Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Chance
O ur single dad group wasn’t the same as it used to be. Still good, still some of the best friends I had. But our Saturday nights had definitely changed.
Given that three of the six of us had done away with the “single” designation, it wasn’t surprising. Our weekly Saturdays had recently shifted to biweekly out of necessity. Whereas the big challenge used to be finding babysitters for everyone’s kids, now Knox, Max, and Ben had wives or fiancées to stay with their kids, but that meant their houses wouldn’t work as a gathering spot most weekends. It also meant they often had to work around family plans.
I used to host frequently because our basement had been set up for it with a pool table, dartboard, and big screen, but recently I’d agreed to let Sam take over the basement as her space, hoping if I showed her a little trust and gave her some independence, she’d use it wisely. Her bedroom was now one end of the L-shaped lower level, giving her one hell of a teenage domain. Tonight she had plans to binge as many seasons of Gilmore Girls as she could on the big screen.
My daughter’s so-called friends had indeed written her off after their Thursday night drinking session on the beach had gotten busted. They didn’t care that she hadn’t ratted them out. Even my call to Lacey’s mother hadn’t been what got them in trouble. The cops had discovered them without any help. The result was that Lacey and the mean girls she hung out with no longer wanted anything to do with Sam.
I hated that Sam was hurting, but I believed those girls—and the boys they snuck out to drink with—weren’t the right people for her. She’d spent Friday night at home in the basement away from me—but still home, where I knew she was safe—not drinking and not dealing with some little asswipe pressuring her to do… I couldn’t let myself think too hard about what he might’ve had in mind for her.
The dads and I had agreed to meet at Elliott’s, a dive bar off the beaten track with multiple TVs, damn good wings, and none of the twenty-something meat-market crowd the Barn Bar and the Fly tended to attract.
Some nights we planned our evening around a particular sports event. Tonight it’d been the Predators game, which had ended in a victory.
Our gatherings didn’t usually last too late, as we all had kids to get home to and babysitters to relieve. Once tonight’s game ended, we’d finished our drinks, talked hockey for a few minutes, and now here we were, headed out the door of Elliott’s before ten thirty p.m.
“Look at you fuckers, all eager to get home to your ladies,” West said as the five of us—Luke was home with a sick kid—walked out the door.
“Accurate,” Max said. “That was a hell of a game. The company was good as always. But it’s cold as a son of a bitch out here, and I can’t wait to get home to my warm bed.”
“And the fiancée waiting for you in it,” Knox said.
“That’s the hope.” Max laughed.
“When’s Harper moving in officially?” Ben asked.
“Not soon enough,” Max said as we stood in a clump outside the door of the bar. “She doesn’t want to leave Dakota hanging.”
“I bet she’ll be able to find someone to sublease pretty fast,” Ben said. “Somebody needs to build a new apartment complex in this town. Housing’s starting to be a problem.”
“That housing problem got you a wife,” West pointed out, and we all laughed.
Ben had taken in his friend Emerson and her kids while she hunted for a place to live. Before she could find something in her budget, they’d fallen in love and gotten married at the courthouse.
“We might be heading home earlier than I used to start back when I was in college, but I’m glad we made it work tonight,” Knox said.
“Good times as always,” West said.
We all said our goodbyes. Then Knox, Max, and Ben, who’d parked on the street, walked in one direction while West and I went toward the small lot behind.
“You okay tonight?” West asked as we made our way between the buildings.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I pulled my stocking cap down farther as we emerged to the back side and got smacked by a cold gust of wind.
“You’re quiet. Seemed lost in thought more than once during the game.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. I kept hoping if I told myself that, it’d start being true. So far, no dice.
“You pissed about those little shits that hurt Sam?”
I’d told the guys about Thursday and how her friends had dropped her.
“I wouldn’t mind throwing the one little punk into the middle of the lake with a concrete block tied around his neck,” I admitted.
“My girls aren’t allowed out of the house till they’re twenty.”
I laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“Sam’s still home?” he asked.
Pulling out my phone, I opened the app to locate her. She hadn’t moved. I held it up to West.
“So it’s not her that’s got you upset,” he said.
“I’m not upset,” I snapped.
West looked over at me with his brows halfway up his forehead.
“Hell,” I said, knowing full well I was being a dick. “Do you need to get home to the girls?”
He checked the time. “I told the babysitter I’d be there by eleven. You want to come over for a beer?”
As much as I hated to admit it, I needed to bounce some thoughts off someone before my head blew up. “Sure.”
“I’ll meet you there.” West got in his truck.
I went to my SUV and followed him to his place. I wouldn’t stay long. I wanted to get home to check in with Sam. Maybe she’d let me watch an episode or two with her. I couldn’t care less about the Gilmores, but I hated that my daughter might be lonely or sad.
West lived in a tiny two-bedroom house with his three little girls—seven-year-old twins, Scarlett and Sienna, and four-year-old Nova. I couldn’t imagine how cramped they’d been when his ex was still his live-in girlfriend. But they made do. His daughters were growing up in a house filled with love, regardless of the size of it.
Once he’d let me in, he got the report from Allison, a high-schooler who watched his kids frequently, settled up with her, then peeked in the girls’ room. I heard the bedroom door squeak as he closed it.
“Sleeping like angels,” he said quietly as he reentered the galley-style kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out two Rusty Anchor bottles.
“Thanks,” I said. “Your sitter seems like a good one.”
“She’s a gem. I’d like to hire her for the summer full-time. Their daycare is breaking the bank.”
“It was a lot of money for just one kid back when Sam went. I don’t know how you manage three.”
He swept out his arm. “Livin’ in a shoebox is how.” His eyes sparkled as he said it, telling me without words it wasn’t a hardship and he’d do whatever he needed to for those little girls.
