To Be a Dad (Harlequin Superromance) (13 page)

“Told you. Wants to talk to you. I can say you’re not here, Teressa.”

“Why would you do that?” She squared her shoulders. She’d known this was coming. Stan wasn’t the type of man who let things go. Her skin tightened with anger. “I can handle him, thanks.”

She picked up the knife again, more for effect than any intention to use it, and marched into the empty dining room. Tyler followed on her heels. It was just like Stan to pick a time to talk to her when no one other than Tyler was around.

She kept the counter between them. Not because she was afraid of him, but she didn’t trust herself not to slap him up the side of the head. “What do you want?”

Stan leered at her. “You’re looking awfully good these days, Teressa. Got another bun in the oven, I hear.”

“I’m busy. I don’t have time to chat.”

“Fine. My lawyer says I got a right to spend time with my own kid. I want Brendon today.”

She staggered back a step, as if he’d punched her in the heart. “He’s three years old, and you’ve never asked to spend time with him before. Why now?” She knew he was jealous of Dusty and was using Brendon to hurt him, but she didn’t want to make anything easy for him.

“I don’t have to have a reason.”

“No, but you have to give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice, I believe.”

Stan got a stubborn look on his face. “If I don’t get him today, I’ll ask my lawyer if I can have him for a weekend visit instead of just today. Like you said, I haven’t spent any time with him. The judge will probably let me have the kid for a couple of days to make up for lost time. My mother would like that better, anyway.”

Teressa briefly thought of offering him money to leave Brendon alone, but she knew that would start a lifetime of bribes. And then she’d have to kill him. She tucked in her bottom lip to stem the tears crowding up her throat. “I need to phone my lawyer.”

“Go ahead. I’ll have a coffee while I wait,” he said to Tyler.

Tyler tossed the dish towel he was holding over his shoulder. “Not from me you won’t.” Tyler followed Teressa into the kitchen. “I think you should phone Dusty.”

“So he can come down here and beat up Stan? I don’t think so.” She willed her hand to stop shaking long enough to dial the lawyer’s number, although she already knew the answer to her question. Dusty had warned her to take care of this, and she hadn’t. Brendon was going to have to spend the afternoon with Stan because of her negligence. She was a terrible mother. She didn’t deserve her children.

She sucked back her tears and explained to the lawyer the situation. As she expected, he advised her to let Stan see his son for a few hours now instead of letting Stan appeal to the judge for an entire weekend visit. The lawyer pointed out, Stan would probably be happy enough to let Brendon go home after he’d made his point. And then they’d meet with the judge to review Stan’s parental rights.

When she finished talking to the lawyer, she slipped into the chair by the desk, put her head down and cried.

“Teressa.” Tyler put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get mad at me, but I called Dusty on my cell. He and Adam are on their way. I don’t trust Stan. He can get mean sometimes.”

“You’re fired,” she said without picking up her head.

“I figured. But I don’t care, because it was the right thing to do. Dusty’s more Brendon’s dad than that has-been out there.”

She rubbed the pounding in her forehead. “I don’t understand how my life got so complicated.”

Tyler patted her. “It’s not your fault you get pregnant every time you look at a guy.”

“Thank you for that, Tyler. You’re still fired, though.” She stood and drew in a deep breath, searching for the courage to tell Stan he could have Brendon for the day. She forced her leaden feet to move toward the dining room. She was overreacting. Stan would probably take Brendon to his mother’s. Mrs. Ferris had asked several times to visit with her grandson, and Teressa had agreed, but after the third time, the requests stopped. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been relieved. Although she didn’t believe in blaming all a child’s faults on the parent, Stan didn’t get to be a self-absorbed...pumpkinhead all by himself. She didn’t want her son to be exposed to the same influence. Although her own mother was super critical of Teressa, she had a soft spot when it came to her grandchildren, and Sarah and Brendon had escaped most of Linda’s bitter criticism.

Making up names for Stan made her feel marginally better, and she pushed through the door, feeling as if she was marching into battle.

“You want him after day care for a couple of hours?”

Stan stood on the wrong side of the cash register. The swine. Thankfully, she hadn’t unlocked it for the day yet. She stayed close to the kitchen door and wondered how it was possible that he’d once been the hometown hero every girl had lusted after, including her.

