Wayward Son

“Claire, you ready?” Danny gently knocked on her door.

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

He smiled and wiggled the knob. “Everything’s ready. Flygande cleared out fast when I promised half-priced first drinks on Monday because we closed early. Merv had to keep George from dancing on the tables.” He hoped to hear her laugh, but she didn’t.

“Greyson hasn’t texted. What if he isn’t coming?”

“Don’t do this to yourself. He’s sixteen and isn’t thinking about how his silence is affecting you. It takes us boys a good many years before our reasoning kicks in.” Again, he failed to make her laugh and instead heard her sigh.

The sound of heels clicking across the wood floor came closer. He cleared his throat and stepped back, adjusting the collar of his navy, button-down dress shirt. Which suddenly felt too tight around his throat even though the top button was undone.

Would she be wearing his favorite wool dress with those sexy stockings? Or maybe she’d be in a new vintage year, blowing his mind even more. If that was possible.

“Come in, I’m almost done.”

The door swung open, and he wasn’t prepared. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t vintage. The modern, long-sleeved, navy shimmering cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh was the best thing he’d ever seen. And the endless sculpted legs below it were even better.

“I raised him better than this.” Claire pushed a clasp onto a long, dangling diamond-studded earring with her back facing him. She didn’t notice Danny’s reaction, or rather lack of reaction. He was statuesque.

She remained unaware as his thick gaze wandered from the same pair of stilettos she wore at The Pit to the cut calves they created.

“Sixteen or not, I really wish he’d let me know when he’s coming.”

His heavy eyes continued up from the dress that hugged her lithe form to her hair that was tied to the side in a low knot, opening a clear view to a deep scoop in the back of her dress. Almost as low as the cream-colored gown picture he’d zoomed in on.

He thought he was still breathing, but he wasn’t sure.

“You all went through so much trouble for him tonight, and I don’t care what excuse he may give, it’s rude. Of course, I have no control over that now.”

Her last comment missed his ears, and he still couldn’t speak. His feet started forward, hand lifting slowly, itching to touch her.

“Do you think this dress is too much for dinner? It’s the only one that would match you, but I don’t know what is appropriate for Solsken. I tried to pick casual for what I’d normally wear to a dinner, but not too casual.” She placed the clasp on her second earring. “I’m so grateful for everything you did. Cooking for hours. Goodness, Daniel, I don’t know how you did it.”

She didn’t seem to realize he never answered her and had a complete one-sided conversation with herself.

His eyes continued taking their time over the contours of her hips, back down to sculpted thighs and calves—slowly trailing up again until they reached her bare back.

“I will, however, insist on paying you back for whatever food you b—” She sucked in when his fingers touched her back. Her skin pebbled as he moved them up her spine.

“My God, woman, this dress.”

He stepped closer, watching her chest rise and fall in faster breaths as he ran the tip of his nose along her shoulder and up the side of her neck. Savoring the ease of her responses to him. He pressed his lips into her nape, smiling when she stuttered out, “Is-is that a yes for the dress, or a no?”

He laughed, deep and raspy, in her ear as he nuzzled his nose against it. “I believe it’s a threat that I’ll fight you if you change.” He placed another kiss right below her ear.

She smiled and reached behind her, touching the side of his face. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did today. I hope Greyson realizes all the work you put into this.”

“Whether he thanks me or not doesn’t matter. I did it for you.” He sank a firm kiss into the side of her neck, clamping down, and she took a sharp breath.

“Mmm ... ” He rubbed a finger over the fading mark he made, looking up to her flushed cheeks in the mirror and winked.

“Look at you,” she said. Her eyes trailed over his reflection. “I like blue on you.”

A shy, half-smile curved up his cheek, and he shrugged. Curling a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up and back. “Good, no lipstick yet.”

“Why is that important?”

“Because.” He drifted in and brushed his lips against hers. A sweet, delicate kiss that she returned with a heavy, open mouth. Danny froze for half a beat before he caved like the kiss-drunk man that he was.

Rubbing a thumb over her bottom lip, he opened it more and dove inside. Happy to find her welcoming him with a throaty hum. His hands slipped around her waist to her stomach, pressing her back against him. She clasped and intertwined their fingers.

