Chapter Two

Tanner

"What did you put in our sandwiches, Dad?"

"Ham and cheese, just like you said." Nash looks up at me and nods his blond head, then bolts out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" I call after him, grabbing some apples from the bowl on the countertop.

"I just wanna check something."

I smile, shaking my head. What he means is, he wants to take a last look at his bedroom. We spent most of yesterday putting in his new furniture, and although he'll be back again next weekend, he's excited about it. We may have had an extra day together, because school doesn't start until tomorrow, but I get the feeling he doesn't want to go back to his mom's just yet… although that's not optional.

That's the deal she and I did when we got divorced… like our son was a bargaining chip to be passed back and forth between us. It shouldn't have been that way, but that's how it became, and I hated every second.

I drop some bottled water into the backpack and zip it up, leaving it in the living room before I head upstairs to change my shoes. As I sit on the edge of the bed to tie my laces, I look around the room. I like it in here… or I do since I redecorated, and I glance at the corner, picturing the bathroom I keep thinking about putting in. It would be so much more convenient than having to go downstairs all the time, and this room is certainly big enough. The problem is money… or a lack of it, and I sigh, getting to my feet and trotting down the stairs again.

"We've gotta leave soon, Nash, or we'll run out of time."

He comes flying out of his bedroom and throws himself into my arms. I catch him, laughing, and swing him around before he reaches up and hugs me.

"Thanks for my new room, Dad."

"Hey… you're welcome. It was long overdue."

At eight, he'd seriously outgrown the furniture and decor in his room. I took advantage of his mom's sudden need for a last-minute vacation in Mexico and used his absence to repaint the walls and fix his new bed. I left the choice of closet and writing desk to Nash, though. He chose well, and didn't mind in the slightest that the budget had to be limited, or that they'd need constructing. In fact, he's enjoyed helping me with it, and the end result looks great.

"Is it time to go?" he says as I lower him to the floor, and I nod my head.

"We'll have our picnic at the creek and then I'll take you back to your mom's."

"Okay."

He keeps hold of my hand as I pick up the backpack, throwing it over my shoulder, and then check my pockets, making sure I've got my keys and phone before we head off.

The creek is only a short walk from my apartment and once we're there, Nash pulls his hand from mine, kicking off his shoes.

"It's okay if I go in, isn't it?" he says, with a sparkle in his bright blue eyes, even as he starts down the bank.

"Sure, but don't expect me to come with you."

He giggles and leaps into the water, oblivious to the stones beneath his feet as he splashes around. He looks just like me, and nothing like his mother, and I'm grateful for that. It's one small mercy that I don't have to face her likeness every time I look at him. I sit on the grass, the backpack beside me, laughing as he soaks himself. I'm relieved I remembered to bring a towel, and I smile down at my beloved son, remembering how it used to be when all three of us came here as a family. That was before it all went wrong… before I realized I was the only one trying to keep us together, and that having my heart crushed wasn't helping. It was just hurting more and more.

Naturally, it would have been better if we'd been able to split up amicably, and I tried. I really did. It was Sabrina who made things tough, right from the beginning.

To be honest, that's never made sense to me. After all, she was the one who cheated. She was the one who walked away from our marriage, straight into the arms of another man.

A man called Reuben.

I know that because she dropped his name into our last big fight. That's to say it was the last big fight while we were still living together… the one where I told her I knew she was screwing around again, that I'd seen them together, I'd had enough and wanted out. We found more than enough to yell about once the divorce proceedings started, but that moment sticks in the memory.

"Reuben told me you'd react like this," she said with a smug grin on her face.

"Like what?"

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react. I'd just found her having sex with another man. She'd admitted it wasn't a one-off, but a long-term affair. What did she expect? Was I meant to hang out the flags?

I didn't feel like flags. I felt like punching someone. Reuben, probably.

The thing was, he wasn't the first. I was pretty damn sure he wouldn't be the last, either. Only I'd stopped caring about things like that by then. I'd stopped caring about Sabrina. Period.

I'd never spent a moment of my adult life without her at least somewhere in the vicinity, even if it transpired she hadn't been by my side for some time. That meant it took me a long while to adjust to being single again.

I'm there now, though. She's history.

My weekdays are defined by the bookstore I own on Main Street, and my weekends are dictated by Nash, and whatever he wants to do. As for seeing someone else, I haven't gotten around to that yet. I'm not writing it off and I certainly don't plan to spend the rest of my life alone, but I'm taking my time, because I don't want to get it wrong again. I didn't think I had with Sabrina… but I did, and that's not a mistake I'll be making twice.

