I squinted at the clock in Thatcher’s room. Two-twenty-nine. Thatcher’s muscular arm lay flung over his face in sleep. The bed sheet was rumpled between us, resting along his lower stomach displaying all of his dark curly hair that led from his penis to his chest. It was perfect. At least to me. A thin trail marked the way to his chest and nipples where it then spread out making me want to thread my fingers through the short hair.

I admired the tattoo on his forearm. Strong arms and thick fingers I’d dreamt about covering my body so many times, it was difficult to believe how far we’d come since then. I believed in him so much it hurt. Even though I told myself over and over not to allow my heart to get involved, it clearly had a mind of its own. Despite what I tried telling myself, the truth is that I’ve never stopped loving Thatcher – my heart has been his long before I got pregnant and married Adrian.

It hurt me to think he didn’t have more confidence in himself to be a father. It hurt to think he thought of himself any less – that he wasn’t worthy or good enough – when he was the best man I knew. He’d done hurt me like crazy when he left me back then. But I still loved him. Even all the times I told myself I couldn’t or that I shouldn’t. I still did. I still looked to him for strength and support; Lord knows I had no one else in my life to give that to me.

He wanted me. He cherished me and cared about my thoughts and ideas. He wanted to please me on a level that was all his own. Sexual, yes. But also, just because he wanted to see me happy. The way he would look at me and bat those extremely long lashes at me, how he’d made sure I was comfortable here, having Grace buy us clothes. Even today, just standing alongside me as we watched my workplace burn up, he never left my side.

I don’t care what he thought; he was good to Thayer. In this short amount of time, he’d been teaching Thayer so much. With us so used to having Adrian gone on business, it was nice to have another adult around to help. It was nice to have a man to talk to that flirted with me and made me feel special. It was especially nice for Thayer to have an adult male around the house that wasn’t our eighty-year-old neighbor. Being around the older crowd gave me so much pleasure, but it was no place for a young boy. He needed a young daddy to teach him all the things a boy his age should start learning.

Was our little conversation going to be enough to make him believe in himself? To make him want to try and be a parent, despite those ups and downs? I reached out and placed my hand on his lower belly, trailing that dark hair with my fingertips.

“Wake up,” I whispered.

“No,” he mumbled.

“I want to finish our book. I’ll read out loud while you listen this time.”

“How about we sleep?”

“I can’t sleep. We’re almost done any way. And tomorrow, how about I come to work with you? I don’t have anywhere to be now and I could be your assistant.”

That got his attention as my hand went lower. His arm snaked around my middle where he pulled me against him and started to nuzzle the skin beneath my ear.

“My assistant, huh? I’ve never had an assistant.”

“You will tomorrow if you let me finish this book right now.”

“You’re relentless, Abby. Fine.” He fumbled on the night stand and handed the book across the bed to me. “I thought you said I could tie you up.”

“I did. I said when you get a gray tie like this,” I pointed to the book cover, “you could tie me up. Have you gotten one?”

“I’ll have one here tomorrow.”

He pulled our pillows up and maneuvered me toward him so I was leaning into his chest. With his steady heartbeat against my back, I read our book. Once I’d finally finished, I turned the lamp off and got comfortable in the bed where we moved around until I was cocooned into his arms.

“It was pretty good. I’ll be sure to get the other two when I get the tie tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it, Thatcher.”

When I awoke the next morning, I was alone in bed. I hoped this was the beginning of a brand-new day for Thatcher and I. Whatever it took, I had to get him to see reason as far as being a good father was concerned.

And I was going to work with him. I was excited about that. Following the smell of coffee, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup and seeing how Thatcher’s phone was where I left it the night before when I called Mama, I picked it up and used it again.

“Mama? How’s Thayer?”

“He’s fine. Don’t ya think I know how to take care of my grandson?”

“Yes, of course. I just wanted to check on him since it was last-minute that I asked you to come pick him up.”

“How’s everything going with that man?”

“Fine. I think. With the setback yesterday, we talked and I think I may have talked sense into him.”

“You’ve fallen for him all over again, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Mama. I have. I understand now what you’ve been meaning about never letting him go. I never did, you know? I’m scared though. I’m scared he won’t stick around for the long haul. Especially if yesterday was any indication.”

“He loves you guys. He’ll do the right thing, Abigail.”