“You ready to spill whatever’s up your ass?” he asked, then took a drink.
I hoisted myself up to the counter and grabbed my beer like a lifeline. “I’ve got a situation.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He followed suit, sitting across from me, his burly body taking up the entire space between the sink and refrigerator.
“I don’t need to tell you this is all confidential, right?”
He brushed me off like I was being stupid. “No shit.”
I took a big swallow of Kayak Smack Ale, holding the bitter liquid on my tongue for a moment. Kemp and our people knew how to brew a damn good ale.
I returned my attention to West’s impatient face. “New Year’s Eve,” I said simply.
Though West had taken off just before midnight that night, he’d given me plenty of hell about my interest in Rowan, but he wasn’t a gossip or a big mouth. As far as I knew, he’d not broadcast my business to anyone after I’d admitted to going to her room.
“The mystery girl,” he said.
“Who ended up working at the brewery.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You didn’t tell me that. How the hell haven’t I heard about this?”
“Nobody seems to have figured out she and I were together that night. By some stroke of luck, no one from work was at the inn’s party.” I shook my head. In this town it was a bigger surprise if a secret didn’t get out.
“Holy shit balls, bro. You work with your one-night stand?” He started to lift his bottle to his mouth and stopped. “Or was it not just one night? You still fucking her?”
“I’m not fucking her.”
His grin widened. “What are the odds of her working for your very small employer?”
Odds indeed.
“That’s not the situation,” I said, once again causing him to lower his beer bottle with his curious gaze locked on me.
His brows rose as he waited me out.
“She’s pregnant.”
“You. Are. Shitting. Me.” He emphasized each word. “Why the hell didn’t you wrap it before you tapped it, Chance?”
“I fucking wrapped it, asshole.” Possibly with an out-of-date condom, I’d realized belatedly.
“Oh, fuck. What are you gonna do?”
I shook my head because I didn’t have an answer yet.
“She’s gonna keep it?” he asked.
“Yep.” I refused to share Rowan’s personal health issues with him.
He studied me for a good long while, then said, “You want me to get the whiskey out?”
I’d tried that last night after Sam had gone to bed. It had solved nothing. I shook my head.
“She was in a vulnerable spot even before this,” I said. “Her grandmother died in December of Alzheimer’s. Rowan was the woman’s twenty-four-hour caretaker. I don’t know details, but she’s been through a shit storm. She’s living at the inn, trying to find a place to rent. She doesn’t have health insurance, doesn’t have much money.”
“What’s she want from you?” West asked.
“Nothing so far.” I didn’t get the impression she was the type to ask for anything.
He narrowed his eyes. “How well do you know her?”
I laughed. “I know her as a coworker, and I know the sounds she makes when she comes apart. Not much in between.” I fought not to let myself think about those sounds every damn night.
West looked thoughtful as he raised his bottle for another drink. I did the same.
“Do you think I should offer to marry her?” I asked after swallowing a gulp.
He slammed his bottle down on the counter next to him. “Fuck no, you shouldn’t. Don’t you dare.”
I hadn’t expected the fierceness of his reply, but West wasn’t one to keep his opinion to himself.
“She doesn’t have insurance or money,” I said. “She could move in rent-free. I could make sure she’s eating well and doing healthy stuff for the baby.”
“She can get her own insurance policy without marrying your dumb ass.”
“It’ll be expensive.”
“For fuck sure. But so would a divorce.”
“Okay, so I don’t need to marry her.” That was a relief if I was honest.
“Sure as shit don’t.” West scoffed. “If you suggested marrying her, you’d come across as a chest-beating control freak who doesn’t think she can make it on her own.”
I considered that and realized he could be right. Control wasn’t what drove me. I wanted to help her out. But I could see where that could be misinterpreted. “So what do I do then?”
“You’ve decided you’re gonna be in the kid’s life?”
I nodded. West did too.
“She can sign up for insurance,” he said.
“I’ll offer her our spare bedroom.”
West scoffed. “How’s that gonna play with Sam?”
I clenched my jaw tight because that was a prime concern. “I’m in a tight spot. Sam and I had a minor breakthrough the other night when she let me comfort her.”
“And now you wanna move in your lady.”
“Rowan is not my lady.”
“Just your baby mama.” West shook his head as if I was screwed, which I pretty much was.
“I won’t tell Sam that right away. I’ll give her some time to get used to Rowan.”
“You think Rowan will go for this plan?”
“I don’t think she has much of a choice. You know how tough it is to find a long-term rental here.”
“I don’t know your lady?—”
“She’s not my lady,” I repeated.
“But nobody likes to feel cornered.”
“I’m not cornering her. I’m offering her a solution to a problem.”
He eyed me, nodding, looking pensive. “Say she says yes, moves in, somehow Sam comes around. Rowan gets big with your baby. You work together, live together, go to childbirth classes together. You really think you’re not gonna fall for this girl?”
I was worried as fuck about falling for this girl, but I’d get through being roommates. It wouldn’t be forever.
“Would you suggest I just leave her to live in some shitty apartment with black mold and leaky windows while she brews my child?” I shot back.
“Fuck. Course not. I don’t think you have much of a choice but to offer.”
“That’s the conclusion I keep coming to.”
“But don’t fucking marry her.”
I nodded, knowing he was right.
I wouldn’t admit it out loud even at gunpoint, but there was a small, dumbass part of me that had gotten a thrill at the thought of Rowan being my wife. It made no sense at all. I wasn’t in the market. I was dad to a teenage handful who needed all my attention and love. Serious relationships weren’t an option.
If Rowan said yes to moving in, the next few months were going to be hairy as hell. I’d have to play the balancing act of a lifetime.
I guessed this was what I got for one night of fun.