29. Walker
Walker
I t’s been thirty-six hours since Phoenix’s lips were last pressed against mine. And I can still barely breathe.
We’ve kept our interactions to a minimum since blowing up at each other, our hearts scorched and raw, but I have to talk to him.
I’m supposed to meet Alexis this afternoon and a sick part of me still hopes he’ll come along.
Phoenix isn’t working today, but I haven’t seen him all morning so I send him a text.
Walker:
I’m meeting Alexis in two hours. I can take the Jeep if needed?
Phoenix:
I’m taking you.
Walker:
Just seems like a lot for where we are right now.
Phoenix:
It is, but that doesn’t mean I want you going alone.
Walker:
Okay
With that settled, I grab clean clothes and head for the shower.
If I end up staying the whole three months now, it’ll be a miracle. Being in Phoenix’s house, in his life , was far more bearable when I had hope for a future together, but apparently, I’ve fallen for the only asshole with a stubborn streak wider than mine.
Phoenix isn’t budging on his reasons for why we can’t be together, and although there is a hint of validity to them, I’m confident we could work it out.
But no, he insists on torturing us both.
I make sure I’m extra clean, scrubbing all the nooks and crannies. Nothing like being inspected by your kid for the first time to really add the pressure. As I bathe, I think back over the conversation I had with Alexis last night.
The one where we agreed not to tell Colton that I’m his father just yet.
It was a tough decision, but ultimately, the truth is I don’t know if I’ll see him again after this.
Phoenix was right…my life is in Texas…what little of it remains, at least. And with things with Phoenix over before they even began, staying in North Carolina doesn’t sound appealing at all.
If that seems selfish, it’s because I am.
But at the end of the day, how fucked up would it be to tell the kid I’m his dad, meet him once, and then dip back out of his life?
What kind of complex would that give him?
And as much as I hate it, I just can’t commit to staying.
I don’t have a traditional lifestyle and Colton certainly doesn’t have a traditional family.
So, we agreed to tell him I’m an old friend of Alexis’s from high school— truth— and I’m up here visiting a friend of mine— mostly true, although “friend” is a bit of a stretch at the moment— and that I ride broncos.
Alexis thought the last part would help give Colton and I some common ground since he’s in his rodeo phase and all.
By the time I shut the water off, my gut is churning. I carefully towel off and put my brace back on. I have a follow up at the doctor’s office the week after next for another set of x-rays.
I pull my boxers on easily enough, but I want to wear jeans today and the button is still giving me a challenge. I feel like a slob wearing gym shorts and athletic pants every day, but more than that, I want to look my best for Colton…and Alexis.
I slide the denim up my legs and move on to my dress shirt. I chose the one with the opal buttons from the first night of the rodeo—okay, maybe I’m hamming it up a tiny bit, but I’ll take all the help I can get when it comes to earning cool points with an eight-year-old.
Shockingly, I’m able to manage the buttons on the shirt easily because the fabric gives, but after three attempts, it’s clear the button and zipper on the jeans are a no-go.
Shoving my pride and embarrassment aside, I crack the bathroom door open, listening for any sound down below .
Bingo.
The kitchen sink is running.
I walk downstairs to find Phoenix drenched in sweat, shirtless, and his gym shorts slung far too low on his hips. They also ride too high on his thighs to be considered decent.
Unsure how to approach this, I crack a joke because acknowledging my hard-on won’t help either of us, especially given the request I came down here to make .
“Yeah, I’m gonna need some kind of signal to stay in my room if you’re going to be walking around in nothing but man-panties. Rejection is one thing, Phoe, but this is borderline torture.”
Phoenix jumps at the sound of my voice.
“Walker, Christ. You scared me.” He grits his teeth and turns back around, moody as ever. “And I didn’t reject you.”
“Right. We’ll have to agree to disagree on that front, but as much fun as arguing about our lack of a future is, I actually just came down here to ask for a favor.”
Without turning to face me, Phoenix says, “I already told you, I’m taking you.”