“I sure hope. Look Mama, I have to hang up. Someone else is calling.” I quickly pressed the right button to switch the call to the new caller.

“Hello?”

“Abby? It’s Miranda. They caught the person whose been starting all the fires around town.”

“What? When? Who was it?”

“You’re not going to believe this. It was Grant Hoffner.”

“Grant Hoffner? Do I know him?” I searched my memory for a guy by that name. Nothing came to mind.

“Yeah, at least you know of him. He’s a firefighter. He’s been the first guy at every single fire lately. He was the first at yours.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“I’m dead fucking serious. The Lone Star police arrested him early this morning.”

“Why would a firefighter start all these fires? I don’t understand.”

“To be a celebrity. Why else? I’ve spent the last two hours researching all of this from home. It’s a classic case of wanting to be a celebrity. A hero. Start a fire, be the first on the scene to save the day. Prove to everyone that he is a hero. A good firefighter.”

“I’m shocked, Miranda.”

“I know, me too.”

“That’s why no one, thankfully, has ever been hurt. Because he never wanted to hurt anyone. He wanted the claim to fame. Which is why he burned the newspaper. The two house fires didn’t give him any accolades, but when he was first on the scene at the newspaper, the fire marshal was quick to let everyone know it was Grant.”

“What about those other fires?”

“Grant wasn’t around then. So those are still being labeled as accidental. These kinds of fires, where the firefighter commits them, come from newer firemen or women. They want people to take notice of them. Of how good of a job they are doing – can do. When he was the first on the scene at your place and at that other house, no one took notice. Which is why he burnt the newspaper down.”

“Why me though? Why my house?”

“Can’t say. I personally don’t think he knew who owned the house. I think it was a matter of convenience. Right place, right time kind of thing.”

“Either way, glad the guy has been arrested. Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. I’ll let you know if I hear any more.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

It was so scary to think about the men out there hired to protect you and to find out they were the ones causing the problems. My mind always went to the what ifs and I couldn’t help the thought of what if Thayer and I were inside when that fire broke out? It was pure luck we hadn’t been home at the time.

I still wasn’t sure who the guy was but I was happy he got arrested. Thatcher came through the front door, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and tennis shoes. He held a wadded-up t-shirt in his hand and his body glistened with sweat. I swear it should be illegal that he walks around like that. He put the t-shirt up to his forehead and wiped away some sweat and…how I could I be so turned on by the way he looked all sweaty?

“I hope you don’t mind I used your phone to call my mama and Miranda called. They found the arsonist. They arrested him.”

“Anyone I know?”

“It was a firefighter.”

“What?”

“Yep. A firefighter. His name is Grant somebody.”

“Grant Hoffner. He was at your house fire. Remember, the one who handed us the turtle? His mom works at the gas station across from the feed store. What the hell was he doing that for?”

“Okay, I couldn’t place a name to a face. Wow. He seemed so sincere. He did it for recognition. He wanted to be a hero, I guess.”

“Aren’t all firefighters’ heroes?”

“I know, right? Apparently not to him. He wanted more recognition. He wanted to be the best on the squad.”

“Fucking stupid if you ask me. Guy had a good gig.”

He trudged over to the kitchen sink and the raw smell of him hit my nostrils causing my lady parts to clench in unexpected desire. Dang pheromones. He bent down to gulp water straight out of the faucet, his muscles rippled and flexed and I was enamored that this same man had his hands all over me last night.

“What you are thinking about Abigail?”

“That you stink. You should really go take a shower.”

“If I stink why are you giving me that look?”

“What look?” I asked as he stepped closer to me.

“That sexy look you get on your face every time I make you come. The pulse in your neck is fluttering. You are definitely turned on. Come on. Follow me.”

He pulled my hand and before I knew it, we were in his shower together and he was soaping my body. He took great care in using the sponge to wash my legs, up my thighs, and over the fading bite marks he’d left a few days ago. He smoothed it over my tummy and trailed the sponge slow across my breasts, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles as he went.

He pulled the shower head from the wall and washed all the soap from my body. It was this moment that I fell in love with him all over again. When he gripped my wrists, and placed my hands against the tile and used the shower head to spray the soap away from my neck and back, it was then that my heart gave away all the insecurities I felt about trusting him. When he replaced the shower head and nudged my legs apart going down on his knees, I knew I was a goner. That whatever the future held for us, I was diving in head-first and all I could hope for was that Thatcher wouldn’t disappoint me this time. That he would recognize his own strength and be the man I knew was in his heart.

