13. Dexter
Iwipe my sweaty paws on the thighs of my jeans and knock on the door to room number 102 at the Mount View Motel.
There’s the sound of hurried footsteps, and then the door opens. Hope puts her hands on her hips when she sees me and cocks her head to one side. Her eyes are red and puffy, and I hate that I’m the one that caused that.
“How did you know where I’m staying?”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. I forgot that I did something creepy and followed her to her motel.
“I followed you last night.” There’s no point in lying. She may as well know all the stalkerish things I’ve done in the past year to try to find her.
“I was going to tell you…something…but then I saw you with your…” My mouth curls up in distaste, and I can hardly get the word out, “…partner.”
She peers at me, confused. “My partner?”
“Khaki pants, cropped hair, clean hands, knows how to hold a baby.”
She stares at me like I’ve got a screw loose. “You mean Calvin?”
Calvin. He’s even got a nice clean name. I hate this guy.
She barks out a laugh then covers her mouth, trying to be quiet. “Calvin’s my brother-in-law.”
“Your brother-in-law? He’s married to your sister?”
She nods. “Yeah. Did you think…?”
“Fuck.” I run my hand over my beard. “I’m such an ass. I saw him with a baby and thought you two…”
She laughs. “Oh, that’s funny. Wait till I tell Grace. Calvin’s a sheriff, and he insisted on coming with us in case you were sketchy.”
So he’s a protective brother-in-law looking out for Hope and the baby. I love this guy.
The smile slides off her face, and she narrows her eyes at me. “It’s no excuse for being an ass.”
She’s right, and I humbly nod my head. “I know. I’m sorry. Being an ass is my MO. I’m so sorry, Hope. I’m really trying to make sense of all these feelings, because I love you and I want you to know that even if you tell me to fuck off.”
She looks at me for a long time and I hold my breath, hoping like fuck I’ve done enough groveling to buy me a few more moments with her.
She says nothing, so like an idiot I keep babbling.
“You’re all I’ve thought about in the past year, and if you don’t want to be with me, I understand, because you need someone less fucked up than me to help you raise that kid.” Her expression softens, and I keep talking. “But please tell me about the baby. Is he really mine?”
She drops her hands and steps aside.
“You better come in.”
The motel room is a large family suite with two bedrooms and a small communal area with a kitchenette. There’s a travel crib in the corner, and Hope ushers me over. I take a deep breath and peer over the top.
A tiny human is wrapped up in a yellow blanket, his eyes closed and mouth open making soft rattling noises as he sleeps. A tuft of wispy red hair sprouts from the top of his head, the same shade as mine.
The full weight of it hits me.
“Fuck.” The baby stirs and I cover my mouth quickly, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Shit sorry. I shouldn’t swear in front of him.”
“Justin. Your son’s name is Justin.”
“Justin.” I test the name out. And he’s my son.
I nod stupidly as emotions well up inside me. My eyes sting, and I blink away tears. I turn away and cough to hide the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.
Hope puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
I nod and go sit down on the settee before my legs give way. I’ve got a fucking son.
“How did this happen?”
She giggles, and the sound is fucking beautiful because it means she’s forgiven me, I think. “Well, do you remember that night…?”
“I’ve spent a year reliving that night, but we used a condom.”
She shrugs. “I guess it leaked or something.”
“They can leak?”
“I was as surprised as you were, Dex, believe me. I spent weeks trying to figure it out before I gave up and realized I just had to get on with it.”
“Shit.” I’m being ineloquent, but I’m still in too much shock to form a proper sentence.
I have a son and Hope went through it all on her own, the entire pregnancy and the birth. She was alone when I should have been there for her.
“I’m so sorry, Hope. I had no idea.”
“I’m not sorry.” She smiles wistfully. “Justin is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not sorry at all.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have been there for you.”
There’s a cup of steaming liquid on the coffee table, and she picks it up and stirs it. The faint aroma of some herbal shit reaches my nostrils.
“The last time I saw you Dex, you were chasing me down the road with an axe.”
She has a point; I wouldn’t have wanted to see me again either.
“What changed?”
She takes a sip of the tea, and her nose scrunches up for an instant. “Fenugreek.” She swallows her mouthful with a wince. “It’s supposed to regulate hormones.”
I nod like I fucking understand, but all I understand is that she’s been figuring this out all on her own when I should have been there with her.
