“Unbelievable.” The car door opened, and Dad leaned in to unbuckle me. Large hands scooped me up and held me to a chest covered in a dozen different textures, scratchy, silky, smooth, and rough. The aftershave he wore had faded, and he smelled like smoke and alcohol.
He lifted me until my forehead fell against his neck and the deep rumble of his voice was like an engine, purring through me.
“Hey, Sebby. Bet you’re ready for bedtime, huh? Shall I read you a story?”
“Drummer Hoff,” I muttered against the stubble on his neck.
“You got it.”
People might be tempted to use my best memories to explain my taste in men, but correlation is not causation.
I had no Daddy issues.
I was raised by a wonderful, loving, and kind father.
Naturally, I wanted a partner like Stone, who reminded me of all my father’s best qualities but didn’t feel the need to parent me. Someone who cared about me enough to let me make mistakes. Someone who listened to me, who let me nurture him as much as he nurtured me.
I wanted a man who wouldn’t leave a child alone in a car, ever. Not because it might be dangerous but because being alone in a car sucked.
I wanted a man who understood that people need one another, even if they don’t necessarily acknowledge that fact.
I wanted a partner like Stone. I wanted Stone, just Stone.
“Take me home?” I asked.
“As soon as they let me,” he replied.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stone
Artemis’s naming day began with a lazy, sensual shower for two and a walk to feed and greet our canine guests, as Sebastian called them.
One of the volunteer trainers Ariel worked with came by to give each one individual exercise time, freeing me to read while Sebastian napped the morning away with his head pillowed on my lap.
Sebastian’s bruises were fading, but the misery I felt from hurting him hadn’t. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d reinjured him seriously.
It was time to talk about that and a dozen other things. We had coyly tiptoed around some big decisions. We liked spending time with each other. Things felt right between us.
What would happen if we tried to move forward together in some way?
Where would our home base be? How would we handle the many necessary separations dictated by our jobs? What about the disparity in our incomes? How would we live if he was used to all the finest things, but I liked simplicity and living with nature outside my door?
We couldn’t go on hiding from the world this way forever.
Even pragmatist Molly seemed to take for granted that the little pack we’d formed was permanent in some way. She’d added my schedule to her tablet and ran media intervention for both of us. For Sebastian, that meant keeping him in a media blackout, and for me, it meant spinning news of his stay at the sanctuary in such a way that it kept our relationship private.
No one had complained about losing the drone Taggart had shot down, but it would be futile if they did. The kennels were located deep inside a clearly marked private area.
The doorbell rang.
“Stay there.” Molly got up from the kitchen table where she’d been having a late breakfast. “I’ll get it.”
Sebastian murmured something in his sleep.
“It’s okay.” I brushed Sebastian’s hair off his forehead. “Ariel probably wants to talk about the ceremony later.”
I was about to slide out from under him when Serena walked in, followed by Sadie, Jesse, and Lincoln. I met Serena’s gaze with shock. Morrigan froze.
“Dad’s got a dog!” The boys glanced at each other with delight.
Was that it?
Instead of demanding to know why I'd basically destroyed our family, were my sons going to get excited over a dog?
This wasn't how I imagined our reunion would go. There had to be hard feelings, a sense of betrayal, regrets, and recrimination. I ought to be punished. I needed to make amends.
What should I do? What should I say?
Sadie’s eyes widened on seeing Sebastian.
“Mom, that’s—” Gasping, she gripped her hair with both hands and gave a banshee’s scream—loud and long and anguished—before running outside.
Muttering a benign curse, Serena whirled and ran after her.
“She’s just upset because she’s got zits.” Jesse shrugged. “She didn’t want to come because a boy at school said her face looks like a pizza.”
“Pizza’s bigger, though,” observed Lincoln. “Can I pet your dog?”
Sebastian, who had frozen when my family entered, now sat up.
“I’ll just go to my room,” he said.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Wait—”
“Not a chance in hell.” He shook me off and headed to the back of the house, followed by Molly.
“What’s his name?” Lincoln asked.
“Her name”—I cleared my throat—”is Morrigan.” Even at his young age, he knew how to handle himself around dogs. He fought the desire to move closer, although I could tell he really wanted to pet her. “It’s good to be wary of dogs. Keep your hands to your sides and let her come to you. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to touch her.”
I gave Morrigan the go-ahead, “Go on, Morrigan. Make a friend.”
Morrigan crept toward them in a laughably cautious manner. She wasn’t afraid of children, but she’d learned they were more likely to move impulsively and could be careless of her dignity. They pulled tails.
“She’s so pretty.” Lincoln was definitely a dog person.
“Do you guys have a dog?” I asked.
Lincoln bobbed a nod. “We have a beagle named Wiley.”
“What’s he like?”
“He never does what we tell him,” Jesse said. “Auntie Ariel’s going to teach me how to train him.”
“Beagles can be pretty independent.” I had experience with the breed.
“That’s why we call him Wiley. He gets into everything.” Jesse looked at Morrigan while he spoke. “Did Ariel train your dog?”
“Morrigan’s an emotional support dog, so she was specially trained to help veterans with PTSD by an organization that does that. That’s actually where I met your aunt Ariel.”
“And then you introduced her to Uncle Taggart?” Jesse asked. “Mom said you did.”
“I am proud to say that I did that.”
They grew pensive, looking at Morrigan. From her body language I saw they’d passed the sniff test. “You can get down and pet her gently, but don’t crowd her, please. She gets nervous around new people.”
It was best that they remain cautious at first, but they knew how to pet her. They didn’t reach for her face or her ears but ran their hands down her neck and over her back until she plopped down between them to enjoy it.
Serena came back inside with her arm around Sadie, who looked like she’d been crying. Sadie glanced toward the space on the couch where Sebastian had been and started crying again, quietly. She turned her head into her mother's shoulder.
“You said to come early,” Serena pointed out.
I stood. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d call or text first or—”