Chapter 43
Forty-Three
“ O h …hello.” Words dissipate as I stare at the little girl…with eyes that match Butch’s.
“Hi.” She tilts her head, long hair falling to the side. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Jacqui.”
“I’m Emmy. My daddy wanted to name me Hemi, but my momma wouldn’t let him.”
The dog circles frenetically, trying to sniff my bags. Emmy lunges for his collar, holding him back. “Knock it off, you kook.” Her bare feet poke out of Cinderella pajamas, and her free hand clutches a teddy bear. She fixes those vibrant green eyes back on me. “You’re real pretty.”
I smile. “So are you.”
“Are you here to see my daddy?”
“Em, what the hell’s going on down there? Why is Hemi barking?” Butch yells from within—and my pulse rapid fires again.
“Some lady named Jacqui wants to talk to you,” she hollers.
“What?” his voice thunders.
Panic floods my bloodstream. “I shouldn’t have come,” I murmur, dropping my bags by the door and backtracking, turning just in time to avoid plummeting down the steps.
Hurrying to my car, I reach the driver’s side when Butch hurtles out the front, stumbling over the threshold. “Jacqui, wait!” His eyes blaze. Shock is splashed across his face. His hair is sopping wet and he’s naked, save for a towel wrapped around his waist, the ends clutched in one hand.
My head shakes, my thoughts reeling and jumbling.
Adrenaline roars through my system. I scramble into the seat.
My hands tremble with such force the key won’t insert, but I finally finagle it before Butch reaches my door, his pleas dulling in my ears.
I back up enough to turn and floor it down the driveway, my vision tunneling.
He has a daughter? Is he fucking married ?
My stomach sours and bucks. I’m going to throw up or pass out. Maybe a combination. I would never, never be with a married man. Anger swirls with confusion, my guts roiling when I reach the end of the driveway and stop.
I need air. Now. With shaky fingers, I grip the handle and roll down the window. My car idles as I inhale deep breaths. Through the side mirror, I spot Butch hurrying barefoot and mostly naked down the gravel drive, still calling my name.
He reaches me, panting. His nipples are taut from the cold, green eyes wild, dark chest hair testifying he’s every bit a man. His free hand braces the roof as he catches his breath.
I close my eyes tight.
“Jacqui—”
“Are you married?” I grit out, my hands balling into fists.
“No! Fuck. No! ”
I face him now, meeting his penetrating gaze. “Is that your daughter?”
“Yes,” he confesses. Fresh goosebumps flutter across his flesh. “Look, will you come back, come inside? Please? Please, Jacqui . Give me a chance to explain.”
His clear angst gives me pause. My heartbeat slows enough that I no longer want to hurl. And he is out here in only a towel, his feet likely torn to shreds, freezing his balls off.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He lets out a long, relieved breath and taps his fingers on the roof of my Toyota. “Do me a solid and let me catch a ride. I feel a tad, uh, vulnerable.”
My lips twitch, regardless of how fucking upset I am. “Fine,” I spit out.
He makes zero haste hustling into the passenger side and we’re both silent as I reverse back to his house. The only sound is his palms rubbing vigorously against each other. I lurch to a stop, yank up the hand brake more forcefully than is necessary, and climb out.
Emmy and the dog are nowhere to be seen, but my bags remain where I deposited them.
“What’s this?” Butch asks.
“I made soup and cookies for you and your parents…” My voice trails off. I’m such an idiot. Me and my big ideas.
His gaze latches onto mine. It’s brimming with warmth and maybe a tinge of awe. “Well, damn. You’re just full of surprises.”
“Oh…I don’t know. Think you got me beat today, Butch.”
He grimaces, then grabs one of the bags with his spare hand. I collect the other and follow him inside.
Emmy and the dog swivel their heads our direction from their post on the carpeted living room floor. They’re prone in front of a television, watching cartoons. A big fireplace is flanked by bookshelves, and a matching brown leather couch and recliner fill out the space.
“Hi again!” she says with a wave.
My cheeks burn as I return it with forced enthusiasm. I’ve acted so foolish and immaturely, and yet, this little girl seems undaunted or unaffected by whatever vanishing act I tried to pull.
Butch leads me into the kitchen, and I set my bag next to his on the island counter. He stands close, his fingers grazing my arm, almost like he’s afraid to touch me. And honestly…I’m not ready for that.
“I’ll be right back. I need to get dressed. Make yourself at home, okay?”
Unable to meet his gaze, I manage a nod.
