ny Man of Mine:

Is Responsible

By noon, Autumn was dressed in jeans and plain white T-shirt. She flat-ironed her hair until it was smooth and shiny and brushed on a little mascara and tinted lip gloss. And yeah, she’d made the effort to look presentable because Sam had called and said he was dropping Conner off himself at noon. No, she didn’t care about impressing him, not that she could, anyway, but neither did she want to open the door looking tired and scary. Which was how she usually looked on Sundays.

By half past twelve, she stood in the living room, looking out the big window. By one, she paced with her cell phone in hand dialing Sam’s number. He didn’t answer, and all sort of horrible scenarios ran through her brain. Everything from a car accident to kidnapping. Every time she heard an engine in the distance, she pressed her forehead to the glass and looked down the street. Every time it wasn’t Sam, her anxiety shot up a notch.

When Sam finally pulled his big red truck into her driveway at one thirty, she was out the door before he put the vehicle in park.

“Where have you been?” she asked as she tore down the steps, her gaze scanning the inside of the truck and stopping on Conner strapped inside. At the sight of her son, all her worry and anxiety turned to anger.

Sam slid his long legs out of the truck. His running shoes hit the pavement, and he stood there in jeans and a dark blue pullover fleece as if he were in no hurry. As if he weren’t an hour and a half late.

“Hey there, Autumn.” A pair of old-school Ray-Bans sat on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, and the afternoon sun shone in his hair like he was some golden warrior.

Her cheeks felt all hot, and she had to take a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Do you know what time it is?” There, that sounded calm.

Sam pulled back the sleeve of his North Face fleece and looked at the big platinum watch on his wrist. “Sure, it’s about one thirty,” he answered as if she’d merely inquired. He reached inside the truck and pulled out Conner’s little SpongeBob backpack.

“Hi, Mom,” Conner said as he followed his backpack out the driver side.

“Where have you been?” she asked again.

Conner jumped to the ground beside his father. “Shorty’s.”

Was that some sort of bar? Strip club? God knew Sam loved the strippers. “Whose?”

“It’s an arcade downtown,” Sam elaborated. “Just a few blocks from my condo.”

“We had hot dogs.” Conner’s blue eyes got wide with excitement. “I played pinball. I got lots of points.”

The two high- and low-fived each other, and Autumn felt the familiar tic behind her right eye whenever she had to deal with Sam. She didn’t know if it was an aneurysm or blood clot. Neither was good. “Great. Wonderful.” She forced a smile for Conner’s sake. “Tell your dad good-bye.”

Sam squatted down, and Conner stepped between his widespread knees. “Bye, Dad.” He wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and held tight. “Maybe we can go to Shorty’s again.”

“Sure.” He hugged him, then pulled back to look in his face. “Or we’ll go to a movie or you can come to a game like we talked about.”

Autumn didn’t need to see Conner’s face to know he was looking at his dad like he was the best thing since double hot fudge cake. All the guy had to do was feed him the crumbs of his attention, and Conner totally ate it up.

Conner nodded. “And fish.”

Sam laughed as he rose. “Maybe next summer.”

Conner grabbed his backpack from the ground. “Okay.”

“Run inside and put your stuff away.” She laid her hand on her son’s cool, fine hair. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Conner looked up at her, then back to Sam.

“See ya, buddy.”

“See ya, Dad.” He gave his dad’s leg a quick hug, then headed up the steps to the front door.

Autumn folded her arms beneath her breasts and waited until he was inside. Then she turned to face Sam. She didn’t want to yell or scream or sock him in the head. She didn’t want to be that crazy person. Like before. She was in control of herself now. “You said you’d have him here at noon.”

“I said ish.”

“What?”

“I said noon-ish.”

The tick in her eye moved to the center of her forehead. “What is that? Some sort of special Sam time? While the rest of the world lives and operates in time zones, you’re special and operate in ish?”

