Thatcher and I had forgotten it was Sunday what with the fire and all. We weren’t able to stop at the store after all. I kept telling myself I needed to be strong for Thayer but when I peeked out the corner of my eye at Thatcher while he drove us home, I wanted to cuddle up in his arms and cry. All our things, my things, up in smoke. Just like my divorce. It wasn’t as if I owned anything fancy or expensive. Well, no that’s not right. Adrian had bought me a fancy purse he’d gotten for me one year on one of his business trips awhile back but I’d never used it because it was too…too stiff. So, there was that. But everything else, Thayer’s baby pictures, pictures of us as a family, my books had all been ruined – not expensive but valuable nonetheless. Even all of my cow decorations in my kitchen which I’d never thought I would miss, was ruining me. It was not an udder day in paradise.

“You going to be okay?” Thatcher asked as he pulled his truck into his driveway. His house was about a mile out of Lone Star. Endless trees dotted his front yard and around the back of his house. I knew he owned some land surrounding it but I wasn’t clear how much. Made up of all grey brick and white trim, I’d seen it before but seeing it now, with Thayer buckled in the back seat, it felt a lot like we were seeing if for the first time as a family. I guess we were. I sighed. I had to stop having these silly little thoughts because nothing was ever going to happen with Thatcher and I. He made his bed a long time ago. I couldn’t trust the man with my heart, with my son’s heart, because I didn’t know what or where the root of his problem with us laid.

“Yeah, I’m going to be okay,” I lied. “Just an udder day in paradise.”

Since we had absolutely nothing with us except for the turtle some firefighter managed to find on the back porch, we gathered up the bin and made our way out of the truck. His house was mostly the same as I remembered. We entered through the garage where a green four-wheeler was parked.

“Is that yours?”

Thatcher cracked that heartbreakingly handsome smile of his as he glanced at my son. “Sure is. You ever been on one before?”

Thayer shook his head and Thatcher glanced at me. “Maybe, if your mom says it’s okay, I can take you for a ride on it.”

“Mama too?”

“If your mama wants.” Once again those trembles quaked through me.

“Yeah!” Thayer started doing a little dance with his arms flying all around his head and I laughed. Gosh, that was Thayer though. Able to make me smile at the worst of times.

“Alright, come on in y’all.”

Just then Thatcher’s phone rang and I realized I didn’t have my phone. Or my wallet, my ID, I’d left everything at the house when Thayer and I walked down the street to the park. My vision started to blur and I blinked back tears.

“Thatcher.”

When Thatcher nudged my arm and mouthed that it was my mother, I instantly felt terrible for not thinking about calling her before when my house was going up in flames. He handed me the phone and I put it to my ear.

“Hi Mama. You heard about the fire?”

“Is everyone okay, Abigail? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sorry. I forgot. Everything happened so fast and then Thatcher showed up and once I spoke to Adrian, we just left and came home with Thatcher. And before I forget, do you think you could take Mr. Hansen a Key Lime Pie tomorrow? He’s having hip surgery today and I promised I would bring one over.”

“Of course, Abby. Any other older folks you’re making friends with – promising food to that I need to look after?”

“No. Just Mr. Hansen. Since I don’t have a car, I didn’t want to have to rely on Thatcher.”

“So he knows about the divorce then?” she asked with a slight smugness to her voice.

I surreptitiously glanced toward Thatcher, worried he might be able to hear Mama’s voice over the phone. When his stormy blue eyes didn’t so much as flicker from having heard her, I tried my best to act normal.

“No. Not yet. Soon though. Adrian wants us to stay here. He reminded me about your renovations.”

“So you and Thayer will be staying with Thatcher indefinitely?”

Indefinitely? My eyes clashed with his, roaming over his straight nose and perfectly trimmed facial hair, his cupid’s bow lips and once my gaze drifted to his tanned neck I forced myself to stop because there was only so much my insides could take before I melted into a puddle.

“For now, Mama. I’ll let you know when things change.”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me that you will keep an open mind.”

“Open mind about what?”

“Everything.”

She hung up and I wasn’t sure what she meant by that comment but I couldn’t ignore my inner voice telling me that I knew exactly what she meant and who exactly she was referring to, blue eyes be damned. I handed Thatcher his phone, making sure I didn’t touch him in the process.

“I feel bad I didn’t think to call her.”

“I should’ve thought about it, too. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she is. Good as can be.”

“Shall we?” he spread his arm out gesturing toward the garage door that led into the house.

Thatcher held the door open for us and as I brushed past him, the hairs on my arms stood tall, sending funny little shivers down my back that didn’t seem to stop until they reached my toes. I didn’t dare glance it him. I could already feel his intent gaze on me and I just couldn’t look, so help me God.

