With Brave Wings (12 page)

"Oh, yeah. He's upstairs. Hold on." Asher set down his beer bottle and disappeared into the house.

Tennyson took the time to check his phone and wasn’t surprised to see a handful of messages from Sophie.

It's so quiet around here now. I'm gonna take a bath and try not to feel horrible for enjoying the peace.

"Told you," he chuckled to himself.

I'm a sucky mom, aren't I? This is great.

Sophie was anything but…
sucky
. She deserved some alone time, and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with it.

I miss Kayden, but then I don’t. Ugh, you haven't even been gone five hours. I'm a mess.

Silly woman. She'd been away from Kayden for a couple days many times before. She was worrying for nothing.

When did I turn into a senior citizen?

"Bingo." Tennyson sat up and replied.

When you thought having fun made you a bad mother. Please relax, sweetie. Enjoy your week off. We made it to the house, and everything is fine here. Talk soon.

He was pocketing his phone when Asher returned with a tiny pup in his arms. "Here you go, big brother."

Like every other time Tennyson had taken in a dog from Fight for Fighters, there was anger mingling with pure love. He gathered the brown and white puppy close and snatched up a blanket to keep him warm.

"Sometimes I get homicidal," he admitted bluntly. This pup wasn’t more than nine weeks old, and he'd already been mistreated. As was common with dogs brought up for fighting, his tail had been removed, and not cleanly, either. The little stump was bandaged, and so was one of his legs. There were several cuts on his body, too. "Jesus Christ."

The puppy was obviously too young to fight, but these dogs weren't brought up in nice environments. It was do-or-die from birth, and this little guy was probably the victim of other dogs' violence—as always, instigated by fucking humans.

"We saved seventeen dogs in all," Ash murmured. "Six had to be put down, and some are still recovering."

"Did you take any?" Tennyson knew Asher had a few dogs at his house in Malibu. Some had housekeepers, some had nannies, Ash had a live-in assistant whose only job was to take care of the dogs.

"Not yet." He shook his head. "If we can't find families for all of them, I'll take one or two home."

Tennyson offered to take another one if needed, and then Mom and Dad came out with Kayden, who was buried in blankets.

His greenish eyes went from sleepy to wide in an instant. "Whas'at, Daddy?"

Safe to say, Kayden was sold. He patted the puppy softly after Tennyson said they had to be careful with him. It was a cute thing to witness, and he snapped off a few photos for Sophie.

"Puppy," Kayden whispered. "Pup, pup, pup."

Max was unimpressed. These days, he only liked to play with Kayden; otherwise, he preferred to be lazy.

"Should we call him that, bug?" Tennyson stroked Kayden's cheek. "Should we name him Pup?"

Kayden was too young to understand the meaning of names, but Pup stuck.

*

The following evening, Mom and Dad wanted to take everyone out for dinner, but Ash declined because he had some work to do, and they couldn’t leave Pup alone, anyway.

So the rest of them drove to a restaurant, and Tennyson squinted as they were shown to their table. The lighting was harsh in here, but he declined when Mom suggested they go to another place. He was hungry. He could survive an hour or two, and he had eye drops and painkillers. Shades too, if it came to that.

Then Mom decided to drop a bomb.

"Dear, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Trisha."

Tennyson wasn’t sure he'd heard that right because it was
fucking
insane. "You did what?" He kept his voice low to mask the fury ready to be unleashed.

"What did you go and do that for?" Dad asked gruffly.

"Now, don’t get mad," Mom cautioned. "Trisha recently moved to Santa Rosa, and she doesn’t know many people around here."

Around
here
? Tennyson couldn’t fucking believe it. "Santa Rosa's two hours away. What the hell is your excuse? I've told you repeatedly—"

"Here she comes now." Mom plastered a smile on her face, looking at something behind him. Trisha, no doubt. Mom stood up to greet her. "How are you, sweetheart? It's been so long."

Tennyson fastened Kayden's bib before side-eyeing Trisha, a woman he'd dated nearly six years ago.

They'd been together for four years, yet it hadn't taken more than a couple months to move on. They'd been extremely compatible, but that had been one of the reasons he'd gotten bored.

There'd been no thrill or excitement. Always agreeing got old fast.

When it was his turn to greet Trisha, he shook her hand firmly and managed a polite smile. "I hear you've moved to California."

Something dimmed in Trisha's crystal blue eyes. Perhaps because he couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. "I did, yes. Santa Rosa." She sat down between him and Mom and tucked a piece of her curly, red hair behind her ear. "This has to be your son."

He inclined his head and smiled at Kayden, who was running a toy car over Tennyson's hand. "Yeah. Kayden."

"He's very handsome. He looks like you, Tennyson." Trisha splayed her napkin over her lap. "It's funny—you mentioned you didn’t see children in your future when we dated."

He shot his mother a brief look because, Jesus Christ, she'd be hearing about this later. "He was a surprise I couldn’t be happier about."

"That’s nice."

This dinner wasn’t.

It was through his mother he learned all there was to know about Trisha. Or rather, what she'd been up to since they'd split. Books she'd published, tours she'd been on, and not-so-subtle hints that Trisha was ready to settle down.

Trisha had been ready for years. Tennyson was the one who hadn't been.

However, as Mom went on and on, it became clear he wasn’t the only one who thought she was going too far. He met Trisha's gaze and saw she was on the same page. There was even a smile and an eye-roll.

Tennyson was relieved. Perhaps this meant Trisha had come here with a more open mind—in a "we'll see how it goes" sort of way. As opposed to his mother, who was several steps and presumptions into the future.

"No, Daddy…" Kayden pushed away his plate and shook his head when Tennyson offered him a piece of bread. "No. Miwk, pwease."