I don't think it took Sabrina long to get used to the single life. Let's face it, she was living like a single woman, even when we were married. Her personal life is just as much of a mystery to me now as it was then, and I'm happy for it to stay that way. I know Reuben didn't last. Once he realized Nash was a permanent part of the deal, he lost interest. As for what she did after that? Who knows?

I'm pretty sure there's someone on the scene. There usually is. Not that I care, but why else would she have been so adamant she didn't want me to collect Nash from her place on Friday evening?

"I'll drop him off," she said, when I started talking about times. I get fed up negotiating with her every week, but it's been that way throughout the entire summer. When Nash is at school, it's a lot easier. I collect him from the schoolyard on a Friday afternoon, he spends the weekend with me, and I and take him back to his mom's place on Sunday evening. She and I barely have to see each other. During the school recess, things are different, and she likes to move the goalposts as often as possible. Like that vacation in Mexico… although I don't want to think about that. It still makes me mad that she took Nash away with just a few days' notice, and that she expected me to pay for their flights and hotel. But that's just typical of Sabrina. She has to have everything her way. Kinda like the arrangements for this weekend.

"Why?" I asked. "I can easily pick him up, and…"

"I already said I'll drop him off." She had an inflexible tone to her voice that I knew only too well.

"Okay. When?"

I didn't want her stealing any of my time with Nash, and wondered if that was her ploy.

"It'll need to be early… sometime between two and two-thirty." She wasn't asking, she was telling, but I didn't mind. It would give me some extra time with Nash, so I agreed, assuming she probably had someone going over to her place and didn't want me interrupting them.

"Fine. I'll bring him back on Monday evening." She'd already reminded me about twenty times that school wasn't starting until Tuesday, and we'd agreed it made sense for Nash to stay on with me for the extra day.

"No. I'll pick him up," she said.

"That doesn't work for me, Sabrina. Katie's gonna close the store for me on Monday so I can take Nash for a picnic, and then I'm going out once I've dropped him back at your place."

"Are you seeing someone?" she asked, her voice a little harsher than usual… which was saying something.

"It's none of your damn business what I'm doing."

She prevaricated a little, but I wasn't about to let her spoil my plans to have drinks with Dawson at his bar. She did her best to spoil everything else, so I stuck to my guns.

"Fine," she said eventually, and hung up.

It felt weird, scoring points over her, but even now the victory feels hollow compared to what we've lost.

We used to be a family. I used to see my son whenever I wanted. He's the only thing I don't regret out of all those wasted years, but now I have to make an appointment just to say hello. Although, to be fair, I still see quite a lot of him. More than a lot of divorced dads, anyway. He stays with me every weekend, and sometimes during the week, too, if his mom feels like asking. Not that she asks. She tells. That's fine with me, though. I love having Nash around. We have a great relationship, and he knows he can talk to me about anything. He's been a little quieter than usual this weekend, but I guess I can understand that. He's going back to school tomorrow. That's enough to depress anyone. I asked him yesterday if he was okay and he said he was, so I have to believe him. On the bright side, the excitement of his new bedroom means he hasn't once asked me to get him a dog. That makes a change. Over the course of the summer, he's brought it up at least four or five times every weekend, and saying ‘no' was getting boring… and a lot harder.

"Are we gonna eat these sandwiches or not?" I call out and he looks up, then comes running, splashing through the water. I watch as he climbs out, pulling the sandwiches from the bag, followed by the towel I stashed at the bottom, which I wrap around him, dragging him down beside me.

"Do you think Mom will be mad at me?" he says, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a huge bite.

"What for?"

"My clothes are soaked, Dad."

"She'll blame me for that, don't worry."

She blames me for everything else. And what's more, I don't care.

After we've eaten, Nash spends a little more time splashing around and exploring, but at just before six, I call him over.

"We've gotta go, buddy." He looks disappointed, his shoulders dropping, and while I try not to feel triumphant about that, it's hard not to rejoice at the thought that he'd rather spend time with me than return to his mother.

Call me petty, if you want. It's close to the truth.

And deep down, I know it's not personal. Nash isn't taking sides. It's just that his life with his mom is more rigid. It revolves around school, and homework, and fixed bedtimes. With me, he gets more freedom… and that's no-one's fault.

"Can we come back next weekend?" he asks.

"Sure. As long as the weather holds up."

He nods his head and, without me even asking, helps to clear away our things into the backpack, and then takes my hand as we start the walk back to the store.

We don't need to go inside. Nash has everything he needs to survive a few days here with me, so hardly ever brings anything with him, and I throw the backpack into the trunk, helping him into the rear passenger seat before I climb in behind the wheel.