Bypassing the mudroom where a utility sink and washer and dryer were, we went through another door that led us into the kitchen. Unlike my black and white kitchen, well what was my black and white cow-themed kitchen, Thatcher’s kitchen wasn’t themed or even decorated as I looked around. Black appliances worked well with the forest green window coverings he had hung above the window over his sink. His kitchen was much larger than mine with a center island and an entire counter that had three bar stools pulled up to it. All of his cabinet space was to die for.

“Here’s the kitchen and the dining area.”

On the other side of the bar stools sat a small, four-person table and beyond that was his living room and his bedroom that I had never been brave enough to look in. I just knew where it was from having come with Adrian to a party or two Thatcher had invited us over for.

“Obviously, the living room-”

“Whoa. Your T.V. is so big.”

“It’s got to be big.” Thatcher’s intent gaze settled on me. “Big is always better.” Once again I got those darn shivers. His sexy tone made it clear he was…was what? I didn’t know. I was reading too much in to it. My dirty mind and all. That’s what it was.

“Here’s my room and your room is upstairs. Is it okay if we set Spider-Man here at the table for now?” When Thayer and I simply nodded, we continued to trail behind him through the house and up the stairs.

“Gracie decorated for me if you’re wondering.”

“It was on the tip of my tongue. She did a great job.”

“Waste of money if you ask me. Why are pillows on the couch considered decorations? I don’t get it. But there’s no arguing with Grace. Here is where y’all can sleep. It should do y’all just fine for when Adrian shows up.”

I swallowed. I really was going to have to come clean with him now and let him know Adrian wasn’t showing up. Saying nothing though, I followed him into our room where there was a bed big enough for Thayer and I to share, a nightstand and a dresser.

“This door leads into the bathroom which is shared with the other room. That room is my office. Why don’t I leave y’all to rest for a while and do what you need? Make yourself at home, use whatever you need, do whatever you want. I can go fix dinner or something.”

He turned to leave but I stopped him. “Thatcher, wait.” I placed my hand on his back, feeling the muscle tense under my touch. He turned his stormy blue gaze on me. “Um, thank you for all of this. For everything.”

“No problem. Adrian wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d do the same for me if our positions were reversed.”

He walked out reminding me that he wasn’t doing this for me but for Adrian. Once again, I was being shown how inconsequential I was to him.

Not going to lie, it stung.

I turned to Thayer who had crawled up on to the big bed and was already drifting off to sleep. I pulled his tennis shoes off and looked around for a throw blanket, ignoring the gut-wrenching pain of having lost all of our possessions. I would have to get him a Spider-Man blanket soon enough. Finding a throw blanket in one of the dresser drawers, I covered Thayer and made my way into the bathroom.

The mirror officially confirmed I looked a ragged mess. I used the toilet and washed my face and when that didn’t help, the shower looking so enticing, I peeled off my clothes and turned the shower up as hot as it would go. Allowing the water to pour over my body, I finally let go of my strength and cried. I know it wasn’t worth much, but it was my stuff. All of my things – my clothes, my shoes, good Lord, even my make-up. All of it was gone. My pictures and my reading tablet. My books. Thayer’s baby box full of mementos from the hospital. His baby book that wasn’t finished. My mind was in inventory mode, thinking of all the things we’d lost. My marriage, even though that had been gone for a long time with this development, I could chalk it all up in one fell swoop.

Up in smoke.

When the water began to cool, I scrubbed my body, washed my hair and got out. My heap of clothes on the floor looked dirty and I really didn’t want to throw them back on. I gathered them up and quietly went into our room where Thayer still lay fast asleep. At the foot of the bed, folded up nice and neat was a bundle of clothes. Oh, my gosh. My heart melted quite a bit at the gesture.

I picked up the black sweatpants that would have to be rolled up quite a bit to stay on my hips. Automatically I brought the flannel shirt to my nose, inhaling the fresh laundered scent. I needed to tell Thatcher about Adrian and my divorce. With Thayer asleep, now, was probably the best time to do so. Lord knows something was going to hit the fan.

Pulling the sweats on and throwing the shirt over my bare skin, I bundled up all of my dirty clothes and headed down the stairs, leaving our bedroom door open, hoping Thayer wouldn’t get nervous if he woke up without me in there.

I hadn’t spotted Thatcher and he already had me in a tizzy. Something about wearing his sweatpants and shirt with no undergarments, I suppose. The fabric rubbing against me every step of the way felt like a warning of some sort. The strong smell of coffee permeated the air when I stepped into the dining room and kitchen. Thatcher’s hands gripped the edge of the counter as he stood facing the window above the sink. His head was bowed in a defeated warrior pose. Had his shoulders not been solid, strong against the world. I wondered what he was thinking about. Little flutters ran around my belly as I took in his lean, muscular backside and how his black t-shirt stretched taut across those solid shoulder blades.

Oh, man, the boy was made of the finest materials. As angry and hurt by him as I’d been from the past, it didn’t stop me from noticing every line, every muscle, every movement he made. He was the epitome of that saying, save the best for last. My gaze roamed over his perfectly-fit jeans and loved the way the denim hugged his butt like a glove. Those flutters in my belly continued as I made my way down to his work boots and slowly back up to his-

“You like what you see, Abigail?”

