Chapter 23

[Mavis]

I hadn’t forgotten about the man I’d seen across the street from Halle and Knox’s house when we left the party. I just needed some time to gather my thoughts.

Plus, I needed Clay to not be around when I made the call I had to make. I didn’t want to disrupt his life anymore than I already had. I also wanted to keep him from the darker parts of my past. I wanted to protect him, and that meant taking care of my concerns on my own.

“Daddy.” I sigh into the phone when he answers with a grunt. “You got someone following me?” Too easily, I fall into the broken vocabulary he uses so he’ll understand me. I’m angry.

“Well, hello to you, too, prodigal girl.”

I huff. I wasn’t a prodigal. I’d returned home, I just didn’t want to stay.

“Hi, Dad. How are you? Who is tailing me?” I pause as he chuckles, deep and hearty. My father is a proud man, and his attitude matches his large stature.

“I wish we had men to spare, baby girl, but we don’t. What’s going on?” His tone becomes tighter, and I hear the creak of a desk chair through the phone. My mind casts images of his office. The dated paneling. The walls hung with road memorabilia. The scent of worn leather, cigarettes and cheap cologne permeating the air.

I don’t really want to tell him what happened with Dutton. He’ll demand I bring his grandson to him where he can keep an eye on Dutton. Make him a man , which was no different than what the guy the other night said, even if their means are vastly different. Dutton didn’t need to be a man. He needed to be a six- year-old child for now. He needed space to roam and a safe place to live.

“I’m not certain. Maybe it’s nothing.” However, whoever was lingering across the street that night, I’d bet money I didn’t have that he was the same person who bumped into me at the Harvest Festival a week ago. And that he was somehow connected to my dad’s club. A friend or foe, or otherwise.

“Tell me what happened.” His voice turns more commanding, and I cave, because this is Dutton we’re discussing. Despite our differing opinion on how Dutton should be raised, we both loved him. He was a constant reminder of Cecilia and our last connection to her.

“Son of a bitch,” Dad bellows once I’m finished. “I’m sending someone up there.”

“I thought you didn’t have anyone to spare?” I sigh. “Plus, I don’t want any trouble.” I’m in Sterling Falls to be away from club business and trouble. It’s the reason I went off to nursing school and then stayed away, working long hours at the hospital before Cecilia fell under the spell of a not-so-great guy, had a child he refused to claim, and then lost her life.

Good riddance to Scar . The name earned by a giant gash to his right cheek.

My thoughts momentarily flit to Clay. He’s so . . . normal . . . compared to how I was raised. The things I’ve seen and wished I could scrub from my memory. I just wanted a quiet life, a good life, and then I’d made some poor choices, like trusting Wesley.

“Sounds like you’re in trouble anyway, baby.” My dad’s voice intends to soothe. However, he doesn’t say anything I haven’t already been thinking. Trouble might be here. Again.

And the worst part, is I don’t want to hurt Clay in the fray.

+ + +

November starts out surprisingly mild. Clay comes home every night, and we hang out like a family. I’m in his bed every night as well, and life is good. Too good. I’m comfortable with us, and where I’m at, and the arrangement is dangerous as we don’t discuss the future. I refuse to make the same mistakes as I had in the past, and every once in a while, I worry I’m on the same destructive path. Having faith in someone so quickly and easily.

Dutton and I should really get our own place. I can still date Clay, spend time with him, with the three of us, but I should give Dutton and I some space that’s all our own. We need a home. Not that Clay’s house isn’t great. It’s small but cozy and there is so much land around the place.

The following Saturday, Dutton is up early and I’m making him breakfast when Clay enters the kitchen.

“Dutton, my friend, how do you feel about spending the day with Violet? Do you remember meeting her last week? She’s Halle and Knox’s girl.”

The newly seventeen-year-old is a high school lacrosse star and steady babysitter among the Sylver family. She also works part-time at Sylver Seed & Soil. She’s a sweet girl from what I’ve seen of her interactions with the younger set of kids in the Sylver family.

