Chapter 13

[Brock]

Fuck. She can’t mean it, and I kiss her mouth to distract myself from how the word sounds in my head.

Superhero .

We kiss for a few minutes more before I break free and pull her hands from my face. Her fingertips are shriveled.

“I’m waterlogged,” I admit. “And you’re becoming a raisin.”

Pear giggles, leans forward to kiss me one more time, and then hikes her legs over the side of the hot tub. She rushes for a towel and then adds a blanket around herself while I step out of the tub as well. I’m surprised I’m not as cold as I expected, and glance up to find a heating lamp on in the overhang above us.

Note to self: turn that off as it’s a fire hazard if left unattended.

I don’t need to worry as Pear flips that magical switch once we enter the house and I demand she shower first.

“I want to call my kids anyway.”

Today marks a new year, and while the day isn’t very exciting, as far as holidays go, being that most people celebrated last night, I still want to check in with them. I’d spoken with them the day I arrived, but they were too wrapped up in the excitement of their mother’s wedding to give me more than five minutes on the phone.

Pear understands and I head to Cap’s room when she enters the bathroom.

“Dad?” Nick answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Nicky.”

“Dad,” he drones tightly.

I’m not allowed to call him Nicky anymore. Nick. He started going by the short, sharp name in high school, but six years later I’m still struggling not to call him by the nickname.

“Hi. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year. I didn’t expect to hear from you. ”

“Are you busy?” I ask, staring down at my lap. I removed both the wet towel and my drenched boxer briefs, opting for the throw blanket around my belly to keep me warm until it’s my turn for the shower.

“Nah. I’m putting you on speaker phone. Ellie is here.”

“Hey, baby,” I address my girl, finding my throat thickening for some reason.

“Hi, Daddy.” Eighteen-years old and she still calls me daddy sometimes. That lump in my throat becomes a heavy rock. “We didn’t think you’d be able to call us from the probation camp.”

“Restorative justice,” I correct. For some reason, I don’t explain my current situation. Instead, I quip, “But I was given time off for good behavior.”

Ellie giggles. Nick remains silent.

“How was the wedding?” The rock clogging my throat drops to a boulder in my belly. I don’t really want to know about my ex-wife and my best friend’s nuptials, but I’m trying to be polite.

A moment of silence passes, and I can almost envision my kids sharing a glance, deciding how to answer me. I’m opening my mouth, prepared to say it doesn’t matter, when Nick replies.

“Mom looked beautiful. Kenny, too.”

“I bet.” Melissa was always a beautiful woman. I’d never paid attention to Kenny’s appearance. She was one of the guys. My best friend. I didn’t see her in any way other than a nice-looking woman but not someone I was attracted to. Apparently, Melissa found her attractive, though.

“You guys don’t happen to have a picture of the two of you together, do you?” I hold my breath, knowing my kids both stood up in the small ceremony. In a flash, a text message pops up in the header of my phone.

“Just sent one,” Nick adds.

I click over to the text app and enlarge the shared photo. “Damn, buddy. You clean up nice,” I tease while my vision blurs.

My kids are so fucking grown up. Nick might be twenty-one and still have a baby-ish face, but his body is all man and we’ve had plenty of discussions about how the machine he is belongs on the field and nowhere else. No bar fights. No aggression toward women.

My baby girl, on the other hand, has looked like a woman for years, and she’s stunning in a deep red gown.

“Ellie, it probably wasn’t fair for you to outshine the brides, sweetheart. You look gorgeous.” Her brown hair has golden highlights, and it’s swept up in some elaborate hairstyle.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“So, what are you guys doing today? What have you been up to?”

“Kenny wanted us to come over.”

Mentally, I protest that Kenny and Melissa get more time with my kids. I’m missing out on two weeks with this twelve-day gig, and I brought it up to Cap, who brushed me off, knowing the kids would only be gone the week of Christmas for the wedding. Nick and Ellie are both home for a month between their semester breaks.

“I thought they were going on a honeymoon.”

“They leave tomorrow,” Ellie explains. “But we’re home now.” Home , meaning my house.

Silence fills the line again.

“Actually—” Ellie’s voice begins but some kind of struggle ensues and what sounds like the phone hitting the floor clambers through mine.

“You guys okay?”

A minute passes before Nick responds. “Yeah, we just—”

“We’re having a party, Daddy.” Ellie hollers as if feet away from the phone.