My cheeks heated in embarrassment as my eyes met his. He had that look about him again. The one that said I was lucky there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about this situation; otherwise, he’d have me in his arms in a New York minute. No way would I admit to checking him out. Especially to him. I couldn’t get my mouth to work to utter a single word.

“I see you found my clothes.”

“Thank you. I’m just going to wash mine if that’s okay? We don’t have anything to wear. When Thayer wakes up, I’d like to wash his, too.”

He led me out to the laundry room and showed me where the soap was. I could feel the tension between us – coming from him – so strong it made my knees feel weak. I was aware of every single movement, every shrug, every bend in his arm as he helped me get the washing machine ready. I wish he’d just go away and let me get this on my own. It was bad enough I was wearing his clothes, I didn’t need him breathing on me too.

“What’s going on Abigail?”

“What do you mean?” Even I could hear the shakiness in my voice. The air was almost suffocating and I hoped he couldn’t see the rise and fall of my chest from breathing so fast.

“What’s going on? There’s something you aren’t leveling with me on and I want to know what it is.”

I tried ignoring him, casually throwing my mismatched panties and bra into the machine and covering them with my shirt and jeans. Once I got the machine going, I turned around and was met face-to-face with a not-so-happy Thatcher. He braced his hands against the machine, effectively closing me in the small area between him and the washer, leaving no room for me to go anywhere. At least not unless I wanted to touch him, which I was not going to do.

Three inches filled up with five years of stuff. The muscle in his jaw worked itself and his eyes, oh Lord those eyes, all blue and stormy like the ocean, tried so hard to read into my soul.

I swallowed.

“I’m not asking again. What the fuck is going on with you? Adrian thought you told me something and as far as I can tell, you haven’t said a damn word about anything. I want to know what it is. What are you hiding?”

My mouth felt like it’d gone through a terrible wind storm and I swallowed again while trying not to breathe in his masculine scent, which I swear smelled like vanilla, into my nose. Trying not to feel the thick air that filled up the three inches of space between us. I tried really hard not to look at his lips that were shaped to perfection and colored with a kissable pink and surrounded by all that facial hair that my fingers were just itching to touch. So much so that I was sure my knuckles were white from the tight hold I had on these sweatpants.

“Adrian and I got a divorce.” I let it all out in one quick breath. There. I said it. I couldn’t look him in the eye. My eyes darted everywhere but at him. Seconds went on. Minutes, maybe. Finally, unable to stand the tension and heat of his half-embrace, I went to move but his arm wouldn’t budge.

“What did you say?” he whispered, as if his life was changing.

“You heard me, Thatcher. It’s over between us.” I didn’t add the fact that it’d never started between us because, well, when I looked Thatcher in the eye, he looked like he might blow a gasket. The vein in his temple was bulging, his jaw was ticking and a quick glance confirmed that tattooed forearm was indeed, tense.

“Why?”

I cocked my head to the side, pondering all of the reasons Adrian and I were over. Pondering what I should tell him. What I wanted to tell him. What I thought he deserved to know. Did he care if Adrian never found me sexually attractive and vice-versa? Did he really want to know how many times I’d wanted a man, any man, to find me attractive enough to love me and stay with me? Did he care that Adrian and I got along as great friends and nothing more?

“It wasn’t working out, okay?”

“Wasn’t working out in what way?” he asked in a clipped voice.

Sex. Love. You know the usual. “Thatcher, damn it, it’s not your concern. It’s over between us. It was a friendly agreement.” We don’t love each other. Not the way I love you. No. Just no. I wasn’t willing to go there. I didn’t believe it even as the voice inside my head said it.

“The hell it’s not my concern. What about Thayer?”

My heart sunk. Not because I was jealous of my son – just that Thatcher worried about him and not me. The truth rearing its ugly head yet again.

“Thayer is going to be fine. Adrian can see him whenever he wants. He’s been a great dad to him.”

His eyes faltered as I said this and I instantly felt bad for my implication. Defeated, he pulled his arms away from the washing machine effectively letting me free. He wouldn’t even look at me, just stepped back allowing me to go on my way. I stepped away and then stopped with my back to him. I wanted to ask him all these burning questions that I’ve had for years – they were on the tip of my tongue – why he left Thayer and I. Why hadn’t I mattered enough for him to stay with me? I wanted to blame him that he couldn’t dare be angry about any of this because this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for him.

“I don’t understand you,” I whispered.

I walked out, anger and hurt on top of the exhaustion suddenly taking over me. I was once again confused by this man. What did he want from me? What didn’t he want from me? I went to my bedroom and laid on the bed, careful not to jostle Thayer as I snuggled into the pillows.

There was no way Thayer and I could stay here longer than a night.