20. Duke
DUKE
My heart thunders inside my chest as I watch Dallas’s reaction to Matt’s presence. She must have dropped the glass because the red-haired bartender, Harper, starts sweeping it up in front of her.
“I need a drink,” I tell Delilah, leaving her in the middle of the dance floor.
I feel like a zombie with no control over my body as I walk toward the bar. Matt’s back is to me as I approach. I take the seat two spaces down from him because I don’t think I can sit right next to him without violently lashing out.
“Can I get a beer, beautiful? You know what I like.”
I can immediately tell he’s slurring his words. I’ve only had two beers in the last few hours, but Matt is clearly drunk.
Dallas reaches for a new mug, her eyes flicking from me to Matt. “Where are the boys?”
He ignores her question. She finishes filling the mug up with the beer on tap. Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert.
Something is wrong.
“Matt, where are the kids? Are they at your mom’s?”
He chuckles into his beer. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s your night with them. Why are you here?”
“Can’t a man go out every once in a while and get a beer? My wife left me. I’m allowed to go out and have fun now, even though I’m sad.”
I snort. Harper approaches me, nodding in my direction.
“Miller on tap.”
“Seriously, tell me who has the kids right now.” Her voice has reached a panicked note.
She pulls out her phone, sending a text. I swivel my stool to face them, but a woman has stepped between us to order something, partially blocking my view.
“I’m a good dad, and you can’t convince me I’m not. You left for no fucking reason.”
“I never said you weren’t a good dad! Why won’t you just tell me where they are?”
“They’re sleeping, all right? Can’t we just talk about us?”
“Sleeping where?”
“Sleeping soundly. Completely fine. Damn, you’re so obsessive.”
The urge to interrupt and demand he tell her where the kids are with my fists is strong, but I force myself to remain in place. If I intervene, he’s definitely not going to answer her questions.
“I’m not sure when you got a stick up your ass, but you used to be a lot more fun. Before we got married, you were cool. Do you remember our third date at the Rangers game? What happened to that girl, huh? I miss fun Dallas.”
I finally risk a glance over at them and see her expression. She’s glaring at him, pure rage twisting her pretty face. Her lips are pursed.
“I will ask you one last time before I leave and go find them myself. Where. Are. The. Boys?”
The woman between us finally gets her drink and leaves. I grip the beer I ordered, every muscle in my body taut with tension.
He finally sighs, leaning back on the stool. “They’re in the truck, sleeping. They’re—”
Dallas is already on the move, darting toward the other end of the bar. I jump up and follow her. As soon as she exits the bar area, she starts pushing through the crowd of bodies. It’s not too busy tonight, so she makes it through quickly before heading for the front door.
I catch up to her in the parking lot. My eyes are peeled for the red Chevy. I finally see it, parked halfway up on the curb in the back of the lot. For a split second, I’m worried we don’t have the keys to get in if the boys are inside.
Dallas takes off at a sprint. I’m hot on her heels, passing her and making it to the vehicle a few seconds before her.
“Are they in there?” She pants.
I cup my hands around my face and peer inside. My heart leaps into my throat when I see Dawson and Dutton inside, crying. Their faces are streaked with tears. They look terrified. They’re not buckled into car seats because there’s not even any in the vehicle.
“Hey, buddy. Hey, little man. You remember me?” I pull on the door handle, but it’s locked.
Dallas releases a sob when she catches up to me.
“Oh my God!” She sucks in a ragged breath and presses her hand to the window. “I’m here. Mommy’s here …”
I spin around, determination and anger fueling my steps.
I will kill him and take the keys off of his dead body.
“Wait!” Dallas says.
I turn around and see her hand under the front driver’s side wheel, feeling around on the interior of the metal.
She pulls out a tiny black box and slides the top off.
She sighs in relief when a key falls into her hand.
She uses it to unlock the front door. My chest squeezes when she climbs into the back seat with the boys.
“Mommy’s here. Mommy’s got you!”
I look inside, leaning into the door and assessing the state the boys are in. “Do we need an ambulance?”
She’s holding both of them to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. One of them is clinging to her neck, the other one crying into her chest. My breaths are coming in steady, short bursts as I feel the fury burning through my body.
“No, just the police.” She starts rocking back and forth, whispering to them that it’s going to be okay.
The truck is filthy, and the boys aren’t in much better shape. They don’t look hurt, just like they haven’t had a bath in a couple of days. There’s a Spider-Man blanket on the floorboard. Neither of them is wearing shoes.
“Okay. I can drive y’all home.” I pull out my phone and dial 911.
“We’re talking drunk driving in the middle of the night with two toddlers in the back seat to go harass his ex-wife at her place of work. And he’s not going to lose custody for that?”