“What’s going on?” I ask, a bit put off that Clay hasn’t asked me if it’s okay that Dutton spend a day with Violet, and for what purpose.

Leaning against the back of a kitchen chair, Clay glances up at me, a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. And I remind myself this is Clay. I can trust him.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

“Can I go?” Dutton asks, his eyes hopeful as he looks up at Clay.

Clay offers him a reassuring smile. “Maybe another day. But today, I’d like some time with just your mom.” He winks at Dutton.

“Like a date?” Dutton’s face turns pink.

“Maybe.” Clay draws out. “That okay with you?”

Asking Dutton’s permission sort of wins me over, even if I wish he’d asked me first. I can’t remember the last time I was on a date, with Wesley or otherwise.

Dutton shrugs. “Sure.” He lowers his head, returning to his French toast.

“Maybe you and me could have a special day, too. Soon. If that’s okay with your mom?” Clay’s attention turns to me.

“Oh, now you’re asking my permission?” I giggle.

“Am I doing this backward?” His brows cinch before releasing, realizing he might have forgotten a step. He crosses the small space and leans into the counter near the stove, placing his hand on my lower back.

“Want to spend the day with me, beautiful?”

I smile back at him. Who can resist that face, and the sudden hesitation in his eyes? As if I’d say no.

“Of course, honey.”

He smiles, lighting up his entire face. Without a care for Dutton’s presence, he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. I glance at Dutton when Clay pulls back, but my son hasn’t noticed, or he doesn’t have a reaction if he did.

“And what about a day with Dutton?” Clay raises a brow. “Something just for us.”

“That sounds nice, too.” Dutton would love it and it would be good for him. Like father and son time.

The thought hits me so hard I almost drop the spatula I’m holding. A brief moment of panic sets in.

Is that good for Dutton? Is it fair to Clay?

As his hand coasts up my arm and squeezes the back of my neck, I settle into the warmth of his touch. He’s been so good to us, to me. With a deep breath, I smile back at him. His brows pinch again, knowing something concerned me when I was lost in my head a second, but he lets it go, noticing it was only momentary on my end.

“Okay then. A date with Mom. And then one day soon, a date with Dutton.”

Dutton chuckles. “That’s what mom calls special days. Date with Mom days.”

Clay playfully purses his lips but sadness washes over his face. “I like that. I didn’t have enough of those with my mom.”

Dutton looks up, eyes wide. “You had Date with Mom days, too?”

“I sure did.” Clay helps himself to the coffee and notices my cup is half full. He tops it off.

“Where is your mom?”

“She’s in heaven.” Clay rests his backside against the counter near me while addressing Dutton. “I lost her when I was ten.”

Dutton’s gaze leaps to me, almost begging to say something. I nod, as if I can read his thoughts. We can trust Clay to keep our secrets.

“My mama died when I was still a baby. May-May took me in, and now she’s my mama.”

Clay softly smiles, watching Dutton. “Lucky you, you have two mamas who love you so much, they shared you with each other.”

Dutton thinks about that a second before nodding. “And where is your dad?”

Clay’s shoulders lift as he takes a deep inhale. “I suppose he might be in heaven as well, but he doesn’t deserve it.”

“My granddaddy says my father can rot in hell.”

“Dutton!” I shriek.

“Well, it’s true.” He shrugs, swinging his legs beneath the table like he knows he said a bad word and got away with it.

Clay chuckles. “Maybe it is true.”

“Clay,” I turn on him, feeling outnumbered while not disagreeing with either of them. Scar can rot in hell, or whatever rock he rolled underneath, which is far away from here.

He laughs, leans over and kisses my shoulder then takes a fresh plate of French toast to the table to sit opposite Dutton.

“Change of subject. What are we doing today?”

“Can I surprise you?” Clay lifts his gaze, eyes hopeful.

I smile in return, finding the curve of my mouth comes too easily around him. He’s comfortable.

And that scares the hell out of me.