Sullivan blinked, yanking himself out of that dark time in his life. He didn’t realize he’d spoken the story out loud. He rubbed his arms, trying to fight the chill. “No, but it was the last.”
Elizabeth gave a soft, sympathetic smile.
He forced himself to continue, and it all flowed easily. They talked more about that day, about his mother’s death, and more about the abusive man his father became. Each minute felt longer than the one before it, and when he finally got to leave, he’d nearly gulped at the air outside.
As he walked to his car, his head started to pound, and he kept thinking he should feel something, but all there was in his chest was emptiness. He’d left his truck parked at the curb and walked downtown. People were everywhere, shopping and enjoying the day, but Sullivan couldn’t shake the haunting darkness shadowing him. He stopped at the local coffee shop; Hot Brew and Eats, the signage read. The shop definitely hadn’t been there when Sullivan lived there. It used to be a breakfast hotspot, but they’d kept the old retro-style booths, refinishing the seats in brown leather instead of the red he remembered. He made it to the counter, where a young brunette stood wearing all black with a black apron. Her eyes went huge when she saw him, indicating she watched baseball.
“Hi!” she said, excitedly. “Um, what can I get you?”
“Coffee with cream,” he said.
“Sure, coming right up.” She blushed, then hurried to process his payment. As she did so, a couple of women entered the shop, behind him.
“We’ve got ten minutes before school is out.”
“We’ll make it,” the other woman said. “Besides, I need caffeine if I’m going to get through the meeting with the principal.”
“Girl, you’ve got this. Get your Mama Bear claws ready.”
Sullivan smiled to himself at their conversation, and he glanced down at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. He remembered when his mother watched over him like that, when she would meet him at the elementary school to walk him home, and sometimes have baked cookies waiting for him. He missed those moments with her.
“Here’s your coffee.”
Sullivan jerked his gaze up, finding the young woman offering him the paper cup. “Thanks.”
She blushed again and held up her cell phone. “Can I get a photo? No one will believe me when I tell them I met you.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” he said with a smile, angling his body to get closer to her over the counter.
After she snapped her photo, he said his goodbyes, smiled at the confused women who obviously wondered who he was, and left the coffee shop. He planned to go left and head back to his rented truck. Instead, his feet had him moving right while he sipped his coffee. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact. Fame came with the job; he never minded it. Hell, he liked the kids. He just didn’t think they should look up to him. Many of his teammates had it all together, wife, kids, the perfect modern-day family. Sullivan felt stuck in a Groundhog Day scenario where he carried on numbly, feeling nothing, until all of a sudden, he felt everything. It never ended well.
Eventually, he ended up at River Rock’s Elementary School. The old schoolhouse with the large silver bell above the door had only a hundred or so students a year. Last night, Sullivan thought about packing his bags and getting far away from this town—from the nagging feeling that Clara’s one-night stand story didn’t add up. Even as he waited by the light post, sipping his coffee, he knew he should leave. What if her story seemed off because this kid was his? What was he going to do about it? Be a dad? The thought was damn near laughable. He was failing at keeping his own life together and his anger in check. But there he was, at the schoolhouse, waiting for…he wasn’t quite sure.
People passed by him on the sidewalk, moms and dads picking up their laughing and smiling children. But when Sullivan spotted Clara parking and then exiting her practical sedan, a car he couldn’t even imagine her owning, his feet remained rooted to the spot. She’d always been responsible and had a good head on her shoulders, but she hadn’t been uptight or practical. She moved closer to the school, a huge smile on her face, the noise of the children near deafening. Sullivan scanned over every little face until he stopped at one, and he felt the ground drop from under him. The boy had light brown hair, a shade Sullivan recognized because the same color was on his own head. He saw a blur of jeans and a red backpack as the boy ran into Clara’s arms and she squeezed him tight.
Time slowed. Sullivan had seen that smile on her face before. She used to smile at him that way. But then she caught sight of him, and she straightened up, her pretty eyes instantly becoming guarded, her smile disappearing.
Walk away now. He repeated it in his mind again and again, but his feet decided otherwise. He took the final steps to reach Clara and Mason then went down to his knees, feeling like the air had been sucked right out of his chest.
Mason watched him closely then his eyes slowly widened. “Whoa, you’re Sully.” He blinked. “And look, our eyes are the same.”
Sullivan breathed past the tightness invading his chest. Now closer, Sullivan swore he was looking into his mother’s eyes. Same shape. Exact same color, a little lighter than his. “Yeah, little man, they sure are.” He glanced up at the woman who owed him answers. One look at Clara’s face was all Sullivan needed as she wrapped her arms around Mason, drawing him back into her safe hold. Damn. The world shook beneath him when he saw her expression. Something he’d never seen on her face when they were together. Distrust. Caution. Sullivan knew then. Clara perceived him as a threat to Mason.
Sullivan had failed at many things, but this, there was no failure worse than seeing C
lara feeling like she needed to protect the kid—his kid—from him. Hot anger pulsed through his veins, and crippling shame coursed through him until he couldn’t even identify how he felt about this. “Care to explain?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
Clara sighed then kissed the top of Mason’s head. “Come to the house tonight at seven thirty.”
“Why not now?” Sullivan barely held onto his composure, rising again.
She rubbed her hand through Mason’s hair, making him laugh. “Because this little guy needs dinner and a bath before bed.”
Right. A routine. “All right, seven thirty it is.”
Clara gave him a nod then turned to Mason and clearly forced a smile. “Say goodbye to Sullivan.”
“Bye,” he said and then whirled around, booking it to the car.