“I’m glad.”
He nodded like he somehow understood the importance of this playdate just as much as the adults in the room did.
“Okay, let’s play.” He looked at the women standing behind me. “Do you guys want to play with us, too?”
God, he was a gem, just like Sayer had told me. He was sweet, considerate, and so welcoming that I had no idea how anyone could have chosen drugs and abusive relationships over him. He was nothing but light.
Sayer’s soft voice floated over us as I moved to open the boxes of colorful blocks for him.
“Thank you, Hyde, but you should play with Zeb. He’s here just for you. He’s been waiting for a really long time to play with you.”
“Really?”
The wonder in his tone made my fingers twitch as my hands fought to curl into fists. How could such a wonderful child ever doubt his importance? It made me want to break things. Lots and lots of things.
“Really, buddy. It’s just me and you. Let’s make something awesome.”
“Cool!” His excitement was infectious as he flopped back down on his stomach on the rug in front of me. I folded myself into a sitting position on the floor in front of him and looked over at Sayer.
She had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were locked on us and I could see the same determination in those bright blue depths that I knew was shining out of mine.
Hyde was mine. He was going home with me and it didn’t matter what we had to do to make that happen.
This little boy would never, ever have to question if he was wanted again. He was more than wanted and the sooner I could tell him that the better.
CHAPTER 7
Sayer
I felt like I was watching my kid graduate or achieve some other major life accomplishment as Poppy walked out the front door of my house with Rowdy. She wasn’t a shut-in exactly, but it was close. Poppy would go to the grocery store or make a run to Target, but she never left to do anything fun. She definitely didn’t search out interaction with other people, especially people of the opposite sex, so the fact that she was voluntarily and eagerly going to have dinner with my brother one-on-one felt like a momentous occasion. I may have even gotten a little teary-eyed when Poppy told me she would be fine when I asked her if she wanted me to tag along just in case. It felt like her road to recovery was finally getting less steep. Regardless of the terrain, I was so happy that she had so many people willing to make the trip with her, and I wanted to hug my brother for being so amazing and refusing to give up on his childhood friend.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised when as soon as Rowdy and Poppy pulled out of the driveway my phone rang. It was Thursday night so I knew Salem would be hanging out with her tight-knit group of girlfriends and that an invitation to join them would be coming my way. I often tried to make sure I kept my Thursday nights free just for that purpose because I enjoyed spending time with Salem’s group of girlfriends very much. The young women were all colorful, funny, smart, and maybe, most admirably, they were all deeply in love and protective of the men that made up my little brother’s chosen family. They were also very kind and welcoming, never making me feel like the odd one out even though I knew I didn’t exactly fit in with the group.
While I could admire and appreciate the beautiful art that covered so much of their skin and could listen endlessly to the tales of motherhood and relationship trials and tribulations, it wasn’t anything I could relate to. I couldn’t even imagine how that kind of body modification would have gone over as I was growing up, and now, as an adult, I was so deeply entrenched in my professional world that I couldn’t see a place for it. Not to mention those kinds of permanent colors were terrifying to a person who was only brave enough to hide them on her toes and then cover them up with nude pumps.
I also had no clue what it took to raise a child while working or going to school full-time, to give of myself so fully to someone else while trying to still be successful and happy. To me, Salem and her friends were superwomen, and I was so lucky they included me and seemed to genuinely like me. It also tugged at my heart how they had all rallied around Poppy and tried to guide her gently, yet firmly back into life. Their concern and kindness went well beyond the fact that she was Salem’s sister and could be attributed to the fact that they were all simply amazing women who wanted another woman to heal and be healthy.
Then there was the way they were with their men. All of them, Salem included, had fallen for strong, difficult, complicated men. They all had spouses and lovers who took some work and yet they never complained or asked for anyone easier. I think that was what drew me to them the most. I couldn’t get enough of listening to the way they talked about the challenges and rewards they had in loving the men they did. It was beautiful. It was special. It was heartbreaking because I doubted that I would ever have someone be as passionate or as willing to fight for me through the chilly walls I had erected to keep myself safe and insulated for most of my life.
I thanked Salem for the invite but declined mostly because I didn’t want to do my hair or put on real pants to go out. We chitchatted for a few minutes and I could tell she was just as emotional and just as hopeful as I was that Poppy had not only left the house but had done so on her own with a man. We shared a moment of sappy love over how wonderful Rowdy was and I dropped a hint that was as subtle as a sledgehammer that my brother would make a wonderful father. She laughed but there was an extra sparkle in her voice even over the phone, and if I was the betting type I would put down good money that I would have a beautiful little niece or nephew to dote on in the near future.
When I hung up I was suddenly faced with a house that was far too quiet and a mind that was far too noisy. The idea of someone fighting for me, being passionate and invested in me, of course meant I started thinking about Zeb. If I had been infatuated with the man before, there was no stopping the precipitous and out-of-control slide of my feelings into something deeper, bigger, and more layered as I watched him get to know his son. Seeing the tender and careful way he handled the little boy was way too much for my heart and my ovaries to take.
