Susan Andersen - That Thing Called Love

His.

Son.

Awash with joy, with terror, with a raft of pain and regret, Jake stared. An emotion he’d never experienced suffused his chest, while panic clawed at his gut. Jesus. He was shaking.

He hadn’t thought it would matter so much, hadn’t expected to be struck so hard. Was this what love felt like?

The thought snapped his spine straight. Hell, no.

It couldn’t be. A: he was a Bradshaw and Bradshaw men’s version of the Big L was so fucked it gave the sentiment a bad name. And B: a man had to actually know someone before he could start slinging that word around.

He drew a deep breath. It was probably just simple wonder that the kid could have gotten so big already. Jake’d had this image in his head of Austin at two, at four. Hell, at six even, which was how old Austin was the year Kathy had sent him the last picture.

But this was no little boy—this was an almost-grown teen. Not that Jake hadn’t known how old he was, of course.

He just hadn’t had a clear picture of it in his head.

He’d long ago convinced himself that he was doing the right thing—that Austin was better off with his grandparents, who could give him the stable, structured life that he himself could not. And he’d been right.

But now—face-to-face with what he hadn’t merely let slip through his fingers but had actively thrown away with no more than an occasional second thought—his carelessness felt like shards of glass hacking his gut to shreds.

Oblivious to the thoughts and feelings that threatened to swamp Jake, the boy crossed directly to Jenny without even glancing in his direction.

“Can I spend the night at Nolan’s?” he demanded. “His mom said it was okay.” His gaze passed incuriously over Jake, returned to Jenny. “She’s gonna order pizza from Bella T’s, and Nolan has a new Xbox game we’re gonna try ou—”

With a neck-snapping double take, the kid’s gaze suddenly shot back to lock on Jake’s. He took a step toward him, making Jake’s overburdened heart leap into his throat.

Then Austin snapped upright and an ask-me-if-I-give-a-shit expression molded his young face. He looked at Jake through pitch-black narrowed lashes. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, even though his shuttered expression made it obvious to anyone with eyes that he knew.

Jake swallowed, fighting to sound calm in the midst of the fucking circus taking place inside of him. Automatically, he started forward. “Your dad. I—”

The teen made a wrong-answer-buzzer noise that stopped him in his tracks. “Like hell you are. In case you don’t know...and I’m guessing you don’t since this is the first time I’ve ever seen ya,” he said, contempt coating his every word, “I’m thirteen. I don’t need or want a daddy in my life.” He turned back to Jenny, pinning her with angry eyes. “So can I stay the night at Nolan’s or what?”

Jake watched as she reached up to stroke the boy’s cheek, then visibly quelled the urge, clearly knowing he would hate the public show of sympathy. Instead she nodded. “Sure.”

Without another word—or so much as a quick peek in Jake’s direction—the teen turned and vanished with his friend into a room off the living room. When he reappeared less than a minute later, he was tucking a toothbrush into his jeans pocket. His other hand clutched a pair of flannel lounge pants.

“You need money for pizza?” Jenny asked.

“Nah,” the other kid answered. “Mom’s got it covered.”

Still ignoring Jake, Austin headed for the kitchen, Nolan tight on his six.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Jake stepped forward, but the two boys were already slamming out the back door.

Jake didn’t know if it was disappointment or relief that crashed through him. Whatever the sensation was, it nearly knocked him to his knees. God, he must have pictured this first meeting a hundred times since he’d received the news of Kathy’s and Emmett’s deaths, must have run as many scenarios through his mind. Not once, however, had he envisioned this. He’d been braced for his son’s anger, for a barrage of pointed questions he wasn’t sure he could answer to the boy’s satisfaction.

But how did a guy brace himself to be so utterly...dismissed? He turned on Jenny. “Are you kidding me? You let him just walk out?”

“What did you expect?” Her voice was cool, her gaze even cooler. “Austin’s just discovered that the man who fathered him, the man who was never here when he wanted him most, has finally deigned to show up. Don’t you think he might need a little time to process that?”

Yeah. He supposed he did. The kid had said it himself: he was thirteen—not that many years from being grown. Jake had missed his opportunity to be a father.

No. He squared his shoulders. The hell with that. Austin was a good five years from the bare minimum of being grown, which was a helluva long way from full-out grown. Yeah, he was late to the party, but this was his opportunity to be the man he should have been. And the first order of business was to establish a relationship with his son.

Given Austin’s reaction, though, it clearly wasn’t going to be easy. Well, tough shit. He wasn’t afraid of hard work.

Still. It’s a damn shame the kid’s too old to buy a pony.

He cleared his head and turned his attention to Jenny. “I agree, he does need time to process. But let me make myself clear. I’ve spoken with my lawyer, and matters are well in the works to have my parental rights returned to me.”

“No.” She stared at him as if he’d told her he got his jollies mutilating puppies.

“Yes. My attorney is drafting the documents as we speak. I only need to sign them when I get back to Manhattan. Once they’ve been filed, Austin will be where he belongs. With me.” Okay, probably not smart to tell her that—she looked as though it might not be beyond her to stage an “accident” before that happened.

No. That wasn’t murder in her eyes; she looked...crushed. Bereft. Sick to her soul.

And because he knew exactly how that felt, he gentled his voice. “Look, I don’t intend to grab Austin and run.” Okay, so his initial reaction when he’d heard both the Pierces were gone had been exactly that—to get back here, command Austin to pack up, then drag the kid back to where Jake had built a life for himself, at least for the part of each year he was in-country.

But he wasn’t gonna be that guy. He wasn’t going to be his father. “I’m not here to yank the rug out from under him that way. I know he needs time to adjust, to get to know me.”

She sagged in patent relief, and it bugged him that he was so attuned to her, that he harbored an urge to relieve her mind. It would be better for all concerned if no one entertained any false hopes.

“Make no mistake,” he instructed in his coolest voice, “my life is in New York and we will be moving there. I’ll stay here to give my son time to get accustomed to the idea. While he does, I’ll find out what, if anything, needs to be done about Emmett’s estate.”

Suspicion entered her eyes and he narrowed his own in response. “Don’t even go there. I’m not after Austin’s money—I’ve got plenty of my own.”

“And I should believe you because...?”

God! Why did that look, that tone, make him want to loom over her, to step too close, crowd into her space and see how she dealt with it?

The urge startled him, because, really, where the hell had that come from? He’d never manhandled or acted threatening toward a woman in his life.

And looking into her fierce little face, he almost snorted. Mighty Mouse here would probably call the sheriff’s department if he even looked like he was about to make a misstep. And rightly so, considering she was a woman alone in her house with him—a stranger she didn’t know from Adam and mistrusted the little she thought she did know.