He smiled like he thought she was funny. “I wanted to spend a little more time with him, Autumn. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend a little time with my son.”

He made it sound so reasonable. “You’re an hour and a half late. I thought something might have happened.”

“Sorry you were worried.”

That wasn’t good enough. Besides, she didn’t believe him. He threw the word around, but he didn’t mean it. Sam was never sorry about anything. “When you didn’t show up, I called.”

He nodded. “I forgot my phone at home. When we got back, I saw that you’d phoned.”

“What? You didn’t think to return my call? To let me know Conner was okay?”

He folded his big arms over his equally big chest. “It occurred to me, but by the way you blew up the phone with all your calls, I knew you’d chew my ass. Just like you’re dying to do right now. And to tell you the truth, I’m never going to purposely call anyone who’s dying to chew my ass.”

She took a deep breath and glanced up at the big window and Conner’s little face glued to the glass. Holding on to her control by a thread, she calmly said, “You’re immature and irresponsible.”

“Well, sweetheart, I’ve never said I wasn’t irresponsible. But you’re too controlling.”

“He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too.”

“He’s your son when it’s convenient for you.”

“Well, it was convenient today. Get over it.”

Get over it? Get OVER it? The tic in her forehead stabbed her brain, and her control snapped. “What about next time? What about when you blow him off next week or the week after? What about when he’s looking forward to seeing you, and you blow him off for a party with your buddies?”

“I have events that I am required to attend.”

“Were you required to attend that harbor cruise with half-naked women? Or how about all your trips to Vegas for craps and lap dances?” Although how, given their history, he could ever set foot in Vegas again was beyond her.

He rocked back on his heels. “Is this about jealousy?”

She rolled her eyes. Pain squeezed the bridge of her nose, and she was instantly sorry. “Get over yourself, Sam. You might think the sun rises and sets on your sorry ass, but I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t.” She glanced up at Conner, staring down at her. “And the one person who thinks it does, you totally blow off.”

“I’d be with him more if I could. You know my schedule makes it difficult.”

“If he were a priority in your life, you’d make time.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “You had this past summer off, but you only spent three weekends with Conner. You canceled on him at least eight different times, and every time you did, I had to try and make it up to him. Every time you’ve ever let him down, I’m the one who has to tell him that you love him and would be with him if you could. I’m the one who has to lie to him.”

His jaw tightened. “I do love him.”

“And we all know how much your love is worth.” She shook her head. “While you’re off playing hero to thousands of other little boys, your own son cries himself to sleep like his heart is breaking.”

His arms fell to his sides, and he rocked back on his heels as if she’d hit him. “I’m no one’s hero.”

“I know that.” She pointed toward the window without looking up at her son. “But he doesn’t. Not yet. He doesn’t know you’re just a selfish prick unworthy of him, but he’ll figure it out someday.” She gasped and covered her pounding forehead with one hand. “Oh my God. I wasn’t going to do that. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want to be angry and call names. No matter how true.”

He said just loud enough for her to hear, “He cries himself to sleep?”

“What?” She glanced up at the window. At her son looking down at his parents. He didn’t look upset. He hadn’t heard her call Sam a bad name. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?” She brushed her hair back and sighed. Suddenly tired. “You never stick around to pick up after yourself. I’m sure you never even give it a thought.”

“Are you talking about Conner?”

“Who else?”

Over the top of his sunglasses, one brow rose up his forehead.

“Other than how your actions affect my son’s life, I don’t care about you, Sam. I haven’t for a long time. My only concern is Conner.”

“That makes two of us.”

Hardly, she thought. “I see that he has everything he needs.”

“He needs a man’s influence.”

Had he been talking to her brother? “He has Vince.”

“Vince is an asshole.”

“So are you, but at least Vince keeps his promises. Conner knows he can count on Vince.”

He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out as if she exhausted him. “I told Conner he could come to my games, and I’ll make sure he gets a good seat.”

“He can’t stay up that late, or he’ll fall asleep at school.”