“Look, this is hard enough without you being a short-tempered, snappy dick. So, if this is how you plan to be for the rest of the day, can you please just stay here? Your attitude isn’t helping, and I wasn’t going to ask about the fucking ride. I thought we’d already settled that.”
Finally , he turns to face me.
It takes less than a second for me to realize it would have been better if he’d kept his back to me. Sweat runs down his sculpted chest and onto his torso, making his abs glisten. His nipples are hard and a perfect deep shade of pink. Hell, they’re practically begging me to put them in my mouth.
Phoenix clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought a run would help clear my head. Didn’t work so well. What do you need?”
“I was able to get the buttons on my shirt done, but I get a pretty nasty twinge of pain trying to do my jeans and I didn’t want to meet my…son,” I choke on the word just a little because this is really happening, “in sweatpants, ya know?”
Phoenix drops his gaze to my unbuttoned jeans and a scowl crosses his face. At least he keeps his attitude to himself this time. He moves past me to walk around the island to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair, plopping his ass in it .
“Come here.”
I move toward him slowly, but he reaches between us impatiently and struggles to fasten the button almost as much as I did.
His knuckles graze my rigid cock as he drags the zipper up, hoping it’ll help with the button part, and I use every ounce of self-restraint I have to not reach out and hold his hand against me.
Finally, he stands up to gain enough leverage to push the button through the hole.
“I’m a lot better at the un buttoning,” he grumbles. “Can’t say I’ve ever buttoned someone back up before.”
I grab Phoenix’s chin until he’s forced to look at me. “If you won’t let me have you, fine , but the absolute last fucking thing I want to hear come out of your mouth is anything about the men and women that do get you.”
In an epic display of word vomit, Phoenix immediately says, “I haven’t slept with any guys since you.” Then, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose like he can’t believe he just said that.
“We’re definitely going to unpack that later, but right now, I need to try and focus on Colton.”
Phoenix nods, finally pushes the button through the hole, and turns for the stairs.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower of my own and then I’ll be ready.”
We ride in silence until my nerves overshadow the tension between him and I. I have to say something or risk puking all over his floorboard.
“Phoenix, I’m freaking out. What do I say? What if he refuses to talk to me? Or just tugs on Alexis’s hand and says he’s bored and wants to go home?”
“Feel him out,” Phoenix instructs rationally. “Most kids are happy to talk about themselves, but others feel uncomfortable with too many questions.”
“Well, how the fuck am I supposed to know which one he is?” I bark. I crack my knuckles, wipe my left palm up and down my thigh, and when I run out of nervous tics, I start fucking with the Velcro on my wrist brace.
The sound must annoy Phoenix because I see his hand reach toward me. I instantly let go of the Velcro strap. Thinking I’ve solved the problem, I’m surprised when he grabs my left hand and laces our fingers together.
I want to ask him what he’s doing or what this means, but I’m so emotionally charged at the upcoming meeting as we take the exit for the park, I just clutch his hand and let the contact work its healing magic the way only Phoenix can.
He doesn’t let go until we’ve pulled into a space and he’s killed the engine.
“I’m going to be sick,” I announce. “This is so much fucking worse than riding a bronc.”
“Hey,” he says, locking me in place with a look, “you can do this. Just be yourself. Tell him about the horses you ride. Oh, and here.”
I watch as he twists in his seat to reach behind him, pulling out a stuffed horse wearing a saddle.
I make yet another joke because otherwise, the weight of my emotion is going to either drown me or choke me out. “Aw, you shouldn’t have. Although it might be nice to cuddle with tonight.”
Phoenix’s tone is serious when he answers. “Kids love gifts. Thought it might help break the ice.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and feel my features make all the ugly faces of someone trying not to cry. With shaking hands, I take the horse from him.
“You know, I think I was wrong earlier. This would honestly be a lot easier if you were a raging dick to me until I’m gone.”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I open the truck door, climb out, grab the stuffed horse, and blow out a breath as I make my way to the playground in the distance.
Irony stabs me in the chest as I realize it was thoughts and concerns about a nameless child that plagued me that night with Phoenix, and now, it’s concerns about Phoenix that accompany me as I make my way to meet the child who now has a name.