Something in her grip and the eagerness of her kiss told him she needed this connection to calm the anxiety from Greyson. Hell, he needed it too.

She squeezed his hand, lowering it to her leg, and he forgot all about that thought. Forgot everything except how soft her skin felt as he traced the inner line of her thigh.

Arching her neck, she nipped his bottom lip, dragging a ragged breath out of him. His fingers dug into her thigh. Hand still attached, she moved his palm further up her leg and he slipped under the hem of her dress.

“Claire,” he whispered and fell heavier on her mouth.

Lips scooped and tongues entwined. All thoughts of taking it slow, gone. All he knew was her scent—her taste.

Anticipation pulsed in his ears as the skin under his hand grew softer—so soft. He reached the top inner curve of her left thigh and paused, circling. Long fingers gently squeezed his, and he swept right, brushing against soft lace.

“Claire? Greyson is here.” Emelie’s voice was a bucket of ice over Danny’s senses, and he peeled back, gasping for a breath.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Alright, coming,” he called, before Emelie got the idea to come looking for them. He groaned, lowered Claire’s dress, and placed his forehead against hers with one last squeeze to her thigh.

“Sorry.” She panted.

“That wasn’t me asking for an apology.”

“I don’t want to make things hard for you. It’s just ... ”

He took her face in his hands. “The only hard thing about this is that you’re incredibly irresistible.”

She smiled. Her cheeks tinted as he kissed each one, then her nose, her forehead—back to her cheeks. Anywhere but her mouth to keep from reattaching to it.

“I want you to know it’s not just about the physical for me,” she said.

“Whatever it’s about, I’m here for it.”

“These, right here?” She took his hands. “They make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I-I feel safe. Special.” Her eyes peered up under her eyelashes. “Wanted.”

“Yes.” He stared at her mouth. “You are.”

She kissed each of his palms before lowering them and interlacing their fingers. “But what’s more important to me is how what I do makes you feel. I don’t want you to be afraid of any of this.”

Her thoughtfulness and consideration overwhelmed him again, seeping into all the cracks and holes. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed her knuckles, his voice thick. “I want you to know that the more I’m with you, the less afraid I am.” Ducking a couple inches, he aligned their view. “And you aren’t making me do anything I don’t want to do.” He slowly smiled. “Really want to do. Now come. Let’s go see your son before I attack you again.”

“Wait.” She stopped short in the hallway. “I need to check something.” She rushed back to the mirror, touching and primping flawless hair. Picking up a hairpin, she shoved it where there wasn’t a single hair out of place.

“Claire?”

“Hmm?” She grabbed another hairpin.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

She looked up into the reflection, into his eyes, a hairpin halfway to her head.

“You didn’t know what Greyson eats or drinks and have been anxiously waiting for him to get here all day. Now he’s downstairs and you’re stalling. Why don’t you want to see your son?”

The hairpin fell from her fingers, rattling against the wood floor. She braced against the dresser. “That’s the problem, Daniel. He isn’t my son anymore.”

“What do you mean, he isn’t your son?”

“I should have told you sooner.” She gnawed on the side of her thumb. “It’s just hard for me to admit.”

He gently turned her and removed her finger from her teeth. “You can talk to me.”

She steeled herself with a deep breath. “Brandon and I got Greyson a driver, well, more like a bodyguard, when he started school. After Brandon died,” she stared down at the floor, “that driver assumed things about me and he ... ” Her eyes flicked to his and he went still.

“He what?”

She shook her head like she was trying to clear it, started to speak, stopped, then carefully chose her words. “He stepped out of line, and I sent him away.”

He spoke slowly. “Stepped out of line how?”

She waved a hand, saying that wasn’t what was important. “When he left, Greyson had a complete meltdown. After losing his father, I think losing someone else close to him was too much. Even when I told him he’d have full control over who was chosen next, it wasn’t enough.” Her eyes drifted over his shoulder and sad memories shifted across her expression. “He stopped speaking to me after that and locked himself in his room. At first, I thought, if I gave him time, he’d calm down and we could talk it out. But then the meals stopped disappearing at his door. I panicked and forced one of my security to open his door and ... ”

Danny removed her thumb from her teeth again, jolting her out of the memory.

