Jill Shalvis - Slow Heat

But for her it was as good as done. Maybe she couldn’t choose her family, but she sure as hell could choose her own path.

And when she hung up, she was still smiling. Seems sex really did a body good.

She was still smiling that night over macaroni and cheese with Tag. But when she got up the next morning, the smile was finally gone. She lay in bed and thought about getting herself over to Wade’s for another twelve-hour smile, but she couldn’t come up with an excuse so she called him. “How are you?”

“Define okay,” he said, his sleepy morning voice rough and sexy enough to make her nipples hard.

“Not a murder suspect would be good.”

He blew out a breath. “Then I’m okay. At least for now. But don’t worry, I’ve seen a lot of movies. I think I can get away with it without getting arrested.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Breathing.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Oddly, no. At least not that I’ve caught him at. But he’s eating me out of house and home, and he won’t stop talking.”

“Are you feeling better?” she asked. “Your head? Your ribs?”

“I can’t feel anything but my blood pressure rising. Can your blood actually boil? I think mine’s boiling.”

“You need to watch a movie,” she suggested. “Or eat some brownies. Relax.”

“I’ve got a better way to relax.”

She actually felt herself go damp. “Sex isn’t the answer.”

“Sam, sex is always the answer. Come over.”

“By the time I got there, we’d only have five minutes.”

“Five minutes is all I need.”

“Maybe I need more.” Like six. She could probably do it in six if they skipped the preliminaries and got right to it.

He sighed. “You’re right. Maybe you’ll come over tonight.”

“I’ve got Tag and you have your dad.”

“I’ll hire us both babysitters, and we can sneak off. Maybe to the beach. Since a bed scares you, let’s do it on the cliffs,” he said, his voice husky, like he was already picturing it.

And now so was she… “Wade.”

“See this,” he said, “this is why life is better when it’s all fun and games.”

She laughed and disconnected, then woke up Tag for breakfast.

“Outta milk,” he grumbled sleepily. “What are you going to put in your coffee?”

“You’re worried about my coffee, or your Frosted Flakes?”

“That, too.” He smiled sweetly.

Her heart tugged. She knew he wasn’t missing his dad as much these days, if he’d ever really done so. Most likely what Tag had missed was being at the only home he’d known, and Sam wanted to think that she’d given him a more than decent replacement. Given the lack of recent complaining on his part, she figured she was at least on the right track. Problem was, she’d gotten herself good and attached to him, and knew that at the end of the three months, when Jeremy came for him, it was going to hurt like hell.

Apparently that was the story of her life. Fall in love for a predetermined amount of time, then get her heart stomped on. “How about we go out for breakfast?”

Tag sat straight up. “Really?”

“Not fast food this time, but really.”

Tag leapt out of his chair and headed for the door.

“Bring your backpack, your tutor’s meeting us at my office today.”

“’Kay. Can we get pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream?” He batted his already gorgeous eyelashes at her, reminding her that someday in the not so far future, he was going to be charming girls with little to no effort. “I know how you love pancakes,” he said, making her laugh.

She should have said no, but just as it was with Wade, it was also happening with Tag-she was losing her famed self-control. “If we hurry.”

Wade pulled on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, and tried his usual morning run. He got a quarter of the way through his five-mile route before caving in to the rib pain, which sucked. He sank to the curb and called Pace. “Come get me.”

“Can’t. I’m in the middle of an ET shoot, and I’m looking damn fine, too, I should add.”

Wade disconnected and called Sam. “Come get me?”

There was a beat of disbelieving silence. “I can’t drop everything and have sex with you!” she whispered, clearly trying to sound appalled, but really sounding very interested instead. “I’m inspecting the hotel’s ballroom for the auction.” She paused. “How about later?”

He had to laugh, and didn’t bother to explain. Hell, no. Not if she was going to give him a booty call out of the deal. “Later.” He limped home and found his father passed out cold on the damn couch. “Ah, just like old times.”

“Except I’m not hungover.” John sat up, and Wade had to admit, he wasn’t drunk. He was bright-eyed and strung out, but not drunk.