“Ellie,” Nick groans.

“What?” I chuckle, not half as upset as maybe I should be.

“We each asked five friends to come over,” Ellie explains. “I promise we’ll clean up everything.”

“Guys,” I groan, lowering my head and squeezing at my forehead. A party at my house without me present is the last thing I need.

“We’re ordering pizzas and watching the big game,” Nick adds.

“No alcohol,” I demand, but Nick is twenty-one.

“Dad,” he groans .

“Ellie.” My girl is a good girl, and Nick’s friends have all been warned away from her by him, being the protective, big brother he is. But alcohol and college kids aren’t a great mix. Not that I have any say when they are away at school, but I’m not liking this combination in my home.

For some reason, Pear’s voice whispers through my head, reminding me I need to let my kids make their own choices, and their own mistakes. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to prevent something dangerous or harmful from happening to them, but they’re still good kids. Nick will watch out for Ellie. And Ellie can hold her own against his friends.

“Okay.” I sigh.

“What?” Ellie squeaks.

“Ow,” Nick grunts.

“What happened?”

“Ellie hit me.” The fake pout in Nick’s voice suggests he isn’t really hurt.

I chuckle.

“She said you’d let us have the party if we only asked,” Nick explains.

Have I been so tough on my kid that he’s too afraid to ask if he can have friends over? For that fact . . . is he preferring I’m not home, so I don’t embarrass him? These are hard thoughts to have.

“Nick.” I swallow that lump rising back up in my throat. “I trust you.”

Silence fills the line again, and I’m assuming another eyeball conversation is happening between siblings.

“Gone by midnight,” I suggest.

“Sure, Dad.” Nick’s voice sounds lighter.

“But no drinking and driving. If people need to stay the night, just . . . let me know.” I should definitely know who is staying at my house when I’m not present.

“Absolutely,” Ellie confirms .

“Okay, well, have fun.” I swallow hard once more, wishing I was the one ordering pizza and watching the game with my kids. But I also understand that hanging with their old man isn’t high on the list of good times anymore.

“I love you guys.” My nose starts to tickle. My eyes burn.

“Love you, too, Daddy,” Ellie says, her voice cheerful and sweet as always.

“Love you.” Nick’s voice is quick but not insincere. He’s a good boy. A good man. I have much to be thankful for with my kids.

On that note, the phone goes dead, and I stare down at the device in my hands. After a quick text to Ma in the family group chat with her and my siblings, I have one more text to send.

I open the contact labeled Nat’s Parents, type a message and hit send.

Happy New Year. Thinking of you.

I don’t expect a reply. I rarely get one.

A short knock comes to Cap’s bedroom door, and I lift my head as Pear opens it, hesitating as she pokes her head around the barrier.

“Hey. I’m done in the shower. You’re up.” A smile fills her rosy face, freshly scrubbed and sparkling a bit with light makeup. Her lips are brighter red. Her lashes darker.

“You okay?” she questions, opening the door wider.

“Yeah.” I blink once and rub my eyes with my forefinger and thumb. “Just checking in with my kids.”

The tender touch of Pear’s hand on my arm has me flinching. My eyes snap open to see her pulling back her hand.

She remains quiet and I lift my phone, giving it a gentle shake as I stare back at the device. “I sent a text to my family, and one to . . .” My throat tightens. “One to Nat’s parents.”

Pear doesn’t ask at first and quiet seconds pass between us before she says, “Who is Nat?”

“Was. He was a newbie in the department under my charge.” I twist my lips. With a deep inhale and a shuddering exhale, I add. “He passed away a few years ago. ”

Without looking up at Pear, I explain. “It was my fault.”

“What? No. No ,” her quiet plea softens. Her lowers beside me on the edge of the bed and wraps her hand around my forearm.

“Bomb threat. Turned into a three-alarm fire.” I almost can’t breathe as I recall the smoke, the heat, and the scream. “He fell down an airshaft. Four floors.”

Closing my eyes, I add, “He was only twenty-four.” He had so much life before him. No wife. No kids. Just a happy-go-lucky guy with a laugh like a hyena. He was so fucking funny.

“Brock, that was not your fault.”

“I trained him,” I snap at her, lifting my head and glaring at her before lowering my gaze once more.

Pear goes quiet and I turn the phone over and over in my hands. Her hand slips from my forearm, my skin suddenly cold without her touch.