“Not on Saturdays he won’t.” He climbed inside his truck and shut the door. “I’ll have Natalie call you.”

Conner didn’t like hockey. He was a pacifist, but if he wanted to go, she didn’t have a problem with Natalie taking him. Besides, Sam would lose interest, and it wouldn’t be an issue anyway.

Sam didn’t wait for her response. Just shoved the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway. From the window above, Conner waved, but typical of Sam, he didn’t look up and notice. Autumn frowned and shook her head as she moved up the steps to the front door. Off in the distance, the rumble of bad-dog pipes rattled the air.

Great. Vince. Like she didn’t have enough drama.

She paused on the top step and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun. The hatred Vince and Sam shared was no secret, and she hoped the two didn’t stop and duke it out on Morning Glory Drive. She held her breath as the two passed, and although she couldn’t see that far, she wouldn’t put it past either to flip each other the bird.

She stood on the porch and waited. She loved her big brother. Loved him for a lot of good reasons, but mostly because he had her back. No matter what. He was loving and fiercely loyal. He fought for her. Always had, but sometimes he took his job as big brother and uncle a little too seriously. But that was Vince. He was a former Navy SEAL who didn’t believe in half measures. He had dark demons that he never talked about and lived by the motto: “Sometimes it is entirely appropriate to kill a fly with a sledgehammer.”

He pulled the Harley to a stop in the driveway where Sam’s truck had just been parked and killed the engine. He swung one long leg over the bike, stood, and ran his fingers through his short dark hair.

“I thought the idiot was supposed to stay away from you,” he said as he walked up the steps. His boots thudded on the concrete.

“He just dropped Conner off. No big deal.” No need to mention that he’d been an hour and a half late and had worried her. No need to poke the bear with a sharp stick. “So, why are you here?” Although she figured she already knew.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you today.”

“You saw me yesterday.” She made a motion with her hand. “Come on. Get it out before we go inside.”

He smiled, his bottom teeth slightly crooked but very white. “After last night, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“You could have called.”

“You would have lied.” He dipped down and looked into her eyes. “Do I need to kill him?”

She might have laughed if she knew with a hundred-percent certainty that he was joking. She wasn’t certain, but she didn’t hold it against him. There were probably a lot of people who wanted to kill Sam. She’d seen him play hockey, and a few minutes ago, she’d wanted to kill him herself. “No. I didn’t really even see him last night.” Which wasn’t technically true. She’d seen his blond head every time she’d entered a room. “We didn’t talk much.” Which was true.

“So, you’re okay?” She suspected that Sam and Vince hated each other so intensely because they were alike in some ways. They were both handsome and arrogant and total horn dogs. The difference between them was that Vince put his family above all else.

There’d been a time when Conner had been younger when she’d relied a lot on her brother, but she was stronger now. As much as she loved and still needed Vince, there were times when she wished he’d find a nice girl, get married, and have his own family. He’d make a great dad, but of course, that whole horn dog thing always got in the way of a serious relationship. “You didn’t need to tear over here.”

“I wanted to come anyway.”

Right. Autumn opened the door, and Vince followed her inside. “I’m a big girl now. I can handle Sam.” They moved upstairs to Conner’s room. He stood by his bed, pulling his dirty pajamas out of his backpack.

“Hey, Nugget,” Vince said, using Conner’s nickname as he crouched by his side and ruffled his hair.

“Hey, Uncle Vince.” Conner pulled out his little undies. “I played pinball with my dad.”

“Oh, yeah? That sounds like fun.”

He nodded. “I ate a hot dog.” He turned to his mom. “Can I have a new quilt?”

“What’s wrong with your Barney quilt?”

“Barney sucks.”

She gasped, and her mouth fell open. “But—but—You love Barney. He’s your purple friend.”

He shook his head and sniffed. “Barney is for babies.”

“Since when?”

He shrugged. “Since I’m in the kindergarten now. I’m big.”

