What else could he say? That he’d been eaten up by guilt afterwards? Sure Tayra had been divorced from Brock at the time and wasn’t ever going back to him. But Slade had still been thinking of Tayra as Brock’s girl. However, she’d put on the tears and the moves, and he’d gone into her arms like a kid of seventeen with no control. It hadn’t been cheating, but it also wasn’t a moment he’d been proud to own.
From it, Tayra had had a son she hadn’t told him about. Which said everything about how little she’d wanted Slade in her life.
He glanced at Bethany. She was sitting so very still, her hands cupped around her coffee mug as if it were still warm, even though it had to be an iceberg by now. Standing, he took the mug from her grip, poured out the coffee, heated fresh, fixed it up the way she liked it with cream and sugar. He brought her coffee back to her.
She took a sip. Color leaked back into her face. He shook his head and said, “I’m going for a run. Back in an
hour.” He headed into the bathroom to change into sweats. He went out the front, told Jason to keep an eye on Bethany for him. Jason nodded and tried to sink a basket. The boy didn’t even hit the backstop, and Slade made a mental note to give him some tips.
The boy.
His boy. His son. He shook his head. Well, maybe he was. Maybe Tayra had actually had other guys in her bed—one night stands, like him. Guys she could take home and kick out and not have to think about again. Funny, for a girl who’d wanted nothing but stability, Tayra had done a poor job of finding it for herself.
Slade took off at an easy jog. He kept to the streets. There weren’t any sidewalks, so he ran on pine duff that crunched under his step, giving off a nice smell. It seemed like the entire run was uphill, going away and coming back. It didn’t take long to put sweat on his skin and a burn in his calves. He’d been away from his habits for too long.
Back home, he ran every morning, had dry whole wheat toast and coffee for breakfast, and then headed into the office. Monday and Wednesday he golfed in the afternoon—range on Monday and nine holes on Wednesday. He put in the occasional tennis game with Clive Farham, the firm’s accountant. He went out every now and then, if he found a woman he liked. If she liked him, they’d spend the night together, the sex would be good, and they’d part in the morning. It was all regular. It was on a schedule. It wasn’t anything like what he’d had with Tayra.
Or what he might have had with Bethany.
Was she going to hold it against him that he’d slept with her sister? Would that be a deal breaker for her? Or was she going to back off now, sure he’d want to claim Jason?
And what about Jason?
He knew damn well he wasn’t great father material. Bethany had been right when she’d said he was married to his work. But that could change. Maybe it was time for adjustments—before he was too set in his ways to make them.
He ran a fast sprint, got his heart pounding, slowed to a walk, and pulled out his phone. He texted Travis to set up a few things for him.
Travis texted back—What about BG checks you asked Trent to get?
Put on hold. Other has priority, Slade texted.
He headed back to Bethany’s house—well, really Tayra’s old house. Stepping inside, he tried again to get a sense of Tayra. She hadn’t really left an imprint on the place. She’d left a son with her eyes and so very little else. He hadn’t seen Jason outside, and the ancient VW wasn’t in the driveway or parked out front, so Slade figured Bethany had gone somewhere with Jason.
Slade headed for the shower.
Bethany wasn’t back by the time he’d finished showering, shaving, and dressing. He found the handyman’s number, called him, made an appointment with the guy, met with him, paid in advance for half the work—which seemed to make Harry’s day. He spent time in the kitchen, making a few things he considered basics from the groceries he’d bought yesterday. When it came to the kitchen, Bethany was about the worst bachelor he’d ever seen.
Finally, Bethany came back, driving up in a cough of smoke. She stopped the car and before the engine was off, what looked like an exhausted, cranky Jason had slammed out of the vehicle. He stomped past Slade, muttering about stupid girls, stupid aunts, and slammed into his bedroom.
Bethany trudged over to Slade, her purse over her shoulders and her shoulders slumping. “What’s wrong?” Slade asked.
Bethany shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. Jason and I…it’s been a long day. I took him to the library—we usually go on Fridays, but I wanted him to sign up for a reading program.”
“Jason didn’t want that?” Slade asked. She nodded. In his opinion, Bethany was treating Jason too much like a little kid. He was little, but he was growing up faster than she recognized.
She met Slade’s stare, her own icy. “You’re spoiling him with TV and video games. That’s all he wanted to do. Come home and play.”
“He should be in school. He needs more friends his own age.”
She dragged her purse higher on her shoulder. “He needs stability and order.”
“He’s got that. He’s got you.”
“For how long?” She bit her lower lip.
Slade shook his head. “Jason’s not the only cranky one. Did you two have lunch?”
“It’s not always about food.”