He swung around to face her. He was overweight and already had a beer belly as big as his father’s. Life was probably not a garden of roses for him, because he’d reached the pinnacle of his life at twenty-two years old, and it had been downhill from there. He’d crawled home from playing hockey in the NHL and had given up. She shuddered. She’d been knocked down a couple of times, but she refused to believe the best of her life was behind her. Stan made it hard to feel sorry for him, because he thought everyone owed him.

“Nah. I’ll take him now.”

“This isn’t take-out, Stan. You can’t just order up a kid for the day.”

Tyler slid through the door behind her.

Stan smirked. “I just did, didn’t I?”

The doors to the restaurant burst open, and Adam and Dusty marched into the room, looking as if they wanted to rip someone apart. Stan cursed and shifted closer to her.

“What’s going on, Teressa?” Dusty demanded.

Teressa looked across the counter, but didn’t see her dear friend standing in front of her. She saw a man marked by anger and helplessness and hate. The man she’d been slowly falling in love with, who loved to laugh, was gone. Had she ever considered what she’d taken away from Dusty by handing him the responsibility of a child?

Tears flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Dusty reached forward, grabbed Stan by the collar of his jacket and yanked him across the counter, cutlery and napkins, salt-and-pepper shakers and receipt books scattering everywhere.

“I’ve been waiting to pound on you, Carson. You think you’re so goddamn smart.” Stan’s arms flailed in the air as he attempted to free himself from Dusty’s hammerlock.

“Dusty.” Adam stepped up beside him and did no more than put his hand on Dusty’s arm.

Dusty cursed and dropped Stan to the floor.

“I can get you for assault,” Stan grumbled as he dusted himself off.

“Really?” Dusty folded his arms, his glare glacial.

Stan sneered as he eased toward the outside door. “Brendon’s my son. I’m spending the day with him, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“If that kid so much as sheds one tear, I’ll come after you.”

“And do what?” Stan clutched the door handle.

“Beat the crap out of you to start with.”

“I’ll have you arrested.”

“So? If you hurt Brendon, I’ll be happy to do time in jail to teach you a lesson. You’ve been warned. Be good to Brendon.”

Stan darted a look at Adam, who was doing his scary squeezing-his-hands-open-and-shut thing, but keeping quiet. “Where is he?” Stan directed his question to Teressa.

“At the day care.”

When Stan slammed the door shut behind him, Teressa squatted down and mechanically started picking up forks and knives off the floor. She wanted to cry, not just for Brendon, but for all of them, because her messed-up life had just spilled over into everyone else’s. Shame burned through her. This is what her mother had meant when she’d said Dusty was too good for her.

She looked up when she heard a rush of feet and saw Dusty race toward the bathroom. Feeling like an old woman, she stood up.

She’d made up her mind a long time ago to make the best of her situation. Didn’t mean she’d stopped dreaming of leaving, though. She liked to think it didn’t hurt to dream, but she was slowly realizing maybe it did. Instead of always wishing she was somewhere else, she should try being happy with living in Collina. Maybe she could trick herself into believing she loved her life.

She handed Tyler a handful of forks and pointed at the tables that needed to be set for the day. “Wash them first. I’ll check on Dusty.”

Adam made a sound as if to speak, but when she looked at him, he remained silent, his lips pressed tight together. Teressa smiled. “I’ll be gentle with him. Promise.”

Dusty was splashing water on his face when she walked into the washroom. When she caught his reflection in the mirror, her heart pinched tight. His eyes were red.

He looked up from the sink. “Not now, Teressa.”

“I was hoping for a hug.”

He tilted his head and regarded her in the mirror. Goodness knows what he saw—a woman going out of her mind? After a minute he nodded and turned and wrapped his arms around her. She sank into his embrace, savoring his warmth and the solid feel of him.

“You’re not going to tell Brendon that he has to go with Stan for the day?”

“The day care won’t let Brendon leave with anyone without my permission. I’ll go up there in a minute. I just need this. You. I’m a terrible mother, Dusty. I should have called the lawyer like you said. If Stan hurts Brendon...”

“Shhh.” He patted her back. “Brendon’s going to be okay. Stan wouldn’t dare lay a finger on that child now. Not after Adam and I made it clear what would happen if he did. Besides, Stan isn’t evil, just selfish.”

