Who's Your Daddy? (39 page)

“So when
is
it okay for me to go out and do anything I want?” His eyes were narrow with fury, but his voice cracked. “Can I go out and fuck whoever I want when I’m eighteen? Or just when I’m out of the house and not under your fucking thumb?”

“You can do whatever you want when you’re old enough to do it responsibly,” I said without thinking and instantly regretted my angry tone.

“Responsibly?” He laughed, holding the parking meter tighter as he nearly threw himself off balance. “You mean like you and Mom?”

I dropped my gaze, unable to meet his accusing eyes. “Look, Ryan, we’ll talk about this once you’ve sobered up. We’re—”

“You came all the way down here to find me,” he snarled. “If you’re so worried about responsibility and all of that shit, why don’t you try looking in the fucking mirror? You’re a fucking—” A groan cut him off, and he doubled over.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, feebly trying to pull away from me. “I’m—” Another moan, this time raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna puke…” His hand went to his mouth, and he stumbled.

Figuring the gutter was as good a place as any on a second’s notice, I guided him to the edge of the sidewalk. I held his shoulders to keep him upright. Cringing each time his body jerked, I looked away.

In between holding my son upright and keeping an eye on Kristy while she laid across the bench, I wondered just how many ways I’d fucked up for us to be in this situation.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Carmen

A sharp sound startled me awake. Blinking in the darkness, it took me a moment to orient myself and remember where I was.

Isaac and Don’s bedroom. In their bed. Beside Isaac.

I smiled. Don was on duty tonight, but Isaac and I had certainly had a pleasant evening together. Now he was out cold, just as I’d been until—

The sound. What was it? I craned my neck and listened.

There it was again. Ah, a car door slamming. Must have been one of the neighbors coming home at—what time was it? I looked over Isaac at the clock on the bedside table. Three o’clock? Damn, someone was out late.

Then came footsteps. And voices. I furrowed my brow, turning my head toward the window that overlooked the driveway.

A shoe scuffed on wood, and my spine straightened. A dull thud, then another, and there was no mistaking: someone was on Isaac and Don’s porch.

Panic rushed through me. If it was an intruder, they weren’t the stealthiest in the world, but there had to be a reason someone was here in the middle of the night.

I nudged Isaac’s arm. “Isaac, wake up.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone’s here.”

“What?” He rolled onto his back, the shadows rendering his features completely invisible. “What do you mean?”

“I just heard someone.” I gestured over my shoulder. “On the porch.”

Then a door opened downstairs, and Isaac sat up.

“Christ,” he muttered. “If that’s Ryan, Don’s going to kill him.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his bathrobe. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the bedroom, and I listened as his steps faded down the hall. I half-expected to hear him chewing Ryan out, but only murmured voices made it up the stairs. Then those voices and every set of footsteps faded. The house was silent but definitely occupied. Maybe it was simply because I knew Isaac and Ryan were in the house somewhere, likely having a very tense conversation, but even when they were out of earshot, I swore I could feel their combined presence.

Not five minutes after Isaac left the room, renewed activity broke the silence downstairs. Then, two distinct sets of footsteps came up the stairs. Isaac murmured something, and in response—

Don? What was he doing home at this hour?

The light came on, and after I’d blinked enough times for my eyes to adjust, my heart jumped into my throat. Don came in ahead of Isaac. He was still in his uniform, and he looked absolutely exhausted. Not just because of the dark circles under his eyes or the pallor of his face, but the way his shoulders slumped like the weight of the world rested on them.

And…my God. I’d never seen the man cry, sometimes wondered if he was capable of it, but now he looked like he was a breath away from breaking down.

“Don?” I sat up. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head. “Crazy night.” He sank onto the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. Rubbing his temples, he swore quietly.

Isaac sat beside him and kneaded the back of Don’s neck.

“What happened?” I put a hand on Don’s arm. He smelled vaguely of sweat, alcohol and marijuana, and his hands shook like I’d never seen before. “Is everything okay?”

“Ryan snuck out of Julia’s place,” Don said quietly. “She called me at work, and we went looking for him. Found him—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “We found him in one of the clubs downtown, drunk off his ass.” He sighed. “God, he’s a mess.” Still rubbing his temples, Don ran us through everything from Julia’s frantic phone call to getting the kids into the cars.

“God, what if I hadn’t found them?” he asked, his voice hollow and unsteady. “I mean, Kristy was so damned messed up, and they were both with…with people way older than them. Shit, this…” He trailed off, and his shoulders slumped.

“You did find him, though,” I said softly. “He’s home safe.”

He took his fingers away from his temples, and his face had paled. “I just can’t help thinking about all the things that could have happened. To him or Kristy. Fuck, I just…this…” He brought his fingers up to his temples again.

Isaac squeezed Don’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“I just found my kid in a club with a fake ID, alcohol on his breath, and his hand up some twenty-something girl’s shirt.” Don sounded like the act of speaking took what little energy he had right out of him. “Then I got to listen to him tell me all the reasons why this is our fault before I listened to him puke in the gutter before he passed out in the car.” He lay back across the bed. “No, I’m not okay.”

I stroked his cheek with the backs of my fingers, my skin brushing his stubbled skin. He closed his eyes and pressed against my hand like a cat seeking more contact.

“At least he’s home safe now,” Isaac said.

“I know,” Don breathed. “I just keep wondering how the hell we got to this point.”

“He’s a teenager,” I said. “He’s rebelling.”