“Have you spoken with someone about this? About how you feel?”

On the tip of my tongue is a retort. Telling her once again I don’t need a shrink. But I remember what she said. She wanted to grow bigger.

“Had mandatory sessions. Ten of them. There was nothing to discuss.” The therapist didn’t think I was making progress, and she could have kept me from returning to work, but I explained to Cap that I was fine. Risks came with the job. I understood that I had nothing to do with Nat’s misstep or the hidden shaft. Still, guilt ate at me.

“But . . .” I draw out a heavy breath. “It’s one reason I don’t want Nick joining the department.”

I don’t want to lose my son like Nat’s parents lost him. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I wouldn’t know how to go on without my boy.

Eventually, Pear asks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I didn’t. I really didn’t, so I shake my head. “I just want to shower.”

Pear’s voice remains quiet. “All yours.”

I shouldn’t have snapped at her. And I should have told her more. Maybe I should talk to someone. Just not today.

I stand instead, and head to the bathroom needing a few minutes to be alone and clear my head.

+ + +

“What’s all this?” A chuckle fills my voice. I feel better after my shower. I feel even lighter because Nat’s parents responded to my text with wishes for a happy new year. In my heart, I know they never blamed me. I’d put the fault on myself.

However, I didn’t want to think about Nat right now. Not with the spread set up on the kitchen table. While I’d asked my question, I can see for myself that Pear has been busy. Chili in a slow cooker. Chips and topping options in small bowls around the cooker. Cheese and crackers on a fancy board; pear slices among them. The timer on the oven beeps and Pear removes a baking sheet of cookies.

“How did you do all this?” I didn’t think I’d been in the shower that long, but apparently, she’s a kitchen wizard.

“The chili won’t be ready for a bit, but the other stuff was in the fridge. The cookie dough is the pre-made kind I found in the freezer. Not my best cookies, but they work.”

I glance up at her and notice she’s wearing a bright red sweater and hip-hugging jeans. I haven’t seen her in such an outfit yet.

“You’re dressed in color.”

Pear glances down at herself.

“I’ve only seen you in a variety of whites.” And a red bathing suit earlier today.

I’ve killed the vibe with my memories of Nat.

“Oh.” Pear swipes a hand self-consciously over her stomach. “I used to wear a lot of black. Like a lot. And when I finally moved on from Reggie, I made a major wardrobe change. White is so much brighter. But . . .” She laughs. “I do own other colors. Like red.” She plucks at her sweater.

I smile but her smile in return is weak.

“This is quite a spread for lunch.”

Pear shrugs. “Well, it’s game day.”

Right, college football. I glance back at her sweater. “Please tell me you are not—”

“Go Bulldogs.” She timidly raises a fist in solidarity with University of Georgia.

I want to punch myself in the face for her sudden cautious actions. This is my fault, and I step closer to her.

“You know, you and me cannot be an us if you root for red. I’m a blue and gold man. Go Wolverines.” Lifting my hand, I brush back a long, dark strand of her hair which is so soft and shiny. Her vanilla scent tickles my nose, and I want to restore us to how we were earlier.

“Time,” I whisper.

“Time for what?”

Leaning toward her, I hover over her mouth. My gaze seeks her eyes, hoping she’ll take my meaning.

When she doesn’t close the distance, I accept that I need to ask for what I want. “Kiss me.”

Pear leans forward and our mouths meet but the kiss is too quick and stiff.

Nope. Not having this . “I’m sorry I snapped,” I say as I pull back. “That’s on me. Nat is a difficult subject.”

“And you should really talk to someone about him.”

“I—” My rejection of the idea cuts off when she lifts those blue eyes to me. Eyes the color of a cold lake that was meant to cleanse me of any negativity. “I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Her brows lift. Her eyes widen.

“Yes.” I’m not just blowing a promise at her, either. “I’ll look into something when I get home. For now, I’m serving my twelve-day . . . service.”

“Service?” Pear snorts, but the sound is more humor than sarcasm. “You should be servicing me, then.”

I grin, tipping up a brow, before Pear blushes and recants. “I meant serve. You should be serving me.” She waves at the spread on the table.

“I will. Take a seat. I’ll bring over the cheese board and a glass of wine.” I arch a brow to confirm that’s what she’d like.

“That sounds perfect. ”

Reaching for her hair again, I scoop pieces behind her ear. “You’re perfect, baby.”