"The seat's getting wet," he says and I smile at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Don't worry. It'll dry."

He grins and I drive along the back of Dawson's parking lot. It's already quite full, and I'm relieved I won't need to park there later.

"Have you enjoyed the weekend?" I ask, glancing in the mirror again.

Nash nods his head, but doesn't reply. He's probably tired, after such a busy few days, but it was good for us to spend so much time together, and I know he really likes his writing desk. Writing and reading are two of his favorite hobbies, which I guess is hardly a surprise when he's been brought up around books. But at least the weekend hasn't all been about work, and we've had a great time down by the creek… although I know I'll pay for it when we get back to Sabrina's and she sees the state of his clothes.

We make the rest of the journey in silence, and on the few occasions when I glance back at Nash, I notice he's gazing out the window, with a faraway look on his face. I wonder if he's thinking about his bedroom, or about starting school tomorrow, and I recall how much I used to hate the last day of the summer recess, when it felt like all the fun was about to end… forever.

Of course, it wasn't. There would be another recess… and another, and another. But it didn't feel that way at the time.

I park outside Sabrina's house, which is a modern, sterile, three-bedroom place on the edge of Willmont Vale. It's not somewhere I'd want to live, but it's Sabrina's choice, not mine.

I'm just paying for it.

And I guess I should be grateful she moved out of Hart's Creek when we split up. We may only be six miles apart, but it's enough. At least there's no danger of us bumping into each other, and it saved me from having to move myself.

We're both natives of Hart's Creek, and initially, I thought she might make things difficult and insist I should be the one to leave town. I'd prepared my argument… namely that I have a bookstore on Main Street which is impossible to relocate. Part of me expected Sabrina to argue that she had her own business too, and I'd even decided on my counter-argument, which was going to be that moving an interior design company was much simpler… especially when she used to travel to visit her clients, while mine have to come to my store.

As it happened, she didn't raise any objections at all, and announced quite calmly that she would be the one to move… like she was doing me a favor.

I guess, in a way, she was.

Although it was hard to be grateful, considering what she'd done.

I get out of the car, opening the rear door for Nash, and he climbs down, the two of us walking up the footpath together, although I leave Nash to ring the doorbell.

One day, he'll be old enough to have a key of his own, and personally, I can't wait. It'll mean I won't have to make polite noises on the doorstep anymore.

I feel myself tense at the sound of Sabrina's voice, although I can't make out what she's saying – or rather, yelling – and then the door opens, and I take a half step back, looking up into the face of a very handsome young man. And by ‘young', I mean probably no older than twenty-five. He's wearing sweatpants and a vest top, which shows off his muscular build, as well as his tan and the tattoos that decorate his arms and shoulders. His light brown hair is tousled, like he just got out of bed… which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest, knowing Sabrina.

He smiles down at Nash, like he knows him, and then moves back to let him into the house.

"See you Friday, Dad," Nash says, turning to me as he steps up over the threshold.

"Sure." I do my best to smile, despite my confusion… a feeling that doesn't seem to be mirrored by my son, who's obviously familiar with this man.

At that moment, Sabrina appears, grabbing the man by the arm. "I told you, I'd get the door," she says through gritted teeth, and there's a part of me that almost feels sorry for the guy. I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of my ex-wife's wrath, and I get the feeling he's about to find out for himself.

"I know what you said, honey, but don't you think it's time you told your ex about me?"

His eyes are fixed on me, but I tilt my head at Sabrina, and then realize Nash is still standing behind her.

"I think you'd better go upstairs," I say, and she turns her head, noticing him, too.

Luckily for Nash, she's too distracted to remark on his wet clothes, and simply mutters, "Do as your father says."

Nash glances at me and I nod my head, waiting until he's disappeared up the stairs before I return my gaze to my former wife.

"What is it you're supposed to be telling me?"

"Nothing," she says, narrowing her eyes.

I shake my head at her and turn my attention to the young man. "If she's not gonna tell me who you are, do you wanna do the honors?"

He holds out his hand. "Sure. I'm Dean. I'm Sabrina's boyfriend."

I glare at his hand until he realizes I'm not about to respond, and then he lowers it again, looking embarrassed.

"Is he living here?" I say, addressing my question to Sabrina.

"Of course I am," Dean replies before she can even open her mouth. "I have been for over a month."

I glance back at him. "So you went on vacation with them?"

"Yeah. It was great. Just what we needed."

"I'm sure it was." I turn to Sabrina again. "Did I pay for his ticket, too?"

"I could hardly leave him here by himself, could I?" she says, barely controlling her temper.

I'm taking that as a ‘yes'. "For fuck's sake…" I mutter under my breath.