Emotions swelled in her eyes, and she rushed out the words, “He’d crawled out the window, went to my parents’ home, told them he didn’t want to live with me anymore, and without talking to me, my parents had their very good lawyers deem me unfit and took custody of him.”

“They did what?”

“He hasn’t been mine for over a year.” Her voice broke, and she fanned her eyes. Danny wrapped himself around her. Frustration so keen because his body, his arms, couldn’t shelter her from this. “I should’ve fought for custody,” she whispered into his chest. “But knowing he didn’t want me anymore ... I had nothing left in me to fight with.”

His arms tightened, and he kissed the top of her head. “Sweetheart, you were both grieving. What he did was rash, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. Every child needs their mom, no matter how old they get.”

“Claire? Danny?” Ian interrupted, yelling up the stairs. “You guys coming?”

“Yes,” she called and dabbed under her eyes. “This is the first time he’s asked to come see me without having my parents there to scrutinize and prove they were right in taking him. I-I don’t know what this means.”

Danny ran a finger down the worry lines of her mouth. “Maybe he wants to mend things.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t he answer any of my texts?”

“Hey, you guys?” Fin yelled up. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

Danny cursed under his breath and removed her thumb from her teeth yet again. “Whatever it means, you’re not facing it alone, okay? I’ll be with you.” He took her hand.

After a slow, steady descent, they reached the tavern. She halted, gripping her chest. “Oh Daniel, the atmosphere. It’s so beautiful.”

Rows of Edison bulbs hung in swooping strands from the beams, illuminating white linen-covered tables pushed together in one long row. Interspersed down the center were mason jars filled with fairy-lights and vases of evergreens.

“How did you do all this?”

“He had help.” Emelie came from the kitchen and gasped, looking her over. “That dress is gorgeous.”

“You can have it if you want.”

Danny shot a glare at Emelie and shook his head.

She snickered. “Maybe I’ll just borrow it.”

“Where is he?” Claire craned her neck, looking over the friendly faces waiting in the dining room. She smiled and waved to them.

Gerty waved back with Gunner lying at her feet, and Ylva held up a basket of baked goods, smiling. Gene, Annie, and Clark greeted her with held up bottles of wine, and Merv waved several bottles of home-brew. George grunted but nodded in greeting.

“He’s at your table,” Emelie said.

Danny kept her shaking hand in his as they walked to the fireplace. She stopped short when they came upon a lean, young man slouching in a chair, loafers stretched toward the fire. His profile and light-brown hair were all Claire. But unlike her warmth, he was stiff, glaring at the fire as if the flame forced him to sit there. Definitely not the look Danny hoped to see on him.

Claire stepped forward. “Greyson?”

He turned, and his view dropped to their joined hands, back up to Danny, and darkened.

“Hi, baby.” She held out her arms, and he looked back into the fire, pretending not to notice her non-verbal request for a hug. She awkwardly dropped her arms and rubbed her hands together, forcing a smile. “I’d like you to meet Daniel Larsson.”

Danny held out a hand. Greyson looked at it, and without a word, stood and switched his attention back to her. “Hi, Madelynn.”

“Madel—” She took a step back. “You can still call me Mom.” When he didn’t answer, she swallowed and forced a smile again, opening her arms. “Can I please get a hug?”

“My back hurts.”

And that’s why he slouched in a chair? Danny’s eye twitched.

“What’s the matter?” Claire instinctively reached for him, but he twisted away.

Danny’s frown deepened. Like hell his back hurt.

“Lacrosse injury,” Greyson said.

“And no one told me?”

“Mother and the doctors said I should be fine.”

Claire went rigid. “Grandmother. She’s your grandmother, Greyson.”

Shrugging, he stepped around them, eyeing Flygande with a wrinkled nose. “What’s in there?” He nodded to an open door.

“My office,” Danny said.

Greyson poked his head in, eyes darting around.

“Don’t be rude.” Claire pulled on his arm.

“I don’t mind.” Danny pushed the door open wider, motioning inside.

“No thanks.” Greyson continued wandering Flygande, and his hand landed on the back of a wobbling chair. “Needs some updating, doesn’t it?”

