Brenda Novak - Come Home to Me

“Dyl home?” he asked because Cheyenne was still blocking the doorway, and he didn’t know how to inspire a warmer welcome. He’d guessed Presley would be stopping by to pick up her baby. Wyatt had to be somewhere if he wasn’t with his mother, and this was the logical place. The stroller confirmed it.

His sister-in-law began to fidget. “Dyl?”

“Yeah. Your husband and my big brother—remember him?” Presley couldn’t assume he was merely looking to get in her pants if her sister and his brother were around when he spoke to her. That would make the contact legit. Then maybe they could strike up some of their old camaraderie, and he could walk her home and offer an apology, since things had gone badly at the bookstore before he could work his way around to what he’d really wanted to say.

Cheyenne ignored the sarcastic jab. “Of course he’s here. He’s watching TV.”

When she glanced past him, at the drive, he realized why she was reluctant to invite him in. She didn’t want him here when Presley arrived. But Cheyenne was too polite to make it any more obvious. With a pleasant smile, she stepped back. “Come on in.”

He understood that she didn’t feel he’d treated her sister right. He hadn’t been the best for Presley. But he’d never hurt her intentionally. And he wasn’t the same person he used to be. Why did they think only she could change?

When Cheyenne grabbed a sweater off the hall tree instead of following him toward the living room, he stopped. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She waved a hand. “I’m just taking Wyatt for a walk.”

“It’s cold and dark.” It had also been raining an hour ago and could rain again. Spring usually came early in Gold Country, but the first week of March had been a week of full winter.

“We won’t go far.”

A dark-headed little boy toddled out of the living room, holding a rubber block, the corner of which he had stuffed in his mouth.

“This must be Wyatt.”

There was another pause on Cheyenne’s part, but he understood why. She didn’t want anything, or anyone, to come between Presley and her recovery, and that included him. “Yeah. That’s Wyatt, her pride and joy.”

It was motherhood that’d changed Presley. Aaron felt certain of it.

Wyatt stared up at Aaron with round eyes the color of melted chocolate—just like his mom’s.

“Cute little bugger,” he said. “Seems big for his age. Kind of surprising coming from a half-pint like Pres.”

“Presley says his father was tall.” Cheyenne moved as if she planned to sweep the baby into her arms and head outside, but Aaron was closer and stooped to pick him up before she could.

“Hey, you,” he said. “What a chunk you are. Doesn’t look like you’ve ever missed a meal.”

The baby pulled the block out of his mouth and gave him a gummy smile that revealed several Mini-Chiclet teeth. “Ma-ma-ma!” he chanted, hitting the block with his free hand.

Aaron shifted his attention to Cheyenne. “Doesn’t seem to be afraid of strangers.”

“No. He’s a happy, trusting little guy.”

When Aaron used the baby’s own fist to tap his nose, Wyatt gave an infectious belly laugh and tried to shove his toy into Aaron’s mouth.

“That’s okay, dude,” Aaron said, twisting his head. “That block’s got more than enough spit on it already.”

“Aaron? That you?” Dylan called, and Aaron let Cheyenne take the baby.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“How’d it go in Reno? You find the right location?”

Aaron walked into the living room to see Dylan sprawled on the couch, his hair wet. He’d worked late and must’ve just showered. They were slammed with business, which was another reason Aaron thought it was time to open a franchise. “Nothing I’m in love with. I’m considering Placerville instead.”

“I wouldn’t go there.”

“It’s closer, only forty miles away.”

“But it’s a smaller market. When’d you get back?”

Aaron fell into one of two leather side chairs and propped his feet on the coffee table. The L.A. Lakers were playing the Miami Heat, and it looked like a close game. “Couple of hours ago. I promised Mr. Nunes if he gave us another day to finish his Land Rover I’d get Ted’s new book autographed for him.”

Dylan sat up. “You went to the signing?”

“For a few minutes.” He hadn’t gotten the book. The line had been too long. Then he’d spoken to Presley and ended up walking out. But he could go over to Ted’s later and pick up a copy.

“How’d it go?” his brother asked.

Why did Aaron get the feeling that this was a loaded question? Was there some underlying concern about him attending the book signing? “Fine. Why wouldn’t it?”

His brother forwarded through a commercial break. “No reason.”

“Because Presley was there?”

“Chey’s been nervous about the two of you running into each other,” he explained.

“Why?” Aaron asked. “What’s going on? Everyone’s acting as if we should be enemies. As if I’ll do something terrible if I get the chance. But I’ve never mistreated Presley. I mean...I wasn’t always as nice as I could’ve been, but I was never seriously out of line. We were friends,” he added with a shrug. “We had fun together. That was it.”

Dylan didn’t seem particularly swayed by this speech. “You know she’s had a rocky past. We don’t want her getting mixed up in the things she used to do, that’s all.”

“I’m one of those things? You’re blaming me for her drug use?”

Drawing up one leg, Dylan rested the hand that held the remote on his knee. “You partied with her a lot.”

“But it’s not like I introduced her to drugs, or even encouraged her to take them. She was a coke-hound. She would’ve partied with someone else if not with me.”

“Maybe, but you weren’t in the best place back then, either. It’s not like you ever discouraged her. You both played fast and loose. But whatever. That’s in the past. We’re hoping it’ll stay there. Life’s difficult enough for a woman trying to support a kid all on her own.”

Aaron frowned as he remembered his conversation with Presley at the bookstore. “She’s not doing it ‘all on her own.’ Wyatt’s father helps out, doesn’t he?”

Dylan made a sound of disbelief. “You kidding? She knew Wyatt’s father for...what? An hour or two? He was just some prick who took advantage of her when she was high and running from everything she didn’t want to feel. If there was any hope of finding him, I’d rearrange his face. But she’s not in contact with him, doesn’t know how to reach him. When I asked, she couldn’t even give me a name.”

“She told me he pays child support,” Aaron said tightly.

“Pride talking. She doesn’t want you to realize how desperate she’s been, that she’s barely getting by.”

“Why would she feel she has something to prove to me? I’ve never looked down on her.”

“She’s putting on a brave face, what else? People do that.”

“Not people who know each other as well as we do.”

“Things have changed, Aaron.”

That was the second time tonight he’d heard essentially the same thing. “To hell with change. Why does everything have to change?”

“Just let go of the past. The two of you aren’t good for each other—especially now that she has a child.”

The old anger welled up. “Wait a second. Who the hell are you to make that decision?”

Dylan shot him a dirty look. “Chey and I were here when you were together, remember? We know what the two of you were like.”

“So what? You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see. Even after all these years, you’re still trying to be my father?”