His fingers trailed along the folds between my legs and I gasped as his fingers entered me.

I bucked in to him as he drove his fingers into me with a maddening pressure. He bit the sensitive skin on my butt cheek and I screamed in surprise. Possibly, had he not been making me die with pleasure, I would have smacked him for that stunt. His other hand came around and flicked my quivering bead over and over like some magician.

“Turn around.” I cried out as he withdrew his fingers and turned me around. The water fell over us, along my breasts and over his shoulders and much of his face.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. I was so close. My sex clenched in need, trying to find a way to overcome the loss of pressure.

“I’m not. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Then his lips were on me there. His fingers penetrated me once again. My hands fondled my breasts as I rolled each nipple between my thumb and forefinger. His tongue flicked the hard pleasure point between all the wetness and I gasped, convulsing into a chain of spasms around him.

I ached. I was spent. My knees felt like jelly but his relentless mouth kept licking and sucking and biting my clitoris. He was an expert at this and who was I to give up? My breasts throbbed as he worked me over. He was skilled at this, pulling my lips apart and using his teeth to bite that hard bud and sucking it into his mouth. The second he did that, I came, pulling his head into me. Goodness, probably suffocating him. Or drowning him.

“Here. Let me wash your hair.”

With shaky hands and wobbly legs, I handed him his two-in-one hair wash, the same as I used in his upstairs bathroom, and he lathered my hair. I couldn’t speak over the lump in my throat, afraid that I would cry instead.

This was all too perfect.

I couldn’t fight the nagging sensation deep inside my heart that his attention and all this perfection was a mirage. Was it possible that we’ve finally made it to a place for us to be together? Was it time?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Thatcher’s deep voice vibrated against my ear.

I let loose crying and throwing myself into his arms. “I don’t want this to end, Thatcher. It hurt too much last time. You hurt me too much.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

“But what about everything else? What about Thayer? What happens if he does something wrong, gets in trouble at school or something and he needs discipline, are you going to be able to do it? Or are you going to run for the hills?”

“I told you I would try, Abby. It’s the best I can do. You have my word that I will try.”

Those words were a balm against my skin. His word. He was finally giving me his word. Not Adrian, not his dad or his mom. Not Thayer. Me. He was giving me his word that he would try. Did he love me? I didn’t know. But he was giving me his word and that was one of the things I’ve been wanting from him so it was enough.

The next few days were much of the same. I went to work with Thatcher, sometimes I would borrow his truck and go out to see my mom, otherwise, I stayed with him and helped with whatever he needed. I got the insurance check for my house and Thatcher took Thayer and I shopping where I’d promptly bought a new cell phone and Thatcher promised me he’d help me find a car this coming weekend.

I went to work with him during the day and at night, we spent time with our son. He’d had his guard up now, Thatcher did, every time Thayer was around and not in school. Thatcher took great care in making sure he counted to ten before he went off the deep end. Which was all his doing as I saw no reason for him to change. He was a parent for goodness sake! I’d told him and told him until I was blue in the face but Thatcher had something to prove and I had nothing to do with it.

“Your dad is here.” I said to Thatcher in a panic Friday morning as we sat inside his feed store. The boys hadn’t been coming around the last few days because I was there. I felt bad I was encroaching on their rituals of peanut cracking and all, but Thatcher insisted he preferred my company over their’s.

“I asked him to come.”

“Why? You never want him around.”

“I wanted to tell him about Thayer. It’s time the cat is let out of the bag, don’t you think?”

This was unexpected. Okay, not entirely. I don’t know why it was throwing me in a tizzy. What did I care if everyone knew Thatcher was Thayer’s son? Half the town probably already guessed it what with the way they looked so similar.

He pushed his stool back and went outside to meet his dad and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his way of showing me how serious he was at being a father to Thayer. Of being a parent and not being worried about inheriting some trait where he thought he’d harm his kid like his daddy did to him.

By telling his father, he was taking a giant step of ownership.

I was proud of him. I was excited for us and what the future would hold.