He’d just torn a chunk of her heart. They’d picked out the material and made the quilt together. The pillow, too. “You don’t want your Barney pillow?” He loved his Barney pillow.

“Nope.”

Autumn gasped and grabbed the T-shirt above her heart. This was Sam’s doing. She couldn’t prove it without quizzing Conner, but she was sure Sam was responsible for Conner’s sudden Barney defection.

Vince rose and turned to face her. “The kid’s got a point,” he said, totally going to the dark side with Conner. “Barney sucks hairy dinosaur balls.”

“Language!”

Conner laughed, but Autumn was not amused.

While you’re off playing hero to thousands of other little boys, your own son cries himself to sleep like his heart is breaking.

Sam stood on the balcony and looked out at Seattle and Elliott Bay beyond. The 2:05 ferry slid through the water, loaded with cars and passengers and headed for Bainbridge Island. Below him, the sound of traffic drifted upward to the tenth floor, and a brisk breeze brushed his face, carrying the scent of car fumes and the Puget Sound.

While you’re off playing hero…

Sam moved away from the rail and sat in a padded patio chair. He reached for the Beck’s sitting on the table next to him. He’d always assuaged his guilt by telling himself that when Conner was older, he’d make it up to him. He’d spend more time with him. Doing father-and-son stuff. Not that he knew anything about father-and-son stuff.

He raised the beer to his lips and tipped his head back. He was an even worse dad than his own. He would never have thought that was even possible, but he’d outshittied Samuel LeClaire Sr. in the father department. Because he knew better. He knew he never wanted to be the guy who treated strangers better than his own family. He never wanted to be the guy whom everyone else in town thought was great. One hell of a guy. A hero, but a hero who had nothing left for his family by the time he got home and took off his uniform.

Sam knew all too well how that felt. Sam was thirty-five. His old man had been dead for twenty years, but he could still remember waiting for his dad to come home and falling asleep before he arrived. He remembered throwing himself into hockey. Excelling. Standing out. Being a star, thinking that maybe, just maybe if he was good enough, his dad would come and see him play.

He doesn’t know you’re just a selfish prick unworthy of him, but he’ll figure it out someday. He remembered the night he’d stopped waiting up, stopped caring if his dad came to one of his games. He’d been about ten when he’d realized his dad was never going to do the things he saw other dads do with their sons. His dad was never going to shoot the puck with him or come to one of his games. He was never going to look up and see his dad in the stands, sitting next to his mother and sister.

He ran his thumb up the cool bottle, collecting dewy droplets that slid to the crease and dripped over his knuckle. It was true that his work schedule was tough. During the season, he spent half his time on the road, but it was equally true that he’d left the responsibility of raising his son to Autumn. Breezing into town, spending some quality time with Conner before breezing back out. Autumn was more responsible than he was. So much so that it was sometimes hard to square her with the girl he’d met in Vegas.

A cool damp breeze brushed his face and the side of his hot neck. He’d always told himself that quality was more important than quantity. Wasn’t that true? He was pretty sure he’d heard some child psychologist say that on a news program once, and this past summer, he’d had more obligations than usual. Because of the Cup win, he’d been expected at more fan and press events.

He raised the beer to his mouth and took a long drink. The weekends in Vegas and the blowout parties with his buddies hadn’t been obligations. And yeah, a few times he’d canceled on Conner to party with his friends. And maybe it was more than a few times, but he’d never thought Conner was affected by his absence. Never dreamed his son cried himself to sleep.

He lowered the bottle and balanced it on the arm of the chair. Out of all the men on the planet, he should have known better. Out of all the men on the planet, he did know better. He also knew that sometimes shit happened, and, when it did, it was too late.