"You want more milk?" He waited for Kayden's nod and then refilled his sippy cup. "Here you go. You don’t have to eat any more." He'd eaten plenty, having inherited his dad's and uncle's appetite.

"He's so polite." Trisha smiled.

Tennyson grinned faintly. "I can't take any credit for that, I'm afraid. His mother is big on politeness." Which was obviously a good thing, but he had grown up with a Marine for a father, and respect had come before saying please and thank you. Especially with Sophie often being so busy, it was important to Tennyson that their son didn’t act out and disrespect Sophie—or any adults for that matter.

Kayden had his daddy pretty damn wrapped around his finger, until there was a tantrum that affected other people. That was a no-go. Children—boys in particular—could be rowdy as hell, but Tennyson had a limit. He didn’t care for kids who ruled their families and always got their way simply so they'd shut up.

Hollywood was full of those children.

"Boy's tuckered out," Dad muttered, nodding at Kayden.

It was true. He did look tired. "Are you sleepy, bug?" Tennyson brushed away a bread crumb from Kayden's cheek.

"Nuh-uh." Kayden shook his head. "Ice cweam?" He looked at his grandmother.

She smiled apologetically and dabbed a napkin over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I promised him frozen yogurt after dinner."

"Ah." Tennyson finished his beer. "So what's the plan?"

"There's a place a nice walk from here," Mom said. "They have the best coffee too, I must say."

Trisha cleared her throat. "Tennyson, would you like to have coffee with me here instead? If Kayden doesn’t mind, of course." She didn’t look entirely comfortable, but she didn’t falter. "We could be finished and meet up with them when they come back from getting frozen yogurt."

Tennyson hesitated and glanced at Kayden. He couldn’t say he felt like sticking around, but he wasn’t about to take out his anger toward his mother on the wrong person. For all he knew, Trisha had been left in the dark this evening, too.

"Coffee sounds nice." He nodded. "I assume you don’t mind taking Kayden?" He raised a brow at Mom, who was looking way too pleased. He honestly couldn’t wait to put her in her fucking place. He adored his family and respected his parents, but right now, Mom was that Hollywood child throwing a fit.

"Of course not," Mom assured them. "You two take your time—"

"Actually," Tennyson interrupted, frustrated, "how about we meet up by the car in an hour?"

"We'll be there, son," Dad answered for them.

With that settled, Tennyson paid their bill and then explained to Kayden they'd see each other after ice cream. And once the grandparents had left with Kayden, Tennyson gestured to the bar.

They could've stayed at the table, but others were waiting and it seemed foolish to have a whole table between them.

"Your mother is a bit relentless, isn't she?" Trisha grinned ruefully and took a seat at the bar. "I really thought you knew I was joining you."

"I figured," Tennyson admitted. He flagged down the bartender, and the two ordered Irish coffees. "So. Now that we don't have her and her meddling ways around—how are you, Trisha?"

"All good here." She smiled and turned in her seat to face him better. "This was why I wanted a minute alone. I've missed talking to you, Tennyson. Losing you as a partner was easier to get over than the fact that I lost you as a friend."

Tennyson frowned at that, and he felt like an ass. He'd been quick to sever all ties, desperate to get away. He'd felt so suffocated by the monotony. They hadn't been very happy in the last six months of their relationship, arguing a lot, ignoring each other even more, and then they'd simply parted ways after a final fight.

Their drinks arrived, and he took a sip while he struggled to figure out what to say. He wasn’t known to sugarcoat things, but he was still a gentleman.

"You haven't thought about it like that, have you?" Trisha smirked knowingly.

He chuckled a little and shook his head. "I'm sorry." His brow furrowed, and he was at a loss. "I didn’t like who I'd become—what we had turned into—and my only thought was to get away."

"And now you've moved on." Trisha nodded and peered down into her drink.

"You haven't?" Tennyson was skeptical. He couldn’t help it. It had been years.

"I suppose," she replied slowly. "No, I have. I've been in a couple good relationships after you, but…but I guess I always wondered if we gave up too quickly."

Tennyson looked down at her, processing. He didn’t like seeing her vulnerable because it wasn’t the Trisha he'd once known. She was supposed to stand tall, confident. She was headstrong and fiercely independent.

Almost too independent. Tennyson liked his women strong, but not to the point where his opinion came in second. It had rarely happened because they'd been so incredibly alike in their interests and views, but it had been different when it came to work.

He'd never stand in the way of someone's passion, but he wasn’t the kind of man who could sit in the audience. And there was a big difference between coming home and
telling
him she had a book tour and those were the dates, and coming home to discuss with him her publicist's layout for a tour.

It was supposed to be a two-way street. Back when they'd been dating, he hadn't come home with a script and said he'd pursue it as fast as he could. He'd asked for her opinion, they'd compared schedules, and they'd found something that suited them both.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Trisha tilted her head.

He released a breath, not quite sure what to say this time, either. It was almost a revelation to himself. Because he hadn't really thought about what he'd want in a future partner until now. Maybe he was even beginning to want it. Someone to spend the rest of his life with on that two-way street.

He let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. "I barely know myself, but I suppose I'm starting to think about the future."

"You don’t look happy about it," she noted.

Tennyson pressed his lips together and tapped the bartop absently. "It's easier when you're happy living in the present—with the way things are."

"Well…" Trisha lifted her drink, blowing some steam from it. "I wish I could help you, but my biological clock's been ticking since I was thirty. You're lucky to not have been struck until now." She took a sip and licked a bit of foam off her upper lip. "Back when…you know. You said we were too alike. May I ask what was so wrong about that? We shared many interests, rarely argued, and could anticipate each other's needs. We understood each other."

"We were friends, Trisha." Tennyson reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Our relationship was easy, both falling in and…" He took a breath, not wanting to finish the sentence.