21. Dallas
DALLAS
“The CPS caseworker visit was a joke. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t even bother talking to Matt. She acted like me being concerned about him leaving the kids in the truck after driving with them drunk to the bar was overbearing.
“She literally said, and I quote, ‘Were you often overly critical of your ex-husband’s parenting style? You know, some kids’ fathers are never present in their lives at all.’ Like I’m just some bitchy, hypercritical baby mama!”
I blow out a breath, closing my eyes as my mother’s shrill voice comes through the other end of the phone.
“This is outrageous! I can’t believe they’re treating you that way after what he did! It doesn’t even make sense. How are the boys doing today?”
I glance over at the arena, where Duke is showing them how to take the rope off of the dummy bull horns.
They’re both grinning from ear to ear since this is their favorite thing in the world to do. Duke’s muscular arms flex in the golden light of the sun that’s starting to dip down near the horizon.
He’s been around all day, just here.
He was outside doing yard work all morning, within view of the bunkhouse. Then he ordered us pizza for lunch, somehow knowing I hadn’t had time to grocery shop like I usually do when the boys are with their dad.
“They’re fine. I mean, they don’t understand why what happened was so bad. They were scared, of course, but then I was there, and they got to come home with me.”
“Have you heard from Saruman?”
“No. He’s probably still sleeping off a hangover.”
“Bastard. He doesn’t deserve to be a father! We’ll be there in two days, and we’ll go with you to the lawyer’s office to get the process going to sever his rights.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her what the Redford’s lawyer told me last night. Warner doesn’t specialize in child custody, but he knows the basics of Texas custody laws.
The situation makes me sick to my stomach.
If I think about it for too long, I’m afraid I’ll vomit again.
I threw up last night after getting home.
The reality of what had happened melted over me in a physically punishing way.
I’ve had a migraine all day, muscling through it and refusing to cry.
My eyes are still red and puffy from last night’s breakdown.
The boys could’ve easily died in a drunk-driving incident at the hands of their own father. That cold truth is settling over me in a way that’s been difficult to accept.
I love my kids more than life itself. To think someone I once loved and was married to put them in harm’s way has been difficult for me to wrap my head around. I’ve been going in mental circles, trying to make sense of what happened.
Maybe he didn’t realize how drunk he was.
Maybe he was having a mental health episode.
Maybe he didn’t mean to put them in such clear danger.
No matter what I try to convince myself of, the facts are impossible to deny. The boys were terrified.
Matt can’t be alone with them anymore. He’s not a fit parent. What he did was reckless and inexcusable. It has nothing to do with the abuse I suffered. This is a completely different scenario.
“I gotta go, Mom. We haven’t eaten dinner, and I need to figure that out and give them a bath.”
“I love you, sweetie. Try to get some rest tonight.”
“Love you too.”
I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and walk over to the fence surrounding the arena. Duke is kneeling down in the dirt, the twins concentrating on the rope he’s showing them how to tie.
“Loop this side through here, but make sure it’s not too tight. Then you wrap the end through and pull it hard. Here, pull it, Dutton.”
He holds it over for Dutton to pull. He does it with all his might, making me smile at the concentrated look on his face. I tuck a loose curl into the red bandana tied around my greasy hair that I haven’t had time to wash.
Duke’s denim shirt has the top three buttons undone, revealing his muscled chest underneath. His brown cowboy hat is tilted back on his head. Dawson reaches up to grab it. I almost intervene to tell him not to take it, but Duke doesn’t even seem to notice it’s gone.
The brief moment in time makes me wonder what I would’ve been like if I’d never married my ex.
If I’d been pickier, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
If I’d waited a little longer and paid attention to the red flags, my children could have had a father like Duke.
They would be safe, in a two-parent home.
A pang of sadness pierces my gut. The overwhelming guilt of where I am and who I’m forced to share my children with nearly overwhelms me. I want to curl up in the dirt and scream and cry and beg God to explain why I was dealt such a shit hand in life.
Why does Rosie get to be up the road with her sweet little girls tucked safely into bed every night?
Why do some men choose to be good, safe fathers and husbands and some choose to abuse and torment their wives and children?
I feel the warmth of a hand wrapping around mine, jerking me out of my spiraling thoughts. I realize that he’s standing right in front of me, his brows pinched in concern.
I feel the cold tears on my cheeks, and the gasping of my own breaths finally reaches my ears.
I’m having a panic attack.
Duke climbs over the fence, pulling me into his chest. “Shh, shh. I’ve got you. You’re here with me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He rocks me back and forth slowly. The steady beating of his heart in my ear draws me back to reality. I suck in a shallow breath before slowly exhaling it. I grip his shirt in my hand, pressing my face to his chest.
“That’s it, darlin’. Just breathe.”
“You smell good.”
“Do I? I’m sweaty. Been working all day.”
“I like it.”
“Mmm, better watch it with that kinda talk, ma’am.”
“Or what?”
He presses his lips up to my ear. “Or I might have to sneak you into my bed later tonight.”
My core tightens, and suddenly, that’s all I can think about.
I’m desperate for a distraction. I’m needy, practically panting into him.
I swipe my tongue out and taste his skin.
He groans as soon as the salty flavor hits my tongue.
I do it again, feeling the rigid length in his jeans harden against my belly.
He threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, scraping against my scalp.
“Do you want that?”
I nod.
“You and the boys should stay in the main house.”