He remembered the night two Mounties knocked on the front door and told his mother that her husband had been killed during a raid on a farm in Moose Jaw. Constable LeClaire had been the first through the door and the first out of four others to die. He remembered looking at his dad’s casket, one in the line of three others. He remembered seeing him in the red uniform he loved and had chosen over his family. He remembered hearing the cries of all the other kids who’d lost their fathers. He remembered holding his sister, Ella’s hand while she cried and listening to his mother’s quiet sobs. He remembered feeling ashamed. Ashamed because he felt very little for the man everyone else loved and thought was a hero.

He’d been fourteen when he’d had to step into his father’s shoes. Just a month shy of his fifteenth birthday when he’d assumed the responsibility of man of the house. When it came to his ten-year-old sister, he’d taken the job seriously. He’d always looked out for her, and she’d followed him like a shadow. A shadow with a bouncy blond ponytail. In Ella’s big blue eyes, he’d replaced their father. He was a damn hero.

Sam grabbed the neck of the bottle and turned it slowly on the wooden arm of the chair. He’d never wanted to be anyone’s hero. God knew what a piss-poor job he’d done for Ella, but he did want his kid to sleep at night knowing his daddy loved him.

Which brought his thoughts around to Conner’s mama. So, maybe he should have called Autumn and told her they were going to be late. Honestly, he hadn’t given it a thought, and it hadn’t occurred to him until he’d seen how many times she’d called his cell. By then he figured the damage was done. He hadn’t needed to see her flying down those steps toward him to know he was in trouble. Hell, he’d known it before he’d turned onto her street. What he hadn’t counted on was her looking so wild and hot. All that red-and-gold hair flying about her head and her green eyes on fire. If she hadn’t opened her mouth and started bitching, he might have found himself in the uncomfortable situation of remembering the last time she’d looked like that. All crazy and wanting to do damage. Only that time she hadn’t been angry. She’d torn at his clothes until he was naked, and her mouth was all over him, doing her worst, leaving him gasping, spent, and wanting more.

The first time he’d seen her, she’d been dancing by herself, one hand over her head, the other on her stomach, and moving her hips slow and seductive. He’d been on his feet walking toward her before he’d had a coherent thought in his head. He’d moved up behind her and put his hands on her waist. The second he’d touched her, he’d felt something. A spark of some little something hit him in the belly.

She’d thrown a sharp little elbow into his stomach, right about where he’d felt that little spark of something, then she turned to face him. Her eyes had rounded with fear, and she looked like she was thinking about running. He hadn’t blamed her, but he hadn’t been about to let that happen either.

Autumn hadn’t fallen into bed with him that first night, but once he got her there, they hadn’t left. Seeing her fly at him today, brought back memories of her naked against him. Of her white skin and firm white breasts in his hands and mouth. Autumn might not have his perfect body type, but her body was perfect. And for those few days in Vegas, when nothing had been real, she’d seemed perfect, too.

Sam raised the bottle and took a long drink. Then he’d woken up, hungover and wrung out and wondering what the fuck he’d done. He’d married a girl he had just met and didn’t know. Hell, he hadn’t even known where she lived.

The month before that disaster in Vegas, he’d signed a five-million-dollar, three-year, contract with the Chinooks. With one reckless act, he’d put it at all risk. With one reckless act, he’d changed his life forever. Autumn’s, too.

He had never been sure what had pissed Autumn off more—him leaving her alone in Caesars without so much as a good-bye, the way he’d handled the divorce, or his insistence on a paternity test. Out of those three things, the only one he would change if he could was the way he’d left. He’d man up and say good-bye. It would have been the hard thing, but it would have been the right thing to do.

Sam placed the heels of his palms on the arms of the chair and rose. He wasn’t as bad a dad as Autumn portrayed him, but he wasn’t as good as he needed to be either. All that had to change. He had to do the right thing. He had to go as hard at seeing his son as he did at playing hockey. He looked at his watch and took one last pull from his beer. Some of the guys were getting together at Daniel’s for poker night. Sam was down three thousand and would love the opportunity to win it back.

Getting more serious about his personal life didn’t mean he had to give up everything else. Didn’t mean he had to give up poker night.