Taking a Chance on the Single Dad

‘You’re home early.’

She winced. ‘We’re still at Squamish.’

‘What’s up? You don’t usually call until you’re back in town. It’s quite late.’

When would she learn she could never put one over Mum? ‘We came across an accident and it took a long time before the rescue team got here. But we’re on our way now. Any chance of dinner when I get back?’ She didn’t want to go back to her empty house. Not yet. Not while Hunter’s accusations about her taking risks were flapping around her skull, making her feel small and selfish.

‘It’s pasta.’

Not even her least favourite food could stop her calling in. ‘Sounds great.’

‘Try again.’ Her mother laughed as they cut the connection.

Over ravioli in homemade tomato mushroom sauce Brenna chatted about her shock at finding Geoff and what she and Ash suspected were his life-changing injuries. She tried to keep the conversation light, but Hunter’s words kept interrupting and making her sweat. In the end she put her fork down and eyeballed her mother. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused you worry. It’s just that I wanted to prove something to myself.’

Mum placed her hand over hers. ‘That you are invincible.’

Brenna gasped, then shook her head slowly. ‘Never could fool you about anything.’

‘Tell me something. Has this got anything to do with Hunter?’

Oh, hell. But this was why she was here. Not to avoid her empty house—well, that too—but to talk about what was bugging her with this wonderful woman who’d love her no matter what, while at the same time giving her sound advice that might or might not offend her.

‘He told me I was thoughtless, didn’t care about my family and friends if I was prepared to take risks like I do. I disagree to a point. I am careful, take all proper measures not to have an accident, but after working with that man today I can see I might push things a little too far.’

Mum fiddled with her fork, her eyes thoughtful. Then, ‘You don’t think you’re pushing yourself physically because you were, and still are, afraid to push for Hunter? That skiing down a steep slope is safer than connecting with a man who hurt you badly and might do it again if you give him half a chance?’

Denial rushed to her support. ‘But I’ve been skiing, cycling, doing all those hair-raising things for years. Hunter only turned up a few weeks ago.’

‘Brenna, you can do better than that.’

She pushed her chair back and stood up. Sat down again, reached for her glass of water. Hunter had never really left her. Even in the years when she’d truly believed she’d got over him he had been there, waiting in the wings. Nothing she’d done had stopped her loving him. It mightn’t have been obvious, but it’d been there all along.

Instead of going after him with everything she had, she’d put her energies into sports, photography and other people, throwing herself at everything to prove she could bounce back, and no one need be worried about leaving her because she was a survivor, no matter what.

‘You’re right, Mum, I can.’

But where to start?

‘Don’t rush this. You need to be one hundred per cent sure.’ More words of wisdom from the woman who’d always been there for her. ‘After six years a little longer won’t matter.’

‘You seem certain I want to get back with Hunter.’

‘Don’t you?’

If he stays. If. ‘Yes.’ But she wasn’t going to rush this. Mum was right. She had to be absolutely certain first or she, and Hunter, would get hurt all over again.

* * *

Hunter picked up his phone and brought up Brenna’s number. His finger hovered over it, his mouth drying and his heart heavy.

Just press the damn number.

Dropping the phone on the bench, he filled a glass with iced water from his new, state-of-the-art fridge and glugged it down like a man who’d been in the desert for a week. Digging a garden was hot work.

Three weeks into his new job at the hospital and Hunter felt as though he was finally getting into his stride. He had a routine going whereby he dropped Dylan off at Jess’s before seven and picked him up from preschool after he knocked off around three. They’d go home for biscuits and cold drinks before heading to the beach to play in the sand, and twice Dylan had gone into the water to splash around. Life was unfolding as he’d planned.

Except for Bren.

There were still stacks of cartons to unpack and furniture to buy, but apparently Rome hadn’t been built in a day either. He was happy in a quiet way and thrilled that every day Dylan got louder and happier. His boy was settling in, which was what the move had been about.

It had not been about Brenna and falling back in love with her. If he’d ever stopped loving her in the first place. Which he now knew he hadn’t.

But was he going to do anything about it?

The fact he hadn’t heard from Brenna at all hurt. At first, he’d been angry to think she couldn’t find it in herself to enquire after Dylan’s health. Kevin must’ve said why he was not going back to work with them. Then he’d remembered he’d told Kevin someone in the family was sick and knew immediately Brenna would be thinking he’d done a bunk, gone back to his parents to help them out of another crisis.

That really stank. Seemed she hadn’t heard a thing he’d said over the previous weeks. No, she’d have been watching and waiting for him to repeat his mistakes, more like, and was now probably congratulating herself on being so clever.

‘Dad.’ Dylan raced into the kitchen. ‘I want to see Poppy.’

I want to see Poppy’s owner.

‘Sorry, Dylan, but I’ve told you we can’t. Poppy and Brenna are busy.’

His face dropped. ‘They’re always busy.’

‘Want to go see the boys?’ Jess and Dave were having a family day at home and they were invited to drop in any time they liked. It might be good to shoot the breeze with his friends and forget everything Brenna.

When Dylan raised his little fist in the air, he knew he’d avoided an argument.

For how long, who knew, but he’d take whatever he could. Tapping him lightly with his own fist, he said, ‘You put some warm clothes in a bag, and I’ll grab some beers and chips.’ Sounding like a real pro, Dad. Well, it was a work in progress. Still a lot of learning to do. Like that would ever stop.

His phone rang. His heart rate picked up. Bren? Air whooshed across his lips as he answered grumpily. ‘Hi, Mum.’

This was good. He didn’t want to talk to Brenna. He wasn’t missing her. He didn’t love her. The phone started sliding from his fingers. Pardon? ‘Can you repeat that?’

‘I said Dad’s started playing bowls. Just as well he broke his left shoulder and not his right.’

No, not that. The bit about how he didn’t love Brenna. ‘Mum, sorry, can I get back to you? I’ve got to go. Everything’s fine. Bye.’

Twice in as many minutes he’d admitted he loved Bren. He’d loved her from the moment she’d walked into the emergency department and up to the bed where he had been trying to stem a patient’s critical blood loss. She’d looked directly at him and said in the sexiest voice he’d ever heard, ‘Hello, I’m Brenna Williamson, a doctor. Want some help?’ And he’d been a goner. Together they’d saved the man from bleeding out and had gone to the pub for a celebratory drink at the end of their shift. It had been the start of something amazing. Something he’d walked away from. But he hadn’t stopped loving her.

Yet now you expect Bren to have the utmost confidence that you won’t do that to her again?

‘Come on, Dad, I’m ready.’

‘Give me a few minutes, will you? I’m not as fast as you.’ Should he promise Bren he was here for good? That nothing would entice him to leave again? Words weren’t easy, but they were simpler and quicker than the wait and I’ll show you strategy. Those were the only

choices and he’d go for both—if he was absolutely certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Brenna. No, that wasn’t the question. He already knew he did. But did she want him? The big unknown in all this. When they were making love or sharing a meal, he believed she did. But her lack of trust in him was a hurdle to overcome, if it even was surmountable.

‘Hurry up. I want to go now.’

‘Behave, or we won’t be going anywhere.’ Putting the six-pack of beer on the bench, Hunter stared out at the garden he’d been digging whenever he’d had a free moment over the last couple of weeks. It was going to be large, and hopefully productive. Pride swelled in his chest. This was working; he was making a go of getting a new life happening, everything he’d dreamed about for so long was beginning to take shape. He had to hang onto that, not let his relationship with Brenna wear him down. Damn but she frightened him with her devil-may-care attitude when it came to her physical safety. Why couldn’t she see that?

If you want her to believe in you, you’ve got to give back.