And he was trembling ever so slightly. His entire body was in alcohol withdrawal. “You okay?”

“No, but I’ll get there. Let’s do something father/son-like. Bowling. Surfing. Anything.”

Wade raised a brow.

“I’m serious.”

“How about we just try to coexist.”

“I need more.” John paced. “I really need more to pull this whole quitting thing off.” He looked down at his hands, which even when he fisted shook badly. “Need to,” he repeated.

“You need a drink,” Wade said flatly.

“More than I need air.”

Wade let out a breath. “Go to rehab, dad. I’ll take you. I’ll pay.”

“Don’t you get it? I need more than your money, Wade.”

Christ, and now Wade could hear Pace’s voice in his head saying, Writing a check won’t solve everything. “Look, you said you were tired of the trailer park and needed a house, so I bought you one. You got tired of the house and decided you needed freedom, so you sold it and lived on a campground with five other homeless guys until you got kicked out of there for disorderly conduct. Then you said you needed to be with others like you, so I found you a nice senior center-”

“They weren’t like me, they were old.”

“The median age was five years younger than you.”

“I got bored.”

“Ah. And now we get to it. You got bored and thought you’d try me on for a change.”

“You say that like you were my last choice.”

Wade let out a laugh. “Dad, I’ve always been your last choice.”

John was quiet a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with regret. “I’m sorry for that, you know. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’ve screwed up, but it was the alcohol, Wade. I’ve been lost in the alcohol.”

“There are always choices. You made yours.”

“Yes, and I’m making another one now.” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper, as if he were almost afraid to hear Wade’s reaction. “I choose you.”

Wade leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Because you got sick, and scared.”

“Better late than never, right? And don’t you ever get scared? Scared of ending up alone like me?”

“Alone, maybe. Like you? No. I don’t drink like you.”

“But you push people away like me. Listen to me, Wade. My time is limited, and I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want you to feel bad if something happens to me and we haven’t made peace.”

Wade opened his eyes, his gut clenching. “Did you learn something new from the doctor?”

“No.”

The clenching eased slightly.

“People make mistakes,” John said softly.

“Yeah.” Wade ran his hand over his aching ribs. “Like miscalculating the distance between the plate and a fucking fence.”

“You doing okay?”

Wade just looked at him.

“I know. I have no right to ask.”

“Have you ever even seen a game, Dad?”

John was quiet for so long that Wade turned away, frustrated and disgusted at the both of them.

“What if I said I’ve seen every game,” John finally said. “Including yesterday’s?”

Wade turned back. “I’d say you’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”

“Okay, I’ve wantedto see your games, but you never invited me.”

Jesus.

“I’ve screwed up, okay? I am readily admitting that. But I want to fix it, I want to change.”

“Then change.”

“I’m working on it. Jesus, Wade, you don’t give an inch, do you? It would help if I knew exactly what you’re so mad at.”

Wade just rolled his eyes.

“Hell, son, I’ve been drunk for thirty years. Help a guy out, throw me a bone.”

“Okay. Let’s start with kindergarten, which is the year I understood that no one else’s dad passed out in their front yard every night, too drunk to get inside.”

John winced. “Okay, my bad on that one.”

“When I turned seven and reminded you it was my birthday, you gave me a flask of whiskey and then stole it back from me in the middle of the night. The next morning you told me the Easter Bunny did it.”

“Christ.” John closed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. And then there’s how you got fired from every single job you ever even halfway held, including the school’s janitor position, because you whipped out your dick to urinate in the principal’s trash can while his secretary was in the room. That was a fun one to live down, by the way, so thanks for that.”

John grimaced and scrubbed a hand down his face. “That one I remember. She called me a loser.”

“You were a loser!”

There was a profound, sudden, thundering silence, and then John sank to the couch, looking sucker-punched. Wade felt like he’d just kicked a puppy, but even sick with it, he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize.

“I kept you fed and clothed, you could give me that much,” John whispered.

“I kept myself fed from working at McDonald’s. And I kept you fed, too. I brought home food that I stole from work.”