . I don’t think so . . .”
I looked down, the weight of disappointment a heavy load. Maybe I was pushing her too fast.
“It’s . . . it’s a lot to take in,” she whispered nervously.
I could feel her closing down, backing away.
“Sara, you’ll need somewhere for you and the baby. I don’t have anywhere yet, but I will. I want to help you.”
My words were gentle but it was obviously still too much.
“I don’t even know where I’ll be in six months.”
Her eyes skittered across the dunes, throwing nervous glances at me. Bo bared his teeth, chattering loudly as he picked up on her tension. Then he scampered away, and Sara pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head, staring away from me, her shoulders hunched.
The woman I’d had in my bed was gone, and instead it was the scared kid again, trying to hide.
But she couldn’t hide, no matter how unwilling she was to take on the responsibilities of a mother-to-be. She had no clue how hard it could be out there.
“You need somewhere,” I pointed out.
Her eyes narrowed, snapping with irritation as she turned to me at last.
“I’m not a charity case. I can figure this out by myself. I don’t need you or anyone else to ride in and save me!”
My mouth dropped open in surprise and then anger overtook me.
“Yeah? Because you’re doing such a bang-up job so far.”
Her shitty attitude was pissing me the hell off.
“Fuck you, Zef! You’re not the boss of me.”
“Well, someone needs to be! You’re a mess!”
The tears came quickly and I was furious with myself, angry at her, raging at everything and nothing. It wasn’t like I’d been so together when I was eighteen. But I was supposed to be the mature one in this . . . whatever it was.
“Fuck it! I’m sorry, okay? It’ll be whatever you want, Sara. This is your home for as long as you need it—the cabin, the RV. I’m trying to help but I know I’m fucking up.”
I wanted to hold her but she turned away from me, and when I touched her shoulder, she cringed.
Then her phone rang and her whole body froze, like a deer startled in the forest, suddenly realizing that branch she’s looking at is really the barrel of a .30 caliber rifle.
With shaking hands, she pulled it from her pocket, her lips white and trembling.
“Sara?”
Nothing.
She stared at it as it continued to ring, loud and ugly as the setting sun raced toward the ocean.
“Are you going to get that?”
She licked her lips, her eyes darting to mine then away again.
I grabbed the phone from her and she gave a small scream.
The caller’s ID simply said, Him.
Despite Sara’s flailing hands clawing at me, I pressed ‘answer’.
“So you’re finally answering your damn phone! Where the hell are you?”
It was a man’s voice, deep, with a slight western twang. Definitely not a kid’s voice.
“Sara’s busy. I’ll take a message for her.”
There was a long pause followed by a string of swearing so loud that I held the phone from my ear.
Sara snatched it back, her face red with anger, then she hissed into the microphone.
“It’s me.”
“Who the hell was that? Who answered your phone?”
I could hear his furious voice as she strode away from me.
“No one. He’s no one.”
And hearing her say the words, that’s exactly how I felt.