Sabrina holds up her hand. "Don't start, Tanner. I'm not in the mood."

Dean huffs out a breath, putting his arm around Sabrina, although I notice she doesn't lean in to him. She doesn't pull away, either, but she's far from comfortable.

"Sabrina didn't want to tell you about us," Dean says, obviously assuming a change of subject might help the situation. "But I think it'll be better for everyone if we can be honest."

"I couldn't agree more, although you'll find honesty isn't Sabrina's thing." My reply seems to surprise him, and he releases her, pulling himself up to his full height before he steps out of the house. That means I get to look down on him, and while moving outside hasn't diminished his muscles, like it has his height advantage, I'm not intimidated. I'm mad.

I'm also more than capable of holding my own, and I glare down at him. "What does that mean?" he growls.

"You'll work it out. And now I need to speak with my ex-wife, so would you excuse us?"

He takes a couple of deep breaths, puffing out his considerable chest, but then backs down and stomps into the house. I hear a door slam in the distance and Sabrina lets out a sigh, joining me on the doorstep.

I can't deny how beautiful she is. I can still remember the softness of her porcelain-smooth skin, but I don't feel a thing for her anymore. Sure, her hair might be the color of mahogany, and her eyes might still have those tiny brown speckles amidst their gray-green background, but I know what she's capable of. I know what she can do to a man…

"What's wrong with you? Why are you being like this?" she says, speaking before I get the chance. "My personal life has nothing to do with you."

"I know. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you do, or who you do it with… until it affects Nash. At that moment, it becomes my business, whether you like it or not."

She shakes her head. "What makes you think that Dean living here has any effect on him?"

"Because you've introduced another man into his life. How can that not affect him? You must have realized that… and if you didn't, why have you been so desperate to keep Dean's existence a secret from me?"

"I haven't."

"Really? Then why am I only hearing about it now… from Dean?" I fold my arms across my chest. "This is why you didn't want me to come over here to collect Nash on Friday, isn't it? It's also why you were so keen to pick him up from my place today." She doesn't reply. But she doesn't need to. "Why couldn't you just be honest, Sabrina?"

"Because I knew you'd be jealous," she says, her eyes sparking with anger.

"I'm not jealous. I just want you to tell the truth for once in your life. Is that too much to ask?"

"Would you tell me if you somehow persuaded someone to move into your crumby little apartment?"

I ignore her insults. I'm immune to them now. "Yes, I would."

She shakes her head, like she doesn't believe me, and steps a little closer. "You need to remember, we're through."

"Thank God," I mutter and she sucks in a sharp breath, turning on her heel and slamming back into the house. As the door closes, I hold up my hand to stop it, because I'm not done yet. But I'm too late, and while I'm mad enough to hammer on it, I don't want Nash to hear. There's every chance he's already heard our raised voices, so it's best to leave it for now. I make my way back to the car, getting inside before I pull out my phone, look up his number and connect a call.

He might only be eight, but I got him a basic phone not long after Sabrina and I split up. At the very beginning, he was having to go through her if he wanted to speak to me, and sometimes she'd make it difficult. I didn't like that, so I resolved it the only way I could, without resorting to yet another fight. I sigh deeply, trying to calm down, and put my phone onto speaker, resting it on my leg while I wait for him to pick up, which he does on the fourth ring.

"Hey, buddy. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you with your mom?"

"No. I'm still upstairs in my room. She's downstairs, yelling at Dean. I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him. Mom said I wasn't allowed to."

"It's okay." I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening. It's not okay. How dare she involve our son in her lies? "Is that why you've been kinda quiet?"

"Yeah. That and going back to school."

"No-one likes going back to school, and as for Dean, don't worry about it."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not."

"I—I heard you and mom yelling."

I could kick myself, and I shake my head, lowering it at the same time. "I'm sorry, Nash. We shouldn't have let that happen. None of this is your fault, and no matter what we say to each other, your mom and I love you very much. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

He sounds happier already and I have to smile. "I'll see you Friday, but if you wanna talk after school tomorrow, give me a call."

"I might just do that," he says, sounding older than his years, and my smile widens.

"Love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad."

We end our call and I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and start the engine, setting off for home. Despite my call with Nash, I'm still livid.

I'm beyond livid.

It's not just the fact that Dean is living with my son, it's Sabrina's attitude to the whole thing… to moving him in without telling me, the tickets to Mexico, swearing Nash to secrecy. All of it.

Why does she think she can do whatever she pleases? I mean… who does she think she is?

And more to the point, what can I do about it?

Drive a lot faster than usual, it seems. I'm gripping the steering wheel, my right foot heavy on the gas as I get to Hart's Creek, having made the journey in record time.

