Can I handle this? I can. For sure. I don’t understand why I have the urge to go for another run then. Because I got this. What could she possibly want answers to that she doesn’t already have? The real reason I left her. That was one. I could think of a few more. Knowing this could be a long night, I grabbed my small work cooler from the mud room and packed it with the remaining beers I’d retrieved from the fridge.

I hated hurting her. I hated knowing she was hurt. Not just because of my past mistakes but because of the fire, her divorce and because of the fact that I was unwilling to share much with her. I hated that I was going to take her to court and attempt to gain custody of Thayer. I poured some ice into the cooler, trying to talk myself into the fact that I needed to give her more. Give her more than these one-syllable answers.

I know why I cared about her divorce, but the thoughts and feelings in my head sounded good only in my head. It was damn more difficult to say all the things I was feeling. Let alone to her. Besides, I’ve always wanted to be Thayer’s father, I’ve just been a pussy. With the terms of this will, it cemented something that was long over-due on my part. I grabbed the cooler and headed outside to find Abigail holding Thayer’s turtle. I stood beside her and watched as the turtle pressed his feet against her hands in an attempt to be free.

“If you hold him gently and let your fingertips feel, you can feel the life of him beating through the underside of his shell.”

“I’ll trust your word on that.”

She glanced up at me from her chair, those pretty green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Her head was arched back slightly, that long, pale neck exposed to my liking and I was taken to another time. A night with the feel of it just like this one as we sat on the tailgate of my truck sharing a beer between us. Heated. Humid. A cloudless sky filled with stars and an almost-full moon. The heavy smell of jasmine permeated the air, a smell that to this day I associated with Abigail.

“I’ve never been with anyone else, Thatcher.”

“Never?” I knew she’d never been but fuck if I wasn’t dying to hear the confirmation come from her lips.

“No. Never. How will I know if…” She stopped, her voice trailing into the night sky. I gripped her chin with my thumb and forefinger, the rest of my hand easily cupping her neck as I forced her to look at me.

“How will you know what?” I demanded.

I could feel her swallow beneath my fingertips, holding the breath inside me as I waited for her answer. Her eyes searched mine looking for unspoken answers.

“How will I know if I’m doing it right?” she whispered.

My chest burst with this awkward sensation. It felt like all the stars in the sky were swallowing me whole, that I was being sucked into their orbit, into this world I didn’t know existed. A world I’d never experienced before until Abby. Love, my inner voice whispered. That’s what this was. All I knew in that moment, was Abigail Greenley was mine. All mine. And tonight, I was going to show her how much mine she was.

“Baby, there’s no doubt in my mind that whatever you do to me will be right.”

“Thatcher…”

“Shh, look at me. I’ll show you, okay? I’ll talk you through everything, tell you what I’m going to do, tell you what I want you do. Anything. Everything. To make this good for you. I promise.”

“I know it’ll be good for me.” She gave me that naughty-girl smile that she’d come to reserve strictly for me. She took a drink of our beer and licked the sheen off her top lip, “I’m worried it won’t be any good for you.”

I reached for her small hand firmly placing it against my zipper, “You do this to me, Abigail Layne. It’s all you, Baby. All the time. You’re all I can think about. The only touch I crave is yours. There is no way it won’t be good for me.”

“You promise, Thatcher? You promise me you’ll tell me if there’s something you don’t like?”

“Abigail-”

“Just promise me, Thatcher.”

“I promise. I promise you anything. Everything.”

“Are you afraid of the turtle?” Her voice brought me back to the present and my eyes shifted from her neck to the turtle in her out-stretched hands. My cock was so close to her forearm that if I moved only a slight bit, she’d be able to feel the semi-hard-on I was sporting.

“No. I’m not afraid of the turtle. I just don’t want to hold it. I’d rather drink another beer.”

“Oh my gosh, is big, bad Thatcher Patterson afraid of this harmless little guy?”

I shook my head in agitation and sat down, popping the top off my beer and gulping as much as I could to avoid her quizzical stare. Afraid of the reptile. Ha. I sure as fuck wasn’t admitting that to her. Besides, it wasn’t so much fear as it was…well, he’s plain scary-looking.

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Yes you are.” Pure joy flashed across her face. The second smile tonight that was pure and genuine. Something inside me stirred. I wanted to see more of that smile.

“I can assure you, Cupcake, I’m not afraid of him.”

“You are! Hold him.” She leaned over in her chair, Spider-Man’s neck was stuck so far out of his shell, it was clear he was taunting me, too.

I raised my brow along with my beer bottle. Bringing the bottle to my lips in an effort to conceal the grin that was forming there.

“Not doing it,” I played with her.

“Spider-Man, can you believe what you’re hearing? I, for one, cannot believe my ears!” A deep belly laugh rumbled out of her throat, the night air sending her laughter on for miles. She leaned back in her chair with that sexy smile still on her face. I tried to conceal my own grin as I watched her, wondering what else I could say to get that laughter tumbling out of her once again.

