For the Sake of Their Son

“I can understand that.” Her hands unfurled to grip the rocker. “And I am so very sorry for any pain this has caused you.”

“Given that I’ve lost the first two months of my son’s life, the least you can do is give me four weeks together. Since you’re working from home here, you’ll be able to work on the road, as well. But if going on the race circuit is a deal breaker, I’ll bow out this season.”

She jolted in surprise that he would risk all he’d worked so hard to achieve, a career he so deeply loved. “What about your sponsors? Your reputation?”

“This is your call.”

“That’s not fair to make an ultimatum like that, to put it on me.”

“I’m asking, and I’m offering you choices.”

Choices? Hardly. She knew how important his racing career was to him. And she couldn’t help but admit to feeling a bit of pride in having helped him along the way. There was no way she could let him back out now.

She tossed up her hands. “Fine. Eli and I will travel with you on the race circuit for the next four weeks so you can figure out whatever it is you want to know and make your plans. You win. You always do.”

* * *

Winning didn’t feel much like a victory tonight.

Elliot poured himself a drink from the wet bar at his hotel. He and Lucy Ann had struck a bargain that he would stay at a nearby historic home that had been converted into a hotel while she made arrangements to leave in the morning. He’d called for a car service to pick him up, making use of his credit card numbers, memorized, a fact he hadn’t bothered mentioning to Lucy Ann earlier. Although she should have known. Had she selectively forgotten or had she been that rattled?

The half hour waiting for the car had been spent silently staring at his son while Eli slept and Lucy Ann hid in the other room under the guise of packing.

Elliot’s head was still reeling. He had been knocked unconscious and kidnapped, and found out he had an unknown son all in one day. He tipped back the glass of bourbon, emptying it and pouring another to savor, more slowly, while he sat out on the garden balcony where he would get better cell phone reception.

He dropped into a wrought-iron chair and let the Carolina moon pour over him. His home state brought such a mix of happy and sad memories. He was always better served just staying the hell away. He tugged his cell from his waistband, tucked his Bluetooth in his ear and thumbed autodial three for Malcolm Douglas.

The ringing stopped two buzzes in. “Brother, how’s it going?”

“How do you think it’s going, Douglas? My head hurts and I’m pissed off.” Anger was stoked back to life just thinking about his friends’ arrogant stunt, the way they’d played with his life. “You could have just told me about the baby.”

Malcolm chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t have been half as fun that way.”

“Fun? You think this is some kind of game? You’re a sick bastard.” The thought of them plotting this out while he partied blissfully unaware had him working hard to keep his breath steady. He and his friends had played some harsh jokes on one another in the past, but nothing like this. “How long have you known?”

“For about a week,” the chart-topping musician answered unrepentantly.

“A week.” Seven days he could have had with his son. Seven days his best friends kept the largest of secrets from him. Anger flamed through him. Was there nobody left in this world he could trust? He clenched his hand around the glass tumbler until it threatened to shatter. “And you said nothing at all.”

“I know it seems twisted, but we talked it through,” he said, all humor gone, his smooth tones completely serious for once. “We thought this was the best way. You’re too good at playing it cool with advance notice. You would have just made her mad.”

“Like I didn’t already do that?” He set aside the half-drunk glass of bourbon, the top-shelf brand wasted on him in his current mood.

“You confronted her with honesty,” Malcolm answered reasonably. “If we’d given you time to think, you’d have gotten your pride up. You would have been angry and bullish. You can be rather pigheaded, you know.”

“If I’m such a jackass, then why are we still friends?”

“Because I’m a jackass, too.” Malcolm paused before continuing somberly. “You would have done the same for me. I know what it’s like not to see your child, to have missed out on time you can never get back...”

Malcolm’s voice choked off with emotion. He and his wife had been high school sweethearts who’d had to give up a baby girl for adoption since they were too young to provide a life for their daughter. Now they had twins—a boy and a girl—they loved dearly, but they still grieved for that first child, even knowing they’d made the right decision for her.

Although Malcolm and Celia had both known about their child from the start.

Elliot forked his hands through his buzzed hair, kept closely shorn since he’d let his thoughts of Lucy Ann distract him and he’d caught his car on fire just before Christmas—nearly caught himself on fire, as well.

He’d scorched his hair; the call had been that damn close.

“I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact she’s kept his existence from me for so long.”

Malcolm snorted. “I can’t believe the two of you slept together.”

A growl rumbled low in his throat. “You’re close to overstepping the bounds of our friendship with talk like that.”

“Ahhh.” He chuckled. “So you do care about her more than you’ve let on.”

“We were...friends. Lifelong friends. That’s no secret.” He and Lucy Ann shared so much history it was impossible to unravel events from the past without thinking about each other. “The fact that there was briefly more...I can’t deny that, either.”

“You must not have been up to snuff for her to run so fast.”

Anger hissed between Elliot’s teeth, and he resisted the urge to pitch his Bluetooth over the balcony. “Now you have crossed the line. If we were sitting in the same place right now, my fist would be in your face.”

“Fair enough.” Douglas laughed softly again. “Like I said. You do care more than a little, more than any ‘buddy.’ And you can’t refute it. Admit it, Elliot. I’ve just played you, my friend.”

No use denying he’d been outmaneuvered by someone who knew him too well.

And as for what Malcolm had said? That he cared for Lucy Ann? Cared? Yes. He had. And like every other time in his life he’d cared, things had gone south.

If he wanted to sort through this mess and create any kind of future with Eli and Lucy Ann, he had to think more and care less.

Three

Lucy Ann shaded her eyes against the rising sun. For the third time in twenty-four hours a limousine pulled up her dusty road, oak trees creating a canopy for the long driveway. The first time had occurred yesterday when Elliot had arrived, then when he’d left, and now, he was returning.

Her simple semihermit life working from home with her son was drawing to a close in another few minutes.

Aunt Carla cradled Eli in her arms. Carla never seemed to age, her hair a perpetual shade halfway between gray and brown. She refused to waste money to have it colored. Her arms were ropy and strong from years of carting around trays of pizzas and sodas. Her skin was prematurely wrinkled from too much hard work, time in the Carolina sun—and a perpetual smile.

She was a tough, good woman who’d been there for Lucy Ann all her life. Too bad Carla couldn’t have been her mother. Heaven knows she’d prayed for that often enough.

Carla smiled down at little Eli, his fist curled around her finger. “I’m sure I’m going to miss you both. It’s been a treat having a baby around again.”

She’d never had a child of her own, but was renowned for opening her home to family members in need. She wasn’t a problem-solver so much as a temporary oasis. Very temporary, as the limo drew closer down the half-mile driveway.

“You’re sweet to make it sound like we haven’t taken over your house.” Lucy Ann tugged her roller bag through the door, kerthunking it over a bump, casting one last glance back at the tiny haven of Hummels and the saggy sofa.

“Sugar, you know I only wish I could’ve done more for you this time and when you were young.” Carla swayed from side to side, wearing her standard high-waisted jeans and a seasonal shirt—a pink Easter bunny on today’s tee.

“You’ve always been there for me.” Lucy Ann sat on top of her luggage, her eyes on the nearing limo. “I don’t take that for granted.”