His footfalls recede, thumping upstairs, and I let another long breath loose, willing my nerves to stop behaving like live wires. Give me grace .
My thoughts attempt a hostile takeover, but that’s about as useful as me learning chemistry. I’ll stifle those urges—until I hear what Butch has to say.
Remembering the soup, I pull it from the bag and place it in the refrigerator. Colorful alphabet magnets clutter the door. The E, M, and Y peg a drawing at an angle—stick figures of a man, girl, and yellow dog with a bone.
The rest of the kitchen comes into focus, and it’s striking.
Masculine and efficient, and different than anything I’ve ever seen.
The cabinets are painted black, with thick wood slabs for countertops.
The stainless appliances remind me of the chrome on cars.
A metal prep table with a shelf underneath serves as the island, and a round dining table with seating for six is tucked into the corner.
Butch hastens down the stairs. He exchanges words with Emmy in tones too low for me to hear then enters the kitchen, seemingly relieved to find me still here. He’s wearing jeans and a navy henley with the sleeves pushed up his forearms and a pair of wooly socks.
His hand grazes my back. “Can I offer you a drink? Coffee or tea?”
“I’ll take coffee, thanks.”
He pours two cups and hands me one, then invites me to sit at the table.
He brings milk and spoons, setting them down before settling into the chair next to mine.
I hold the ribbed glass dispenser upside-down, fixating on the sugar granules drifting from the little metal flip top into my cup to avoid. ..whatever’s coming.
“I married my childhood sweetheart,” Butch says, getting right to it.
“Met her at fifteen and put a ring on her finger once we graduated. We got hitched soon after. Emmy came along four years later and was…unplanned.” He pauses, lowering his voice.
“I used to say she was an accident, and now I realize what a shitty thing that was to say. Emmy is the light of my life. And sometimes life gives you the best surprises.”
He’s so earnest, and part of me wonders…hopes?...if he means me as well as his daughter.
“Before she turned one, her mother left us, saying she couldn’t do ‘this’ anymore,” he continues, air-quoting “this.”
My chest squeezes at the image of a mother walking away from her child. It’s so cold, so…cruel.
Butch inserts two fingers through the handle of his mug, the tips tapping lightly against the ceramic. “I never anticipated her leaving or ending our marriage. Never saw it coming. She seemed happy.”
He scoffs. “Or perhaps that’s my ego talking. Back then, I was still a kid myself. A little wild and self-centered, racing cars with my friends, getting in fights, acting like a total horndog. With her, I mean. My priorities were less clear then.” He shrugs. “Maybe I was an asshole.”
My heart flinches a little, that he justifies being discarded. They were young, in the years when most of us make poor decisions.
Butch’s eyes stray to a spot on the wall. “She had dreams of moving to a big city,” he admits. “She hated small town life, and what she called ‘small town ways.’ She found it suffocating. I figured she’d grow out of it, realize the opposite is true. But then…” He hesitates.
“What?” I prompt .
“Then I started working for my dad, and she wasn’t happy about it.
” He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger as his eyes connect with mine.
“It was a way to make money, but also, I wanted to. I love cars, and I was eager to learn all I could about them plus participate in the family business. The gearhead gene runs strong in our family.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’ve noticed.”
“I’d wager, after that, she believed we’d never leave. And honestly? I’m not sure we would have, or if I could have, which is a pretty fucked-up situation.”
I nod and sip my coffee.
“But how could she walk away from her own daughter? As a parent, I’ve thought about it a lot, and there’s nothing— nothing —that could pry me away from my little girl. Not only because I’m responsible for her, but because…she’s my world. The air that I breathe. The reason I get up in the morning.”
That knot in my throat enlarges and I swallow hard. “She’s never come back or contacted you or Emmy?”
Buch lets loose a long breath. “Actually, she did for the first time about six months ago. Remember the day we met?”
I instantly make the connection. “Your legal troubles?”
“Yeah. Darlene appeared out of nowhere and wanted to see Emmy. I refused, for obvious reasons. Then she blindsided me with a custody lawsuit.”
Yikes. “Does she have legal grounds?”
“The lawyers are figuring that out, but it’s not been the slam dunk I assumed it would be. A hearing is being scheduled, and it’s all taken a lot longer than I anticipated. It’s very fucking unsettling. I just want it to be over.”
“I’m sorry.”
He runs his fingers though his thick brown hair, scratching the back of his neck once he reaches it.
“When did you divorce?” I realize I’m clutching my mug and loosen my grip .