“You should laugh more often. Looks good on you.”

Silence descended upon us the second my words were out. She cleared her throat and set the turtle back into his bin.

“I better go wash my hands.”

“Abigail-”

“I’ll be right back.”

I relaxed into my seat, hoping she would come back. All turtle talk aside, I needed to get to the bottom of their divorce. I had to understand it. To hear the words from her that I was hoping I wouldn’t – that she’d been miserable for the last five years. Why? Just punishment perhaps? Maybe in some way it would confirm what an asshole I was. Maybe asshole that I still am. I don’t know. Abby fucks with my brain. Everything I’ve done in the past; I’ve done for her. I’ve done to make her happy. Happier than she would be if she were stuck with me.

Including having her and Thayer stay here with me tonight. Selfishly, I liked being the one to look after them. To protect them. It thrilled me to no end that it was me whose arms she ran into this morning, that it was me who was there to comfort them. Giving Adrian my word that I would take care of them was more self-serving than I’d ever let on.

She stepped back out onto the patio and sat in her chair and I handed another beer to her exchanging it for her empty one.

“Glad you came back.”

“I told you I would.”

“You have to level with me, Abigail. Have you been unhappy this whole fucking time?” I could hear the desperation in my voice, as if my livelihood depended on her answer.

“It wasn’t like that, Thatcher.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t like that Thatcher?”

“I haven’t been unhappy this whole time.”

I stayed silent. Drank my beer. Enjoyed the August heat. Bided my time. Because asshole that I was, a small part of me was hoping she wasn’t completely happy with Adrian. Fucked up as I was, I still believed I could make her happier than any man out there. A weight settled into my gut because the fact was I was too much of a coward to even try.

“You don’t have to look so depressed about it.”

“I’m not. Just don’t understand how you guys got a divorce. A fucking divorce Abigail. What about Thayer?”

“What about him, Thatcher? It’s none of your concern because you left us. Or did you forget that?”

I glared at her. Suddenly restless, I sprang out of my chair and started to pace across the patio.

“I didn’t forget it. I told you not to play games with me. You’re tip-toeing around. Spit it out. From the beginning.”

“I’m not playing games with you. What do you want to know? Have I been unhappy? No. Not really. Adrian and I just aren’t meant to be.”

“What do you mean, not really?”

She gave me this look that made me feel like an idiot for asking. So sue me for wanting to know exactly why their marriage didn’t work out. I thought Adrian and I had sealed that deal a long time ago. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought anything would change from that.

“Well, what I mean, is we got along. As friends, Thatcher. Just as friends.”

“When did that start?”

She jerked her head back, looking up at me as if I’d lost my mind, “when did what start?”

“The whole “friends” thing.”

“Thatcher, you’ve lost me. That’s all Adrian and I have ever been to one another is friends. Since the beginning.”

I stopped pacing. Did I just hear her correctly? I stepped toward her. “Stand up,” I demanded.

“What?”

“Stand up,” I growled.

“What is your problem?”

“Look me in the eyes and repeat what you just said.”

“Adrian and I are just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, Thatcher. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“Since the beginning?” My mind reeled at what she was revealing to me. They’ve been friends from the beginning. So...no kissing? No sexual contact whatsoever? Fuck, no. Not possible.

“Yes! May I sit back down now?”

“No. Jesus fucking Christ, Abigail. Are you telling me you and Adrian have never kissed? Never had-”

“We’ve kissed.” She looked away from me. I didn’t much care for the way my heart flipped at the image my mind conjured up of her and Adrian kissing.

“But that’s it,” she mumbled.

Okay. I wasn’t expecting that admission. It was worse than I thought. Five years with each other and they never even did the deed? Not that I wanted them to. But I was a guy. I didn’t expect Adrian wasn’t unlike me on that end. We had needs. She had needs, too. Right? Even though I hadn’t had mine fulfilled in a while, I assumed he had. Or she would need to…

“Why, Abigail?”

“Quit being a butthead, Thatcher! Adrian and I don’t have those kinds of feelings for each other. We never have. We tried the whole…kissing thing and it didn’t work, okay? Nothing. No spark. No nothing. For either one of us. Nothing like what I experienced with-”

She stopped abruptly and I stepped an inch closer to her. The smell of my laundry soap tickled my nose and I took perverse delight in the fact that she kept my clothes on even after hers were done in the wash. The bright flame from the candles highlighted every striation of her olive eyes. I wanted to hear it. I wanted confirmation that I was the only man she’d ever slept with. That kissing Adrian was nothing like what she experienced when she kissed me.

“Tell me,” I tried demanding but my breath came out more as a guttural plea than a firm demand.

She closed her mouth. Her lips thinned, “No.”

“No? Tell me, Abigail. There was no spark when you kissed Adrian? Not like when you kissed me? So you’ve never slept with Adrian?”