“Greyson.” Claire tossed a silent apology to Danny, who gave her a small smile, unfazed.

“It’s over a century old,” he said. “I’d be worried if it didn’t.”

Greyson sniffed, and Danny smirked. If this kid was hoping to get a rise out of him, he’d have to try harder than that.

Greyson continued to scour the place with a critical eye. “How much debt you in?”

Danny stopped short. “Excuse me?”

“That bad, huh? I thought so.”

“Greyson Conner Johnson,” Claire snapped. “That’s enough.”

“Not nearly enough, Madelynn.”

Danny placed a touch to her back, helping her take a breath. With a grateful, whispered second apology to him, she silently followed her son until he stopped near the front door. His attention drew to a nearly invisible brown box hanging on the wall, and he stiffened.

“It’s a Jake Matthews’ System,” Claire said.

“Ah, that reminds me.” Danny pulled out his phone. “The lock is on a timer, and I need to switch it off so everyone’s not locked in here.”

He leaned against the wall, body blocking the view as he punched in a code he read from his phone. Turning, he smiled at Greyson. These systems weren’t cheap. Maybe that would shut him up.

“Do you remember when we met Jacob?” Claire asked Greyson. “You were so excited about his equipment. You followed him around the house asking a million questions.” She turned to Danny. “After graduation he’s going to school for computer engineering and—”

“I dropped out,” he said casually, studying the carved words over the bar.

“What do you mean, you dropped out?”

“Welcome, Family,” he scoffed. “How quaint.”

“Answer me, Greyson.”

Danny inwardly smiled. Not even Greyson was immune to a motherly tone. He sank a little, shoving his hands in his pockets. Danny watched him push it back down. Like Claire, only not for propriety but pride, and he straightened his spine, cocky smile returning.

“I was bored, and Mother said I didn’t need to go back if I didn’t want to,” he said. “I have a position ready for me at Cooke’s Holdings if I want it.”

Claire’s fingers squeezed together. “You never expressed a desire to work there.”

“Things change.” He glanced between her and Danny. “Besides, I know more than most of those kids anyway.”

“Then work ahead and graduate early. You don’t drop out.”

He bent his head until they were eye level. Danny started forward and stopped, holding himself back from stepping in between. This was her son. It wasn’t his place.

“Well, it’s a good thing it’s not up to you anymore, isn’t it, Madelynn.”

Claire jerked back, touching her cheek like he’d slapped her, and for the briefest moment, Greyson’s coldness vanished. Like he felt how deep his words cut and regretted it. Maybe good sense was finally kicking in? But when Danny couldn’t resist the stricken expression on her face and let his hand graze her arm with the briefest touch, Greyson’s coldness slid back into place.

“Quick to replace Dad with the Viking, huh?”

Claire went utterly still. “What’d you just say?” she whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“You used his words.” She stepped closer, her body vibrating. “You would’ve overheard your father and I. You dropped out of school. You know about electronic equipment. You have means.” She took another step. “God, Greyson. Tell me you’re not so angry at me that you would haunt me.”

Danny’s eyes bounced back and forth between them. Why did she ask him that when Kenneth admitted to it?

Greyson took a step back. “Are you drunk?”

“Why did you call Daniel that? The Viking.”

His eyes sprang wide and he cleared his throat. “Uh ... ” Danny watched him shift from one foot to the other. He was missing something.

Greyson smoothed his hair and expression back to nonchalance. “Have you looked at this thrift store décor? Obviously, he’s pretending to be a Viking.”

“Are you serious?” George bellowed from the other side of the room and Merv gripped his arm, yanking him back behind the tables. Everyone who’d been pretending not to eavesdrop, quickly turned and actively tried to start conversations with each other.

“He’s Swedish, Greyson,” Claire said. “He’s not pretending to be. And if you took the time to actually look, you’d see these are authentic antiques, not knock-offs. Even if they were from a thrift store, what right do you have to speak to him this way?”

“Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

“Yes, he’s being a completely hospitable host to you.”

Greyson leaned in and whispered, “That’s because he’s hoping to snag the rich girl.”

“That’s enough.”