“She served me with papers shortly after leaving.”
“And you’ve raised Emmy by yourself this whole time?”
“I’ve had help, thank God. My parents and sister are saints.
They love that little girl, and she loves them.
But I try not to take it for granted because Emmy is my responsibility.
It’s fine for her to sleep over at Mimi and PopPop’s house sometimes, and they enjoy having her…
as long as it’s within reason and I’m not taking advantage of their goodwill. ”
I’m floored. Butch gets thrown a curveball and he hits it out of the damn park. My parents get a curveball and forfeit the game.
“She’s the center of my world, but I’m also hers. I’m who she relies on. I’m where the buck stops. And she’s a handful. A spunky, precocious, tiny female who scares me to death.”
A small smile inches across my lips.
“And I have no earthly idea what I’m doing, but I try my best. She does well in school, takes dance, works on cars with me, parades everywhere in dresses and crowns, and I attempt to keep her in line while not giving in to her every whim. She probably knows I’m wrapped around her little finger.”
Butch is laying his heart out to me. He’s obviously smitten, caring, and…sheltering…and it’s all so beautiful.
“Does she ask about her mom? Miss her?”
Butch grimaces. “She doesn’t remember her mother, and I’ve watched her like a hawk for years looking for trauma or emotional damage, wondering whether she needs outside help or to talk about it.
So far, I don’t see anything. But here’s the other thing.
I’m very protective of Emmy. I don’t want…
” He clears his throat. “I haven’t introduced her to anyone that might leave her.
Hurt her. Put her in the position to love someone who doesn’t love her back. ”
My chest seizes again. “Of course,” I whisper. “That’s why you didn’t tell me about her. You’re rightfully cautious.”
“In all honesty, I was going to tell you soon. I know that sounds like bullshit, but I promise it’s not. And this is not how I wanted you to find out about my daughter. I’m damn sorry about that.”
“I get it.” I do. I don’t like it much, but it’s understandable.
“Emmy hasn’t gotten close to women aside from my mother, sister, and grandmothers, and a part of me knows that’s not…
maybe that’s not what’s best for her? I’m a man.
I know man stuff. She’s a girl. She needs to know girl stuff.
And while some of that can probably wait, I’m thinking it’s important for her to have that soon. ”
Yeah. Before her period comes. Sooner, really—the school years can be brutal. I don’t say anything, though; I just nod.
“I like you, Jacqui. A lot. I want to let you into my life, to pursue whatever’s happening here. I haven’t experienced this,” he gestures between us, “in years, which tells me it’s something special. I trust you.” His hand skates toward mine then stalls. “I want you.”
“Daddy?” Emmy interrupts, peering around the doorway.
“What do you need, sweetheart?”
She shuffles over, still dragging that teddy bear in one hand. “Can I have a snack?”
“Sure, baby. How about an apple?”
She nods, her curious gaze fastening on me. “Want some apple too?”
I smile at her. “No thanks, but that’s nice of you to offer. I bet you got those good manners from your daddy.”
She shakes her head, a big grin crossing her face. “My PopPop.”
“Hey!” Butch chides, grabbing her like a rag doll, hefting her into his arms, and tickling her.
Emmy squeals with pure delight, her giggles echoing in the kitchen. She’s breathless when he relents.
“Pay the toll, kid.”
She dutifully plants a kiss on his cheek .
He sets her down and she runs off gripping a ruby apple her father rinsed under the tap.
Butch’s smile fades, as if he’s remembering our sobering conversation. He pours us more coffee and sits back down. “You’re awfully quiet, Sundance. I’ve laid a ton on you here, but can you throw me a bone?”
My thoughts remain scattered. “I’m not sure what to say. It’s...a lot to absorb.”
He hums.
“Emmy is adorable. The two of you together…” I grasp for words. “It’s heartwarming. Admirable. I respect the hell out of you for how you’ve stepped up as a father.”
“But?” he prods.
But I know nothing about being a mother.
My mom wasn’t a great role model. I can barely take care of myself.
This is way out of my league. I could fuck it all up…
this one thing that’s more important to Butch than anything else.
Plus, he’s embroiled in a legal battle with an ex-wife that sounds messy and equally beyond my purview.
My mind races with intrusive thoughts, but I voice none of them.
“I just need some time to digest this.”
His shoulders sag. He’s not convinced.
He’s laid himself bare, and I’m backtracking like a spooked animal.
I’m proving him right about women. About trusting others.
I’m also, unwittingly, sealing my own destiny.