“I had Justin and realized I didn’t want him to grow up without knowing his father. I didn’t know how to contact you, but I knew I had to try.”
“So you and your sister and her clean cut husband came on a trip out here to find out if I was suitable father material?”
“Something like that.”
So she didn’t come back for me. It was for Justin. Disappointment cuts hard, which is probably what she’s feeling too.
“Well fuck. Sorry to disappoint you. I’d be a terrible father.”
Hope frowns at me. “What makes you say that? You’re thoughtful and generous. You buy foster kids ice cream and take them out for fun.
“I swear too much, I smuggled Ty into a PG-13 movie when he was eleven, I let him have the full sugar soda and the double cheese pizza, I had to take him to the emergency room once because he busted his thumb after I leant him tools to make his own birdhouse, I have a collection of sharp axes, I listen to death metal, and I fucking destroy things for a living.”
There are a hundred reasons why I wouldn’t be a good father, but I know what the main one is. I take a deep breath.
“And I never had a father of my own. I don’t know what they do or how they’re meant to be. I’d only fuck it up.”
She sets her tea down on the coffee table next to a pile of colored thread and a cross stitch hoop.
She’s almost finished a black and red pattern. It’s red roses with skulls in the center and cursive writing that says Don’t Fuck With Me Today.
I look up in surprise. “This is your cross-stitch?”
She giggles at my reaction.
“Yeah. That one’s made to order. Usually I do my own designs.”
There’s an open sketch pad with doodles across it and another pattern. This one says Fierce Bitch, the words written with the stems of intertwined flowers.
“I thought you did flowers and shit. But these designs are badass.”
“They are flowers,” she points out.
But they aren’t the wholesome designs I’ve spent the last year looking at online.
“I started doing cross stitch after Mom died. I was drawn to dark designs, turning something tragic into something beautiful.”
“They’re really good.” Like fucking good. So original and dark and beautiful. Like Hope is.
“Do you want to give it a try?”
I shake my head. “Not with these sausage fingers. I’d fuck it up.”
She smiles. “I mean being a father. Do you want to give being a father a try?”
She looks at me with hope in her eyes, and my heart swells. I want to be a father; I want to be whatever man she needs me to be.
“Yes. I do. If I can do it with you.” I grab her hands and almost pull her off the couch in my eagerness to make her understand how I feel. “I’ve been lost this last year without you, Hope. I spent every Friday night in that shitty bar hoping you’d turn up. I want to be a father, but more than that I want to be your man; I want to be a family.”
The smile she gives me is everything, and like the bumbling fool I am, I push on.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Justin sooner? I would have taken him on. I want to be with the both of you.”
“I wanted to make sure your feelings were real and not just you doing your duty.”
“They’re real, baby. I’ve thought of nothing but you for the last year. They’re fucking real. I want to be with you, Hope and Justin, however that looks. I’ll move if you need me to, whatever you want for our family.”
I squeeze her hands, suddenly terrified it’s not what she wants. “Oh fuck, please tell me you feel the same. I’m sweary and hairy, and I’ll probably never get all the dirt out from under my nails, but you’ll never meet anyone who loves you more. I swear, I’ll do my best to be a better man for you and for Justin.”
She holds our hands up, and I release them a little bit before I crush her fingers. “I don’t need you to be a better man, Dex. I just need you to be yourself, because that’s the man I fell in love with.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
She laughs, and I breathe a massive sigh of relief.
“I want us to be a family too. There’s no better father for our son. I love you, Dex.”
Her words fire something in my soul. And as I lean in and kiss her, a sense of calm and peace comes over me. I found my home; I found my family. It’s right here with Hope.
She kisses me back, and the scent of her hair and the feel of her body has my blood heating. As she moves against me on the couch my cock springs to life, and I’m overcome with the urge to reclaim my woman.
“When is your sister due back?”
“They’ve gone for lunch.” She giggles, getting my meaning.
I kiss her arm. My lips move up her shoulder and toward her neck.
“And how long do babies sleep for?”
My hand creeps up her thigh, and she gasps as it slides between her legs.
“We’ve got about another twenty minutes, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Twenty minutes, huh?” I take her by the hand and pull her to the bedroom. “Which one’s yours?”
She points to the door on the left, and I drag her inside.