“Tell me you aren’t this na?ve, Madelynn.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

“Who’s hungry?” Ian said as he, Emelie, and Fin emerged from the kitchen with nine different food dishes between them. They froze. The entire room was in eerie silence.

“Yes, time to eat,” Danny said, and the group on the left side that had definitely not been eavesdropping came alive, thanking him for the dinner invitation. He acknowledged them, but kept his eyes on Claire and Greyson. Something was definitely off with that kid.

Claire schooled away all her frustrations and tapped a knife against a glass to get everyone’s attention. “I’d like you all to meet my son, Greyson Johnson. Greyson, these are my friends.” She introduced them by name, and he nodded to each one in response.

Danny held out a chair for her and Greyson rolled his eyes. Danny’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing, taking the seat across from Claire.

“Would you like some limpa bread?” Ylva smiled at Greyson, passing down a basket.

“Eggs or butter in it?”

“Yes, there’s butter.”

He pushed the basket back. “I’m vegan.”

“Since when?” Claire asked as she took the basket and removed two steaming slices. “This looks delicious, Ylva, thank you.”

“If you paid attention, you’d know it’s been a while.”

The table went quiet except for an indignant, “what that kid needs is a drill sergeant in his face,” from George, quickly followed by a “hush,” from Merv.

“I can leave.”

“No.” Claire caught Greyson’s arm. “Please stay. We’ll figure out something for you to eat.” She sent a desperate look to Danny.

“I have vegan.” He went to the other end of the table and brought back three dishes.

Greyson sniffed at the stir-fry. “Hate broccoli.”

The more he pushed, Danny decided, the more placid he’d become. Steeling his features, he removed the stir-fry and shoved two other dishes in front of him, smiling.

Greyson hmphed. “Surprised to find authentic Indian food on this island.”

Claire opened to tell him Danny made them, but he tapped her foot under the table with a small shake of his head. Greyson would eat it so long as he didn’t know who made it.

“Is this your first time to our island?” Annie, who sat next to Claire, attempted to bring Greyson into conversation.

“Yes,” is all he answered without looking at her, and shoveled a large bite of cauliflower curry.

“Greyson,” Claire said.

“I’m not bothered one bit,” Annie whispered. “I’ve fostered many boys like him. He’s angry, but he’ll be alright.” She squeezed Claire’s forearm and directed conversations away from them, saving Claire from more humiliation.

Danny gave her a grateful nod as Claire spooned chana masala onto her plate, cautiously eyeing her son. “How have you been?”

He raised his head, looking her in the eye. “Been the best year of my life.”

One punch. Just one punch in his stupid mouth should do it. Danny squeezed that thought into his tightening fists and tapped her shoe with his, catching her eye. Breathe for me. He ran the tip of his boot up and down her calf, holding her gaze. Slowly, air eased out of her lungs and then her foot hooked the back of his leg in a silent hug.

“Claire?” Gerty called down the table. “Have you been out to your cottage lately?”

“I haven’t had a chance.”

Gerty’s brow furrowed. “There were fresh prints out back when I took Gunner for a walk there this morning. Aren’t the contractors finished?”

Greyson choked and coughed.

“Are you okay?” Claire patted his back. “That was my understanding,” she said to Gerty.

Greyson shrugged off her patting and met Danny’s raised brow with another glare.

“It’s Thanksgiving break,” Annie said. “Probably some bored teens.”

“Maybe.” Gerty nodded. “Wait ’til you see how it’s come back to life again. Even new flower boxes were installed.”

“My flower boxes.” Claire smiled and turned to Greyson. “The cottage I rented here turned out to be a rip-off. I got them, though. Low-balled them for the inconvenience, and now it’s mine. Want to see it?”

“You bought a house here? Why would you do that?”

Claire glanced at Danny. “If things work out, I-I think I’d like to stay.”

Greyson threw down his napkin. “For him?”

“Well, I—”

“It’s highly sought-after real estate,” Ian said, as he, Emelie, and Fin joined everyone at the table. His firm squeeze to Danny’s shoulder reminded him he absolutely couldn’t hit this kid. “Lots of people want to move here and can’t.”