Something passed over her wide eyes but she stayed silent. She held her chin up and said nothing.

“I’m going to take your silence as a no to my question. No, you’ve never fucked Adrian.” How could this be? I assumed all this time that they did those things, expected it even. But now, knowing they hadn’t, pure elation beat through my blood like a banjo.

She rocked back and forth, our eyes never losing contact with each other. “Fine. No! No, Thatcher, I’ve never fucked Adrian.”

Her stubborn chin moved up another inch as she looked up at me, steely determination on her face. I couldn’t believe this. After all this time, I was the only guy she’d ever been with? The realization hung between us, heavy branches full of snow threatening to snap. My gaze darted toward her mouth, her heaving chest as if she’d just climbed a set of stairs. I wasn’t surprised my dick was so fucking hard. This woman had me in knots. From the beginning and after all this time, she still managed to get me wound up. Why did I think it was going to be easy dealing with her?

“Have you only slept with me, Abigail?” I was an asshole; I couldn’t help it. I fisted my hands at my sides. I was a greedy asshole. I wanted to hear her say it.

She licked her lips and my body willed her to say yes. I was strung tight, my life hanging onto her next words. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Her hair tickled my cheek as she turned to walk away and before I could think about it, my arm was wrapped around her middle and my head was bent forward, my lips against her ear. She stilled in my embrace but didn’t move away and I took that as a good thing. Because holy hell. This was a good thing. Having her slender body pressed against me, the slight swell of her hips and the familiar smell of my shower products, it took my dick from hard to fucking steel with the way I was pressed into the curve of her butt. I hadn’t touched her like this for so long…too damn long.

“I want to hear you say it, Abigail. I need to.”

“Why, Thatcher? It’s not going to change anything. Adrian is still going to be in love with Rachel and Thayer and I are still going to be alone.”

I dropped my arm. “Rachel? Adrian is in love with Rachel?”

She turned around, “He moved in with her, Thatcher. What was I going to do? Deny him his one true love? That’s not me. I couldn’t go on and keep pretending. Not when I knew where his heart really was.”

“He was having an affair?” Once again my hands clenched into fists at my sides, “I’m going to pound his face in, Abby. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything before?”

“You didn’t give me a chance! Stop being a butthead, Thatcher. This is my life. This isn’t all about you. It’s about me and that little boy in there. I have to do what I think is best. I have to make the best decisions I can regarding the both of us. Living with Adrian while his heart longed to be somewhere else, was not something I wanted to keep doing, even if that meant being alone. Don’t you get it? I’ve been alone my whole life. I’ve never had a man genuinely want me and I’m tired of all the nonsense. Tired of pretending. Tired of wishing things were different. Tired of…” she sighed and let her shoulders fall. “I’m just tired of it all. Which is why Thayer and I can’t stay here beyond tomorrow.”

She quietly opened the screen door and slipped inside, leaving me and my now-shitty attitude alone outside with the smell of jasmine still heavy in the air.

That went well. I sat back in my chair and opened my cooler. Not like I haven’t sat out here alone a million times before in the August heat and drank beer. First time I’ve ever had my child sleeping inside though. Along with his stubborn mother. Definitely not the first time I considered what it would be like to be a father to him.

“Jesus, Grandpa. What in the hell are you trying to prove?”

I never did get the answers I wanted. Not exactly. And she never got a word in edge-wise to ask me anything. There was so much more I wanted to ask and understand regarding Abby. Five years’ worth of stuff. We had a lot of catching up to do. Come hell or high water, I was not letting her and Thayer leave tomorrow. I could be just as stubborn as her when I needed to be and I was not going to let her run away that easily.

Especially since I knew I had one thing going for me. That I was Abigail Layne Murphy’s one and only. That counted for something, didn’t it? A person didn’t just forget that shit, did they? Uh-uh. Not if the look in her eyes meant anything. Somewhere, deep down, and I was going to take my time to peel them back, were layers upon layers of Abby that I had to win over. Given the time, I could do it. I could prove that I was worthy of Thayer. Which is why she couldn’t leave tomorrow. I needed time. Time to make us right again. So long as it was in time with the terms of the will.

The screen slid open behind me and I angled my head to the side in order to see her. She still wore my sweatpants and one of my flannel shirts but she’d pulled her hair up. For a second, neither of us said a word. Ball was in her court. If there was something that was so important she was willing to come back out here for, then I was going to wait until she said it.

She stood in the doorway for so long, my neck started to kink. She gnawed on her bottom lip, one hand on her hip and the other bracing the door frame.

“I want to know one thing, Thatcher. Why did you leave us? Why weren’t we important enough for you to stay?”

Hurt and betrayal flickered in those lovely green eyes and just for a second that pointed chin of hers relaxed into her chest. She cocked her head and I knew my quiet, albeit lonely, night on the patio was kaput.