I’m not just angry. I’m not just sad or disappointed.
I am vibrating with rage and plotting a murder.
“Duke, I need you to remember that the things I’m telling you aren’t my personal feelings and opinions.
These are the facts. This is how the Texas family court works, how the judge will rule based on the laws that were broken,” Warner, our family lawyer who’s gotten us out of countless sticky legal situations, says from his place near the kitchen island.
Rosie is on the sofa, her arm draped around Dallas’s shoulders. Dallas is nursing a glass of rosé, a hollow look in her eyes.
Holden is behind them, pacing back and forth.
“I’m just not understanding how this isn’t child endangerment and abuse,” I say.
“For starters, he wasn’t caught driving.
He went inside the bar and had more alcohol, which means the actual blood alcohol content he was at while driving isn’t something they can accurately determine.
Trust me, this will look bad on him in court, but best-case scenario is him being ordered to take parenting classes and to use a breathalyzer during his visits for the next few month or two. ”
I gape at him, wondering if I somehow slipped into the twilight zone and this is a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Dallas finishes off her wine and sets the glass on the table. She rises to stand and walks over to Warner. “Thank you. I appreciate the last-minute visit. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go to bed.”
She glances back at me, blinking back tears before continuing to walk down the hallway to where the boys are sleeping. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
Rosie stands and walks over to Holden, getting ready to leave. We all step back outside onto the porch of the bunkhouse.
“We need to—”
Holden cuts me off with a hand on my shoulder. “We will, Duke. We’ll talk tomorrow. The boys are safe for tonight.”
I exhale, nodding. Rosie gives me a sympathetic smile, and Warner shakes my hand before they all three walk toward their vehicles. I go back inside, preparing to sleep on the couch because there’s no way I can leave them alone. Eden is here, but she’s sleeping.
The police basically did nothing, except for take Matt to jail for being too drunk to drive home. If we had rideshare way out here in the boonies, he would’ve been able to just take one home. He wasn’t actually ‘caught’ behind the wheel.
They asked me and Dallas a few questions before sending us on our way with the boys.
I don’t think I’ll be able to get a wink of sleep tonight, but I kick off my boots and set them by the door. I collapse on the sofa, releasing an exhale. When I turn back around, Dallas is standing there in the hallway, gazing at me.
“You need something?”
She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her stomach. “Are you staying?”
“If that’s okay.”
She nods, chewing on her lip.
“Okay. I’ll just be on the couch.”
I take another step toward her, wondering what she’s feeling. Tonight was traumatic, even for me, and I’m not a parent. I have no earthly idea how she’s getting through this, but I just want to be here for her in whatever way she needs.
As I get closer, she tips her head back to look at me. Her eyes fill with tears, and her bottom lip starts to tremble. One single tear spills over the lower rim of her lashes as soon as my hand cups the side of her shoulder.
“Hey, hey.” I pull her into my chest as a sob tears through her.
I wrap both my arms around her, pulling her tightly up against me.
I lay my head down against hers, hating how powerless and weak I feel. There’s not a damn thing I can do about this situation except hug her. She clings to me like I’m the only thing holding her together right now.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here. I’m right here,” I whisper into her hair.
We rock back and forth as she cries. Emotions clog my throat, but I refuse to let the tears fall. I have to be strong for her right now. She doesn’t need someone who’s falling apart. She needs strength and dependability.
After a few minutes, she starts to quiet down. I lead her over to the sofa and pull her onto my lap. She lays her head against my shoulder, sniffling softly.
“I’m glad you were here tonight. I wouldn’t have survived without you,” she murmurs. Her voice is hoarse.
“I’ll be here as long as you need me to be.”
She exhales and holds on to me for a few more minutes before her breath starts to even out. I stare at the cow skull mounted above the fireplace for a long time, my mind scrambling with how we’re going to work through this with the twisted legal system and Dallas’s ex.
When my arm starts to fall asleep, I stand and carry her back to her bedroom, where the boys are sleeping. They’re cuddled up together on the bed, so I gently lay her down on the open side.
“Mommy?” one of them says.
“Hey, bud. Your mom’s asleep.”
I can’t tell which one it is in the dark, but he peers up at me cautiously before looking down at his mom again.
He scoots over to her and wraps his little arm around her shoulders protectively.
I swallow over the emotion in my throat. I remember being a little boy and wanting to take care of my mom. Pops was a good husband to her, but there’s just something about boys wanting to watch out for their mamas.
Losing mine in a car accident at nine years old changed me forever. I think it’s partly why I’ve always kept emotional attachments to women as far away from my heart as possible.
I slowly sneak out of the room, but I leave the door cracked open just in case one of them needs me tonight.