“Well, isn’t she lucky.” Greyson’s watch beeped, and he shoved back his chair, standing.

“Where are you going?” Claire stood.

“To the car,” he wiped his mouth, “that’s getting me off this damn island.”

“Language.” She paused. “I mean, please stay so we can talk this out.”

“You’ve forgotten my father. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“I could never forget him.” She lowered her voice and caught his arm, steering him from the table, but he wouldn’t budge. “My relationship with Daniel may seem fast to you, but it’s not. We’re taking it slow. And there’s so much more I should’ve told you sooner. I see that now. Things between your father and I weren’t good for many years because he wasn’t well,” she tapped her head, “up here. I never told you because I wanted you to have a normal childhood without our drama.”

“Are you seriously trying to claim my father, the Brandon Johnson, famous psychiatrist, was crazy?”

“I never said he was crazy. He got into psychiatry to help people like himself because he struggled with childhood traumas. The same traumas that made him incapable of showing me affection.”

“That’s the story you’re going with so you can justify being with this sponger?”

“Don’t speak about Daniel that way.”

He puffed a laugh. “You know, I’ve known you were many things, Madelynn, but desperate for a fuck wasn’t one of them.”

Ian’s arm shot out across Danny’s chest right before Claire’s hand cracked across Greyson’s face. Horror filled her gaping eyes as she watched a handprint bloom on her son’s cheek.

“I-I’m sorry Greyson.” Her voice wavered. “But you ... that was ... take it back.”

“No.” He started for the door.

Claire followed. “Why are you behaving this way? Is this all really because of him?”

Greyson’s teeth clenched. “He has a name.”

“A name I won’t say after what he did to—” She darted a look at Danny and he stopped mid-step toward her. Was this the driver she mentioned earlier? “There’s something I need to tell you about him,” she said. “Will you listen?”

“Why should I?” He bumped hard into Danny on his way to the door, stumbling. Danny caught him, and Greyson shoved him off.

“Greyson, wait.” Claire chased him.

“Enjoy your new family, because I’m blocking your number.”

“You’re my family. I can’t lose you again.”

The last line was said in a whisper, but Danny felt the roar of it inside him. He was desperate. Needed to stop the blow Greyson’s darkening expression promised. His body moved closer to her.

“You never had me back, Madelynn.” Greyson yanked open the door.

She drove into it, making it slam. “Please.” She pressed shaking fingers over her mouth.

“Move.”

“Don’t leave like this, baby. Look at me. I love you.” She touched a small curl of hair over his ear. “I know I should have fought harder for you.”

He snapped his head away from her touch. “Not caring about me is the best thing you could’ve done.”

“I do care. You mean everything to me.”

Danny’s hand instinctively reached for her when Greyson’s head slowly turned. “Well, Madelynn, you mean nothing to me.” He yanked open the door, making her stumble back, and with one more hard look at Danny, tore outside.

A deafening hush fell over the table, and all eyes turned toward Claire. Gerty held back a growling Gunner, while Merv and Gene joined George’s quiet curses. Ylva grabbed Annie’s hand, who sent up silent prayers while clinging to Clark’s tense arm. Ian stood beside Danny, fists opening and closing, while Fin’s eyes tracked Emelie’s fingers swiping under her eyes.

“Claire?” Danny whispered.

Her posture went rigid. Madelynn taking a protective front and center as she turned to face them. “I-I’m sorry for my son’s behavior.” Her mouth wobbled, and she squeezed her hands together in front of her. “He’s been through a lot with his father’s death, and I failed him when he needed me the most. I ... I’m grateful you all came to—it means so much that—” Her voice broke. “Please, excuse me.”

Danny chased after her, up the stairs and into his room. Inside the door, she stumbled, voice cracking on a whispered, “Greyson.” Her knees buckled, and he caught her mid-fall.

“Claire?” All the color drained from her face and her eyes rolled back. “Claire.” He swept under her legs and rushed her to the bed. “Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.” He held her and rocked her on his lap, brushing damp hair away from her face. He should have stepped in sooner. Should have stopped it. “Please, wake up.”

Her face grew paler.

“Shit.” Easing her from his shaking arms, he rushed for the door, yelling, “Doc Clark.”