How can she do this? Her personal life might be a mystery to me, but I know for a fact that a couple of months ago, she was dating someone called Jarod. That means, in the space of just a few weeks, she's ditched Jarod, met Dean, and moved him into her house. Does she even know him? Did she bother to find out about him before she lured him into her bed?

I doubt it.

I shake my head as I make the turn into Maple Street and park my car behind the store. I might be due to go to Dawson's place tonight, but I'm not very good company right now, and in any case, I need to check out the window at the front of the store. Katie and I have spent the last week creating a special ‘back to school' display. We've never attempted anything like it before, and although we occasionally thought we'd bitten off more than we could chew, we got it finished this morning. The problem is, having Nash here and focusing on his bedroom means I haven't had time to look at it from the outside. Katie has, and told me it looks fabulous, but I'd like to see it for myself.

After I've locked my car, I stride around onto Main Street, my head down, still full of thoughts of Dean. I'm not jealous. I'm mad. And getting madder by the minute.

I clench and unclench my fists as I walk, trying and failing to calm myself, and wondering if there's anything I can do about the situation. Dean's already living there, so it feels as though anything I do would be too little, too late, and in any case, I…

I walk straight into someone, startling out of my daydream as I knock them flying.

"Jesus. I'm so sorry," I say, bending to help the poor woman from the sidewalk. "Are you o—okay?"

She looks up, and something weird happens. It's like suddenly I'm aware of every heartbeat, every breath, every blink. Both mine and hers. And yet there's nothing around us. I can't feel the heat from the sun, or the hear the birds singing, or feel the wind in my hair. Nothing exists except me and this woman… this beautiful young woman.

She smiles, my heart flipping over in my chest, and I hold out my hand to her, helping her to her feet at last.

"Are you okay?" I repeat, and she nods her head, still looking up, even though she's standing. Her honey-colored hair is tied in a ponytail, with a few loose strands framing her perfect face, and her sapphire blue eyes stare directly into mine. I want to kiss her soft pink lips and tell her I think I love her. But then she'd say I was mad. Wouldn't she? I wouldn't blame her if she did. I'm wondering about that myself.

"I'm fine," she says. "It was just a bit of a shock."

"I'm sure it was. I should have been looking where I was going. If you want, I can take you to the emergency room, just to make sure there's no lasting damage?"

She shakes her head, her smile widening. "No. Honestly. It's not necessary."

I glance down, taking in her skin-tight jeans and the blouse that fits her like a glove, the buttons gaping just slightly when she breathes in, letting it out slowly as she licks her lips.

Man, that's hot.

"My name's Tanner," I say, moving a little closer. "And if you won't let me take you to the hospital, can I at least see you home?"

She shakes her head. "There's no need. I only live just down the street here."

She points over my shoulder and I flip my head around. "You live in Maple Street?"

"Yes."

"Why have I never seen you before?"

She frowns. "Do you live here too, then?" she asks, and I glance up at the bookstore.

"I've lived here all my life," I say, but before I can explain any further, she tilts her head, a smile touching at her lips as she gazes into my eyes, and I find I can't speak. I can barely breathe, and I just stare at her, my heart lost.

"I only moved here a couple of weeks ago," she says, after a very long moment. "I was supposed to be unpacking, but I thought I'd come out for a walk instead."

"Little realizing you'd be taking your life in your hands," I say, finding my voice again. Her smile becomes a giggle, tiny sparks igniting through my entire body.

How does she do that?

"I've been admiring this window display," she says, nodding to the storefront, and I turn, studying my own handiwork. Well… mine and Katie's. I have to say, it looks good. We put a desk in the window and sitting at it is a schoolteacher, made out of books. It was a monumental task, which I think we both regretted several times, but now it's done, it looks amazing.

"Was that what you were doing when I barged into you?" I ask, and she turns around, looking up at me again.

"Yes."

"In that case, I'm doubly sorry."

"You really don't need to keep apologizing. I'm absolutely fine… and I should be getting home. Like I said, I've got a lot of unpacking to do."

She steps away. "Maybe I'll see you around?" I say and she nods her head.

"I hope so." She smiles again, and those sparks become flames, igniting a long-forgotten, burning need, which is only dampened by her turning away.

She makes her way along the sidewalk toward Maple Street, but I don't take my eyes from her… not even for a second, willing her to turn back. Please, just for a second. I'm about to give up when she flips her head around, then turns, walking backwards, and gives me a wave.

I raise my hand, waving back, a smile forming on my lips, even if my feet refuse to move an inch.

Is this what love at first sight does to you?

I guess so…