“He’s pissed at me,” Don said. “He’s pissed about everything with the baby, all of that, and—” He cut himself off and exhaled hard. “I have to be honest. After tonight, I’m even more scared of doing this whole parenting thing again.”

My spine straightened. “What do you mean?”

“The baby.” Don sat up and looked at Isaac, then at me. “I mean, regardless of whose biological kid it is, we’re all going be in this, and I…”

I put my hand over his. “I’m as nervous as you are about this baby, but I am really, really glad I’m going to have you there so
I
don’t fuck up.”

He sighed. “I’m not so sure you want to follow my example, especially after tonight.”

“Listen to me.” I squeezed his hand gently. “What you did tonight?
That’s
being a good parent.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Except it feels about like rescuing a kid from a building I set on fire myself.”

I kissed his cheek. “I don’t think you give yourself nearly enough credit. No, you haven’t been a perfect parent, but who has?”

He said nothing.

“What would your dad have done tonight?” I asked.

His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“If you’d been in Ryan’s position, and your dad came and pulled you out of a club. How would he have reacted?”

Don shuddered, and I clasped his hand between both of mine.

“Ever since you walked in here,” I said, “you haven’t breathed a word that wasn’t concern for Ryan or beating yourself up for being what you think is a bad father.”

“Except you’d think I could have kept him from going in there in the first place.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And when he went off on me, telling me what hypocrites Julia and I are…”

“He was drunk,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, but how often does getting drunk just make someone say what they’ve been holding back when they’re sober?” Don’s voice cracked again, and he quickly cleared his throat. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he said, “Christ, I don’t even know how to talk to him about this.”

“Don,” I whispered. “The very fact that you’re trying to figure out how to talk to him, not punish him, tells me you’re on the right track.”

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered.

“I’m serious.” I ran my hand up and down his arm. “Teenagers rebel. If he’s doing it because he’s upset about this situation, then you or maybe all three of us need to sit down and talk to him, but it doesn’t mean you’ve irreparably screwed up.”

Isaac rested his hand on Don’s knee and kissed his cheek. “This doesn’t mean you’ve failed as a parent, Don. He’s acting out, but there’s nothing that says the two of you can’t recover from this.”

“Maybe not.” Don’s voice was hollow and quiet, like it took all the energy he had just to speak. “But I have no idea where to start.”

“Why don’t you start with getting some sleep?” Isaac whispered, running his fingers through Don’s hair.

Don sighed. “I don’t see that happening any time soon.” Still, he pushed himself up off the bed. “Let me at least grab a shower. And…I’m sorry I woke you guys up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Isaac stood and put his arms around Don. “Waking us up is no big deal. You were taking care of your son.”

“Trying to, anyway,” Don whispered. He kissed Isaac lightly, then disappeared into the bathroom to get a shower.

Isaac and I looked at each other, eyebrows up.

“Think he’ll be okay?” I asked.

“Don or Ryan?”

“Both, now that you mention it.”

“Probably.” He sighed and looked at the closed bathroom door. “He’s stressed so much about being a good father, and had such a god-awful example of what a father should be all those years.” He shook his head. “I just wish Ryan could see how much Don wants to be a good dad. Honestly, if Ryan had any idea how much his dad is trying…” Isaac shook his head again, trailing off.

“Well, maybe when they talk tomorrow,” I said, “Ryan will see that.”

Isaac nodded. “I certainly hope so.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Donovan

I stripped off my uniform and grabbed a shower, then collapsed into bed between Isaac and Carmen. He molded himself against me, one arm draped over my waist, and kissed the back of my neck. Carmen faced me, tucking her head beneath my chin.

This was one of those nights when, had I just a little bit of energy left, I would have gladly sacrificed an hour of sleep to make love to Isaac. And Carmen. Both of them. The world had shifted off its axis. I needed to be close to them and know that
something
was still right.

But tonight, I simply had. Nothing. Left.

Exhaustion carried me off in no time, but the mental chorus of worry, fear and regret kept me in that limbo between consciousness and restful sleep. Every creak of the house settling was Ryan’s bedroom door opening. Every car going by was someone taking my son somewhere he didn’t belong. When I managed to dip into deep sleep, I couldn’t find Ryan in the Temple or I was on the side of the road listening to him puke or hate me or both.

The sun had barely risen when I gave up and got out of bed. My head throbbed, and I could barely see straight while I put on the coffee.

Before the first drop of coffee had fallen into the pot, Isaac joined me in the kitchen. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes.

“Carmen still asleep?” I asked finally.

“She’s in her room,” he said. “Getting an early start working, as always.”

I managed a halfhearted smile. “That woman’s got more discipline than anyone I know.”

He laughed. “No kidding. Maybe she can keep us in line after all.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll see.”

We fell quiet again. Then he said, “Get any sleep?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Same here.” He pulled a couple of cups out of the cabinet and set them beside the coffeepot. “You going to talk to him when he gets up, or let him finish being hungover first?”

“Sooner the better, I guess,” I said.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“No. But it needs to be done.”

“What are you going to say?”

I shrugged. “Just going to play it by ear.”

He put his arms around me and kissed me lightly. He looked over his shoulder toward the stairs, then back at me. “You do realize that in sixteen years or so, we get to go through this whole teenager thing again, right?”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me. But hey, maybe we’ll get it right this time.”

He touched my face. “You got it right this time. You’ve always done the best you could with the knowledge you had.”