I lift my head back, blinking up at him. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what, baby?”
“Like my mess is worth it to you.”
His blue eyes soften. “Because you are worth it to me, darlin’.”
“Mommy!”
I blink back the tears and pull away from him when a little hand tugs on my arm. I look down at Dawson, who has dirt smeared across his shirt.
“Dutton threw dirt at me!”
“Okay, then I guess it’s bath time.”
Eden insists that we didn’t keep her up last night, but she doesn’t protest too loudly when I tell her we’ll be staying at the main house for the night. I know she’s been having trouble sleeping since she’s nearing the third trimester, and any little peep of sound the boys make can wake her.
Last night was rough on all of us. Both the boys had a nightmare, and I honestly don’t know how tonight’s going to go.
After giving them a bath, where more water ends up on the floor around the tub than in it, I kiss them, say their prayers with them, and tuck them into the bed in the guest room down the hall from Duke’s.
At first, it was a little odd to me that it was Pops’s room before, but they replaced all the furniture and bedding, so it feels like a new space.
“Mommy, please snuggle,” Dutton whines.
I give in way too easily, sliding between the two of them and pulling them up onto my chest.
“Sing, Mommy,” Dawson says, playing with the ends of my hair.
I do my best to sing to them, starting with “You Are My Sunshine” and ending with “Over the Rainbow.”
After a few minutes of singing, I hear the gentle strum of guitar strings. I turn to see Duke playing softly in tune with me. I gulp when my eyes travel down his frame to see the black sweatpants slung low on his hips. His abs flex as he plays the guitar, eyes locked on mine.
It only takes two songs before they’re both knocked out, breathing heavily. I’m able to slide out from between them and sneak out with Duke, leaving the door cracked open.
I walk into the kitchen and grab the bottle of pinot noir. I fill a glass and lean my hip against the counter. I’m sipping from the rim when I see his broad, tanned shoulders shifting as he walks toward me.
He stops a few feet away and presses his palm to the countertop. He sets the guitar on top of it.
My gaze travels up to meet his eyes, and my heart pounds loudly in my ears. His intense gaze is on my face, eyes hungry. His dark hair is damp from the shower.
He must be a mind reader because he doesn’t say a word. He just walks up to me and grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the kitchen counter. He pushes between my knees, dragging me closer to the end of the counter.
“What do you need right now?”
I search his eyes and hold my breath. I study him, seeing only sincerity and concern reflecting in his gaze.
“I need you as close to me as possible. I need you everywhere.”
“Okay.” He leans in, inhaling the side of my neck.
I haven’t showered since this morning, and his leather and mint scent is washing over me, reminding me I’m not as clean as him.
“Let me shower first.”
“I want you like this.” His tongue brushes out to taste under my earlobe.
I shudder, but his arms go around mine and cage me in.
“I want you right here. Can I have that?”
I feel myself nodding as he lowers down to his knees. The countertop is right under his chin. His eyes are hungry as he reaches for the button of my jeans and undoes it, followed by the zipper.
My heart is pounding, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I lift my hips so he can pull my jeans off. He peels them down my legs slowly, in no hurry. He starts folding my jeans.
“Take your time,” I mumble.
“Oh, I intend to.” He smirks, reaching for my red thong. “I like these.”
He peels them off and gently folds them on top of the jeans. The anticipation feels alive inside my veins. I suck in when he slides his hands under the back of my knees and pulls me closer to the edge, right where his mouth is.
“I want you to relax, baby. Close your eyes and let me take you somewhere.”
He leans forward and kisses the inside of my inner thigh, then the other one. I’m self-conscious that I haven’t showered, but he doesn’t seem to care.
His kisses are getting closer and closer to my lips; every centimeter makes my muscles tense. His hands wrap around my upper thighs, his breath warming my skin.
“Relax,” he coaxes.
I force myself to sink into the counter, leaning back on my hands and closing my eyes. I suck in when I feel his wet tongue swipe over the seam of my lips.
“Mmm,” he moans into me, his mouth vibrating against me.
My mouth falls open when the ecstasy flashes through me. His hands squeeze the tops of my thighs harder, his tongue swirling through my wetness to taste as much of me as he can reach.
“Duke …” I pant.
I’m already getting close. I have no idea how he does this to me. He focuses in on my clit, his fingers reaching up to spread my lips and give him better access. He eats me like he’s famished right here in the family kitchen.
Stars swim above my head, and my whole body tenses up, preparing for the wave of pleasure that’s looming.
His wet tongue feels like heaven on my sensitive nerves. His movements are slow and deliberate. He’s figuring me out like a puzzle, solving me one piece at a time. He laps up my growing wetness and groans with pleasure.
“Duke, I’m gonna …”
He knows to keep doing what he’s doing right now. His tongue keeps working over my clit, twirling and sucking in steady movements. Every muscle in my body tightens, but he doesn’t stop.
I can’t believe I’m hooking up with him right now with everything going on in my life.
I know it can never work, but why is he giving me the best head of my life right now?
I let out a scream when the orgasm finally rips through me. He sucks on the bud of nerves, making my body temporarily feel like it’s floating in space. I gasp, every spark of delicious pleasure melting on my skin.
The sound of my panting breaths fills the kitchen as he slowly pulls back, kissing my inner thigh again before I finally open my eyes.
He licks his lips, gazing up at me from between my legs. “You ready for more, darlin’?”