I kept my eye on the men, trying to gauge his father’s reaction when his dad finally jumped back into his shiny pickup truck and tore out of the parking lot. I couldn’t decipher if it had been a good conversation or a bad one. But I was opting for bad.

“What happened?” I asked, quick as Thatcher walked back inside.

“Nothing. Same as usual. I told him about Thayer. He blamed me for blaming him for my fuck-ups. He berated me for telling him about his grandson five years too late. A grandson, I vowed, he would never see.”

“Thatcher. Things may change between the two of you someday.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, I hope they do. It’d be nice for Thayer to meet the rest of his grandparents.”

“We’ll see. Is the plan still on tonight to tell him about me? About us?”

I smiled, “Yeah, I think he needs to know you are his real father. It will most likely confuse the heck out of him but it’s time.”

“Good.”

Thatcher stood before me and wrapped my legs around his. His soft lips found mine and he brushed a kiss across them.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For giving me a second chance. For believing in me.”

The bell chimed above the door and he pulled away from me as I stood. The mayor, Richard Stevens, came in wearing golf clothes and carrying a sheet of paper.

“Good morning!” the mayor greeted us.

“Good morning,” we said in unison.

“What can I help you with?” Thatcher asked and I started busying myself rearranging Thatcher’s desk.

“Oh, I have a list here.”

Thatcher’s laughter floated around me as I stared at the document in my hand. It was a sheaf of papers, but he’d had it folded open over the staple so I could only see the single page. A section of the paper had been highlighted with a yellow highlighter and I started reading the document.

For Thatcher A. Patterson to receive the four-hundred and fifty thousand dollars that has been apportioned to him, my grandson must show proper documentation of having custody of his own heir. E.g., a child of his own, my great-grandson. In the event, eight months have passed beginning on the day of my death, and no heir has been proven, Thatcher A. Patterson will be ineligible to receive any and all monies that have been appropriated for this purpose. That money will then be donated to a local charity(-ies). See attached Exhibit C for a list of those charities.

Please tell me this didn’t mean what I thought it was meaning. Tingles spread throughout my nose warning me of oncoming tears. No. This couldn’t be right. Thatcher wanted us. He wanted me. He wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t pretend he wanted us for the purpose of using Thayer. No. He wasn’t that kind of man.

It hit me then about the Deer Creek store and how it was in obvious turmoil. But he’s closed it. Was that simply because he couldn’t get the money in time? Wait. Was he planning to take my child from me?

I whirled around, clutching the documents in my hands. My blood beat so thick inside my head, the mayor and his conversation sounded as if I were under water and they were talking above me.

Everything was in slow motion as the mayor smiled on his way out. I hardly registered the concerned look on his face before Thatcher turned around and looked at me.

“Abby? Are you okay? Why don’t you sit down, you don’t look so good.”

“What the hell is this?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

“What?” he plucked the paper out of my hands. “Abby, you have to listen to me, okay? Before you get upset, I- “

“Before I get upset? What is this? Are you trying to take Thayer away from me?”

“No. I would never do that,” he looked at me as if I were crazy.

“What are you trying to do then? All of this was just a lie? How could you do this to me? Again?”

“I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.”

But I wasn’t listening to him anymore. My heart came to a stop. All of the feelings I’d been having over the three of us being together, ended. I was suddenly so sick of it all. Sick of trying to convince him he was a good man, sick of wishing he wanted me, sick of hoping he would ask us to stay with him, sick of trying to get him to see what a great father he was.

“Shut up, Thatcher! You lied to me! You lied to us. This whole fucking time, you’ve been lying!” I screamed. “I hate you!”

“You don’t mean that, Abigail.”

“I mean it. I hate you. I hate myself for falling in love with you again when all of this was a scheme for you to get my son!”

“No-”

“Don’t touch me, you bastard!” I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath, backing away from him. “Stay away from me. You are a liar. A liar. Oh, my gosh, the joke is on me, isn’t it? I’ve been trying so hard to get you to see what a great dad you are and you must have been laughing your ass off at the irony of it all. I can’t believe I let you touch me. I can’t believe I let you tie me up with the stupid fucking tie last night!” I yelled.

“Abby, calm down. Someone is going to call the police-”

“I am not calming down. Actually,” I took another deep breath. Then two more. “I’m calm. I’m done here. You should be so fucking proud of yourself, Thatcher. You’ve managed to ruin us once and for all.”