“That’s why you came? To remind Stan someone besides me is taking care of Brendon?”

“Nah. I just want to beat the shit out of the idiot. Adam came along for a show of strength.”

“Adam’s the one who almost killed a man with his fists, yet you’re the one ready to fight Stan.”

Dusty pulled back to look down at her. “The man Adam beat up had abused his mother. I’d do the same for Brendon or Sarah or you. Sorry to be Neanderthal about it, but that’s the way I am with family. You fight me, you fight my gang.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I take that back. I’m not sorry I feel protective toward you and the kids. But I am sorry I caused this mess to start with. I should have kept my mouth shut around that ass-hat.”

“You’re not responsible for Stan’s actions, Dusty. I’m going to contact the lawyer and take care of the situation. We can’t keep tiptoeing around Stan.”

Dusty raised her chin up with his finger until their gazes met and locked. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Teressa closed her eyes against her tears as they both moved toward the door, Dusty’s arm still around her shoulders. She loved having him by her side. Already couldn’t imagine facing Stan and the lawyers and judge without his support. She finally had someone she could rely on.

* * *

“D
ID
S
TAN
BRING
Brendon home yet?”

Dusty strolled down the street with Adam, his hands jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket. The cold, dirty gray afternoon matched his mood. He hunched his shoulders against the wind, wishing he’d thought to wear his toque.

“Don’t know. Teressa said she’d phone if anything was wrong. Stan doesn’t have to have Brendon back until six. It’s only five.”

“I feel bad leaving Teressa on her own so much at work. I told her I’ll make it up to her after the wedding.”

Thankful to have something else to think about besides Brendon, Dusty took the bait. “You and Sylvie aren’t planning a honeymoon?”

“My life is a honeymoon, man. Doesn’t get any better than this. I’ll be gone for a few days when Sylvie has her show in Toronto, but that’s all.”

Dusty slowed his pace. He liked hiking and had jumped at Adam’s offer to walk up the ridge behind the village to look for some kind of tree or branches or leaves to use for decoration for the wedding. He hadn’t paid close attention to what it was they were looking for—he was just glad that he had something to occupy him for the next hour or so.

“You don’t sound too happy about going to the city.”

“Toronto isn’t my favorite place, and I don’t fit in with Sylvie’s artsy friends.”

“You’re worried about Oliver.” Or maybe about that biker gang Adam’s father used to run with. Dusty had caught a glimpse of a couple of gang members when they’d swung through the village earlier in the summer. They looked like scary dudes. But then so did Adam, and he was a good man, no doubt about it. Some people wore their scars on the outside. Adam was one of them.

“No. Yeah. I don’t know.” Adam stopped. “You have to admit he’s perfect for Sylvie.”

“She chose you. No accounting for some people’s taste.” He play-punched Adam on the shoulder. “The path’s up behind the barber shop. We should hurry. It won’t stay light out for long.

“Seriously, Adam,” Dusty continued as they turned onto the main street. “She picked the better man. Sylvie’s crazy about you.”

“All these compliments. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna blush.”

Dusty laughed. “I’d like to see... Son of a bitch.” He picked up his pace as his heart jackhammered in his chest.

Adam followed on his heels. “What is it?”

“Stan’s Mustang is parked outside the legion. You’re not supposed to take kids in there, and he shouldn’t be drinking when he has Brendon, anyway.”

A curse exploded out of him when they came up behind the car. He was going to murder Stan. With his bare hands. Slowly.

Brendon was kneeling in the car, crying, his face pressed up against the backseat window.

“Brendon.” Dusty called out the name as if it were ripped from his gut. He rushed the car, fumbled with the door handle closest to Brendon and found it locked. “Goddamn it. I’ll kill him.” He punched the roof of the car.

Adam grabbed his arm. “Settle down. You’re upsetting Brendon. Talk to the kid. Tell him everything’s going to be all right.”

Settle down? It wasn’t Adam’s kid inside the car, freezing and crying. Brendon wasn’t even wearing a jacket or hat.

“Brendon.” He knelt in front of the window and bit back another howl when he noticed Brendon had wet himself. How long had Stan left him in the car, and why hadn’t anyone else seen him crying and stopped to help? This damned town. Everyone went home and closed the door when it started to get dark.