It didn’t matter that he was Hyde’s biological father, or that the boy was smitten with him, the court had a procedure to follow and questions were already being asked about Zeb’s criminal record. We were scheduled to have our first hearing in front of a judge on Monday, and I knew he was a nervous wreck about it. There was nothing he could do to change his past and it seemed entirely unfair that it was going to have such a huge impact on his future. He needed me to be at the top of my game, to have my legal ducks all in a row to fight this fight for him. The idea of failing Zeb and little Hyde ripped at me, and now it was the possibility of not coming through for the green-eyed duo that kept me awake at night instead of sweaty, sexy dreams.
While the professional distance was necessary and should have been in place from the beginning, it didn’t stop me from wishing things were different and longing for the date that now seemed like nothing more than a collection of empty words. My father had hammered into me over and over again that the only thing I should strive for was perfection, for flawlessness in my schooling and then in my business. To him, that was where my value had always been, in tangible and external manifestations of success. Wanting something or someone for myself on a personal level was frivolous and selfish and I had denied myself that luxury over and over again. It was one of the reasons I was no good with men. I didn’t know how to be with one just because I wanted him.
My entire life I had sought out partners whom I could take home and who could withstand my father’s scrutiny. They had to look right, act right, and come from the right background. How they made me feel, how they treated me, how we were together when the lights went out were all secondary to how my father would perceive them. It was all show and never an actual relationship. Nathan was the prime example of that. The one time my father seemed to approve of anything I did was when Nathan put a ring on my finger. It didn’t matter that we bo
red each other silly and lacked any kind of passion or heat.
As though my intense and swirling thoughts had pulled Zeb into the vortex of self-pity I was lost in, my phone vibrated in my hand with a message from him as I wandered aimlessly through the empty rooms.
I shivered at the sight of his name and then silently scolded myself for having such a powerful reaction to only his name on the screen. His message was simple but for some reason it felt full of more meaning and emotion than the three words staring up at me indicated.
Can you talk?
I bit my lip and decided how to answer. I didn’t talk to my clients after office hours were done for the day and I was already having a really hard time keeping the professional and personal lines clear where he and this case were concerned. I sighed and tapped out:
I can. Do you want me to call you?
I had started this process as his friend first and it wasn’t fair to him that my heart was pulling itself apart because of his situation. He was probably nervous and scared about what was coming next week, and I was the only one who could put some of that at ease.
There wasn’t a response for a long couple of minutes and I hated that all I could do was stare at my phone and pace back and forth while I waited to see what he was going to say. I was acting like a smitten teenager and it was ridiculous. I snorted at myself and headed into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine when the phone rang, making me jump. I wasn’t prepared for him to call me right that moment and had a bout of anxiety about answering the call before I told myself to man up and swiped my finger across the screen.
“Hey. Everything all right?” I heard a car honk its horn wherever he was calling from, and he mumbled something that wasn’t directed at me before answering.
“Fuck no. I’m freaking out over this court date on Monday. I can’t think straight and I’m screwing things up left and right, which isn’t good when you deal with power tools most of the day.” He sighed and I so wanted to give him a hug. “I ordered the wrong color paint for the living room in the house I’m working on and the painters sprayed it today. It’s blue . . . like really goddamn blue, and now I need to fix it so my guys don’t kill me. I have to go get a layer of primer on the walls so the paint crew can go in and respray tomorrow. I’ve been working my crew like crazy because I’ve been missing so much work lately and this may be the last straw. I’m gonna have to work all night. I need you to tell me everything will be all right, Sayer. I’m going out of my mind over here.”
I didn’t want to lie to him, so I huffed out a breath and told him, “The case has some challenges, Zeb. We’ve talked about those, but the court advocate has seen how great you are with Hyde and it’s obvious the best place for him is with you. We just need to convince the court of that and you need to leave that to me. That’s why I’m your plan, remember?”
He swore again and I heard his car door open and shuffling as he got in. “I just wish I didn’t have that arrest staring me in the face every time I think about possible reasons the judge could keep Hyde from me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as his remorse over his past misdeeds heavily laced his words. “All you can do is be thankful that no matter how bad the circumstances might’ve been that led you there, they did, in a roundabout way, lead you to Hyde. I see the way you look at him, Zeb. There is no regret there even if the path to him might have been bumpy.”
He sighed again. “You’re really good at this lawyer shit, Sayer. If I haven’t said it enough, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I put a hand over my eyes and squeezed my temples with my fingers. His words pulled at so many different parts of me. I could feel those emotions that he called to pushing at all the things I tried to keep them tied down with.
“I’m happy to help. It’s not often I know for a fact that the parent fighting so hard for custody is the absolute right choice for the child. We are doing the right thing here, and you just have to have faith that the court and the powers that be will see it. One battle at a time, Zeb. That’s all we can tackle, okay?”
