“Mom’s not here,” Brody said through gritted teeth.
Tyler didn’t respond right away. Then he glanced at his father. “I wish she was.”
The muscles in Brody’s jaw clenched, and he jammed his hands in his pants pockets. Elisa placed a comforting palm on his shoulder, which was hard and tense. Hearing things like that had to tear his heart up. He hadn’t said as much, but Elisa knew how much guilt Brody carried around for spending so much time at work. The rift between him and the boy was a palpable thing he didn’t know how to fix.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”
He glanced at her, his eyes like a dangerous stormy night, as though accusing her of meddling where it wasn’t her business. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and took a step back from him. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had kissed her and made love to her so tenderly, who’d looked at her as though the words “I love you” were on the tip of his tongue. But how could he love her? They’d only known each other for a few weeks, and there were so many things, secrets, they’d yet to share with each other.
“I’ll tell you what,” Elisa said, trying to break the ice. “Why don’t I keep Brinkley here, and you can stop by and take care of him for me?”
Tyler shot a glance at his father, as if giving him one more chance to change his mind. Brody didn’t relent. He just stood beside her, utterly and maddeningly still, like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
Then he spoke, and his voice was harder than it had been a moment ago. “Let’s go. It’s late.”
Tyler expelled a long breath, gave Brinkley one last stroke, and dragged himself off the floor. He shuffled slowly to the table where his backpack sat. Brody waited in silence, his eyes tracking his son’s every move. Tyler headed for the door, and Brody directed his thunderous eyes at Elisa. She stood her ground, fully expecting him to reprimand her for causing a problem.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Elisa’s heart almost punched right through her chest when the palm of his hand cupped her cheek. The warmth of his skin heated her entire face. His hand was so large and masculine and felt like absolute heaven touching her. Her eyes dropped closed when he pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. Then he whispered in her ear, “It’s not you.”
He left the good-bye at that and walked out her front door.
THIRTEEN
I WISH SHE WAS.
Tyler’s softly muttered words tumbled over in Brody’s brain like some God-forsaken rerun he couldn’t get out of his head. Over and over, the whole way home, then as he stood under the hot spray of the shower. They were there, haunting him along with his son’s downcast eyes, as though he couldn’t bring himself to look at his father. Brody knew the feeling. There were times when he could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. Not being able to look at himself he could take. But Tyler not being able to look at him? The thought made Brody feel like a suicidal maniac.
Maybe he ought to have taken the damn dog. The thing had looked like a pathetic drowned rat with his all matted fur and gimpy back leg. His rejection of the idea had less to do with the dog itself and more to do with his shitty attitude. A disastrous day at work, coupled with a phone argument with Kelly, and Brody’s mood had been as black as the night sky. Seeing Elisa had helped. It’d been like coming out of a murderous storm and stepping into a ray of warm sunshine. His willpower had barely kept him from grabbing her, burying his face in her neck, and breathing in her scent until the world melted away.
It was edging toward eight p.m. and he was downright exhausted. He pulled on a pair of fresh boxers and went into the kitchen. Luckily for his sanity, there was one bottle of beer left. He snagged it off the shelf, popped the top off and tossed it onto the countertop. His cell phone chirped from where the bottle top landed. Brody seriously thought about letting voicemail pick up, as he knew who the caller was and had no interest in speaking with her. The phone continued to ring, the sound grating on his last remaining nerve. Brody simply took a swig of his drink while staring at the device.
Against his better judgment, he picked up the phone and touched “answer” with a sigh. “What,” he barked after bringing the phone to his ear.
“We need to finish our conversation,” Kelly said without as much as a hello.
“It’s finished,” Brody answered while walking into the living room and planting his tired ass on the couch. He sank down low, resting his head on the cushion behind him.
“No, it’s not. You hung up on me, remember?”
“You deserved it.”
“Stop being such an insensitive asshole and listen to me.” The end of the last word came off sharp, in the typical Kelly style when she was seriously pissed. Brody didn’t give a shit.
He took another deep swig of the drink before answering her. “No.”
There was a long pause, followed by Kelly’s heavy sigh. “Brody…”
“You’re not taking my son away from me, Kelly.”
Brody could actually hear Kelly’s teeth grinding together.
“Like I told you a dozen times this afternoon, this is not about you. It’s about my mother and her needing someone to take care of her.”
“See that’s generally what you pay the nursing home big bucks for. The taking-care-of part.” Brody allowed his eyes to drop closed and pressed the cool bottle to his forehead in hopes of soothing his pounding head. It didn’t work. And this bullshit conversation with his ex-wife wasn’t helping either. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that. I know this is hard for you. I’m just tired and I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”
“Look, nothing is set in stone,” Kelly said as though she didn’t even hear. Or maybe she did and just chose to ignore it. “But I wanted to let you know that this is something we’re seriously considering. We can’t just dump her into a nursing home then leave her there. I’d hoped you’d be more understanding.”
“Understanding that you want to move my only child three states away? Not likely.”
“Well, what would you suggest?”
“How about not moving? Or better yet, bring her here.”
Deafening silence from the other end of the line exacerbated Brody’s bitch of a headache. “I already told you, transferring her here isn’t that easy.” A heavy sigh flowed across the phone lines. “We’ll talk about this later. I want to say good night to Tyler before I have to go help my mom in the bath.”
Brody was too pissed off to make chitchat as he stood from the couch and went to Tyler’s bedroom. Apparently Kelly wasn’t in the mood to ask him about the weather either. All that came from the other line was her quiet breathing and the occasional word to her mother. The house was eerily silent as he padded barefoot down the hallway toward his son’s room. He knocked once on the closed door, then pushed the thing open. Tyler was kicked back in his gaming chair, flipping through a Sports Illustrated. Brody came into the room and held the cell phone out.
“Mom wants to talk to you.”
A brilliant grin lit up Tyler’s face as he dropped the magazine to the floor and grabbed the phone.
“Hey, Mom. You’ll never guess what Elisa and I did this afternoon…”
Brody didn’t stay to listen to the conversation. He wasn’t in a particular mood to plaster a smile to his face and listen to the rescue story of Brinkley.
The bottle of beer remained on the coffee table where he’d set it a moment ago. The thing was nearly full, so he picked it up and gave a few hard swallows. What he really wanted to do was hurl it against the far wall and watch the golden liquid trickle down the beige paint. Then maybe it could puddle underneath the speckled carpeting because he just didn’t give a damn. Instead of giving in to his impulse, Brody stared at the bottle for a few more seconds before taking it into the kitchen. Once there, he dropped it into the garbage can, liquid and all. Technically he was supposed to empty the bottle out. Whatever. What were they going to do, arrest him?