Bucking Bear (Pounding Hearts 3)

So I go out of my way to be nice. I go out of my way to be agreeable and flexible. He tells me he needs me to pick her up without giving me notice, I pick her up. He tells me he needs me to drop her off at an earlier time, I drop her off. He needs to switch weekends; I switch the weekends. I won’t be what keeps him from her, even if it’s not fair to me. Even if I have to cancel every plan I make and just sit by the phone waiting for the call. If he can’t step in and be a father, that’s all on him. I’m giving him every chance possible.

So I wait for him to tell me when and how he wants his next visit, and I sure as hell don’t expect him to ask me, “Are you busy this weekend?”

Huh? That’s a first. And this weekend isn’t his weekend either.

“I’m going out Friday night, and Saturday I have to work,” I answer, wondering—and worrying—why he cares.

“So you’re free Sunday?”

“Yes. Do you want me to drop Hope off Sunday? I can always drop her off Friday before I go out, or Saturday before work.”

“No, this isn’t my weekend. You can drop her off at our usual time. Can I swing by Sunday and pick you up?”

“Uh…” I draw out, dumbfounded. “Why do you want to pick me up?”

“I want to take you out.”

“Why?!” I ask a little too incredulously and slap my hand over my mouth. Holding the phone away from my ear, I take a deep breath in and out of my nose, trying not to freak out.

What does he want now? How does he plan to fuck up my life now?

Carson clears his throat and then says slowly, too carefully. “I would like to apologize for my behavior Saturday. It was unacceptable.”

Did I really just hear that? Or am I just imagining what I want to hear?

“Grace?” he asks when I don’t respond.

&n

bsp; “I accept your apology,” I blurt out. “No need to pick me up.” I’ll forgive him for what he did, for the sake of Hope, but I won’t forget it.

“I would still like to take you out. I’d like to talk about Hope.”

“Um…”

I really don’t want to go out with him, it’s already a strain trying to be civil with him when I drop Hope off or when we’re talking on the phone. I can’t imagine trying to keep it up for an hour or more.

“I have a lot to apologize for, Grace.”

Dammit. There he goes getting my hopes up. Has he had an epiphany? Is this the first step of him getting his shit together and being a better father for her?

“Okay,” I agree my shoulders slumping as I drop down to my bed. I didn’t realize I had stood up was pacing and I’m pretty sure I almost wore a hole into my floor. “What time do you want to pick me up?” I ask, already feeling a knot of uneasiness forming in the pit of my stomach.

“How about sevenish?”

“Okay,” I agree tentatively. It’s kind of late for a school night but hopefully whatever he wants to talk about won’t take long.

“I’ll make a reservation at Donasto’s.”

Oh joy, going out to eat at a restaurant is my favorite thing to do on my nights off. Not.

“Okay,” I agree again. I suppose it’s better to have a table between us than nothing at all.

“Sunday, at seven. I’ll pick you up at your parent’s house?”

I can’t quite bring myself to say sounds good because, fuck, it so doesn’t sound good. Instead I just say, “Yep,” for confirmation.

“Have a good night, Grace,” he says but the way he says it I get the feeling there’s more going on here.