He was quiet for a long moment, but I could hear him breathing and then finally he grunted a little bit and replied, “Well, then the battle I need to tackle right now is those god-awful walls. Thank you for talking me off the ledge. It’s impossible not to hope for the best when I talk to you.”
Maybe it was the overwhelming quiet of my house or it was the wistfulness in his voice. Or maybe it was the fact that no matter how hard I tried to keep a clear divide between the two of us, I was always going to be too eager to cross over it when an opportunity presented itself.
Like a goddamn fool.
Calling myself every kind of name for fool there was in the book, I blurted out, “I’m not doing anything tonight, and Poppy went out with Rowdy, so if you need an extra set of hands to help with the paint I can swing by the house.” I wanted to groan. I was the least handy person in the whole world and I don’t think I had ever even held a paintbrush, but the idea of getting to spend some one-on-one time with him was just so tempting that I ignored all of that and secretly hoped he would ignore it, too.
He chuckled a little. “Are you serious?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Sure. Why not?”
“Well, I’m not going to turn down free labor, especially when that free labor looks like you. Do you even own anything that you won’t be pissed to get paint on, Say? What I do tends to get dirty.” His voice dropped a little bit and there was a husky timbre to the words that made me shiver.
There was a double entendre there that was impossible to miss and it made all of my skin heat up from the inside out. Not to mention no one had ever shortened my name before. I wasn’t exactly the cutesy nickname type. My father wouldn’t have approved and as such I was always just “Sayer.” Zeb’s shortening of my name felt intimate. It felt far more familiar than I should be allowing myself to get with him. Still I didn’t say anything other than “I’m sure I can find something. I’ll change and head over.”
He told me thank you again and I was eternally grateful no one was around to witness the way I ran up the stairs so fast that I tripped, or the way I started pawing through all the clothes in my closet like a deranged person. Things fell off of hangers and off of shelves, ending up in piles on the floor that got tangled around my feet and had me tripping all over again. Finally, out of desperation, because I really didn’t own anything that was worn out or already stained, I decided that what I wore to the gym would have to be good enough. I left on my stretchy yoga pants that I had changed into after work and added a tank with a built-in bra—both were colored a sedate gray—and shoved my feet into my running shoes. Those were black with hot-pink stripes on the sides. Overall it was as boring and uninteresting as the stuff I wore to the office, but at least I wouldn’t cry if I had to throw any of it out if it ended up paint spattered and ruined.
I yanked all of my hair into a messy braid at the back of my head and practically ran out the front door. I told myself to calm down the entire drive over, lectured myself sternly that appearing this eager and excited to see him outside of CASA or my office would send the wrong message. I could be his lawyer and his friend. I was strong enough, my heart cool enough from the deep freeze I kept it in, to put all the heavier, denser things I felt for him to the side and simply enjoy some casual time in his company while I offered a helping hand. I was just a friend helping out another friend.
Yeah, right. I wasn’t buying it, which meant Zeb would see right through me.
Despite the embarrassment that my out-of-control hormones were bound to cause, I strolled past his gigantic Jeep with my head held high and my breath trapped deep in my lungs. The front door was propped open and there was light and music coming from somewhere inside the house.
I picked my way carefully over the still littered and messy floor because the lighting was faint and only coming from the front room of the house. Even though things were still torn apart, it w
as amazing to see how much work Zeb and the guys had put into the house in just a few short weeks. In places where there had been holes, there were now openings to other rooms and I could see they had started on the kitchen. All the old stuff was gone, leaving blank walls and a clean slate for Zeb to do his thing.
I followed the twangy, bluesy sound of whatever he was listening to into what I assumed was the living room of the house. I expected him to already be hard at work on the “god-awful” blue walls—really they weren’t that bad. I kind of liked how bright and cheery they seemed, but he was sitting on a white bucket, focused intently on his phone. There was a slight smile stamped on his mouth, and I had a moment in which I was tempted to turn around and run back to the car and head home. I didn’t want to intrude, but while I waffled, his head suddenly snapped up and those green eyes pinned me on the spot. Some of my indecision must have shown on my face because he held the phone up and told me, “My niece keeps texting me from my sister’s phone. Beryl has a new boyfriend that she isn’t ready to introduce to the family, so I’ve been covertly bugging Joss for info.”
I cleared my throat a little. “That isn’t very sneaky if you’re texting her on her mom’s phone. Your sister is guaranteed to see it.”
He chuckled. “I want her to see it. My sister hasn’t dated much since all that stuff went down with her ex. I want her to be happy, and if this guy is the one to do it, I want to meet him. It’s my brotherly right.”
I walked farther into the room as he climbed to his feet. “Zebulon and Beryl? Your mother named you both after famous explorers.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow at me and his grin got wider within the beard that covered the lower half of his face. “Not many people pick up on that. I think she wanted great things for us. Too bad she just got stuck with a couple of normal kids. What about you? Where did ‘Sayer’ come from? That’s pretty unusual.”