The Calling (27 page)

Mitch rested his head against the back of the chair and slumped as if he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. He was definitely making himself comfortable for the long haul.

He cares about Justin
. And so she had her answer—father and son were cut from the same piece of granite.

Chapter 20

The orderly wheeled Justin to the side of the curb and set the wheelchair brakes with a loud clank. The crisp November air buoyed his spirit, especially after a week of inhaling stale hospital air. Still, he wished he could have stepped into the outdoors on his own two legs instead of being carted around like an invalid.

Mandy strolled to his side with his duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her blond hair ruffling in the wind, and her cheeks rosy. Even though she wasn’t smiling, her eyes sparkled cheerfully. She seemed perfectly content to do everything for him, but he hated being treated as if he were helpless, especially by her.

“I can carry my own bag,” he grumbled.

She chuckled. “You’re not allowed to lift anything for three weeks.”

“It’s a bag of clothes, not rocks.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Listen, Prince Charming, if you keep up the attitude, I’m going to invite your aunt to stay with you.”

He cringed as he watched his dad pull Mandy’s sedan around. Having Pops there was bad enough, but at least his dad didn’t hover. His aunt would be shoving food in his face and offering foot massages on the hour. “Fine.”

She leaned down, her honey hair falling over her eyes. “You get to lie in bed and be served. If you’re really good, I might even tend to you in lingerie.” She kissed him on the cheek, then tucked her loose locks behind her ears.

Though he tried not to, Justin cracked a smile as he pictured her in the little lace number she’d bought a few months ago. She’d only worn it once for him, but he’d never forget the way her breasts spilled out the top and her ass out the bottom. He eyed her body, picturing her naked under the loose knit sweater and tight jeans she wore–perfection. Maybe being taken care of wouldn’t be so bad.

The thought disappeared as soon as his dad parked by the curb. With Pops staying at his house, nighties flew out the window. His smile left in a hurry.

Mitch exited the car and strolled around to help Mandy steady Justin on his feet. They each grabbed an arm to help him stand, and yet he still managed to stumble forward when one knee gave out.

His dad pressed a hand to Justin’s sternum to keep him from hitting the car. “Steady there.”

Justin blanched, surprised by his wobbliness.
Maybe I am an invalid
. Even if the condition wasn’t permanent, the thought stung.

He regained his balance, and, still grasping his arm, his dad opened the passenger door. Justin carefully slid into the backseat, being extra careful not to stumble again, while Mandy scurried to the other side and scooted in next to him. Like a doting mother, she leaned over to buckle his seat belt.

He raised his hand to block her. “I can handle it.” Except when the chest strap touched his ribcage and he clicked the buckle in place, the piercing pain made him gasp. “Damn, that hurts!”

Mandy’s brow furrowed. “I’ll hold the belt out.” She tugged on it, but that just tightened the strap around his waist, and he groaned again. She nimbly unbuckled the seatbelt. “Are you a good driver, Mitch?”

His dad nodded. “I think I can get him home in one piece.”

She sighed. “No seatbelt for you.” Then, she buckled her own.

They got on the road, heading toward his house, and Mandy took his hand in hers. Her nails were painted a pale pink, the color matching her cheeks, and her skin was as soft as silk. God, he loved everything about her, and he missed being alone with her.

If his dad hadn’t been driving them, he would have leaned over and kissed her. His lips curled up in a small smile. He felt like a teenager heading to a movie with his girlfriend, Pops playing the chauffeur. His dad glanced in the rearview mirror, a stiff grin escaping his normally rigid face. Great, Pops was getting a kick out of it, too.

Justin leaned close to Mandy. “How long’s he staying?”

His dad’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Until you can take care of yourself again. According to the doctor, that’s about three weeks.”

Heat spread across Justin’s neck and crept up his face. “Did you get an ear transplant? I think they got your donor mixed up with a dog.”

Mandy patted his hand. “Be nice.”

Justin scowled at his dad, then turned the scowl on her.

She huffed. “I swear, I’ve seen burn patients with better attitudes than yours.”

Justin clamped his mouth shut. He was having a hard time processing his dad’s presence and, if they were going to be one big happy family, he wanted to know why. He bit down on the desire to ask flat out and squeezed Mandy’s hand. “Make me your awesome lasagna, and I’ll settle down.”

“We’re having steak tonight,” his dad said. “I already went shopping.”

Justin’s hold on Mandy’s hand became a death grip. Not only was his dad staying with him way too long, he was going to dictate his menu?

Seeming to sense Justin’s tension, Mandy leaned into him. “He’s trying to be nice.”

“Yes, I am,” his dad said. “And I thought you liked steak.”

Mandy pursed her lips. “I’m going to have to agree with Justin. Someone switched your implant with a dog’s.”

His dad reached toward the radio and dialed for a few seconds before settling on
All My Ex's Live in Texas
. He turned up the volume until the music rattled the whole car. “There!” he shouted over the melody. “Now you can whisper about me all you want.”

Justin shook his head. The next three weeks were going to be interesting.

* * *

Mandy sat at Justin’s kitchen table with her laptop and clicked Post. She’d just finished her fifth blog entry. Since Justin had been laid up, and his dad was taking care of the cooking, she had more free time. In a few more days, Mitch would leave, Justin would be up and about, and it’d be business as usual. Then, she’d have to sneak in blog time.

Under her post, a comment popped up. Sandy wrote:
Great insight into support groups. I’ve told a couple of gals I met at chemo about your blog. Expect more followers soon. Hugs
.

Two months ago, Mandy had attended her first support group in hopes of helping women going through breast cancer. Turned out, they helped her just as much. She wanted her blog followers to understand the importance of fellowship with women who’d experienced the fear of cancer. If she’d been better informed, she’d have joined a group a long time ago.

So far, she had twenty-four followers, all women with cancer or who had loved ones suffering from the disease. It was a promising start to something she was beginning to love—sharing her story in hopes of easing other’s plights.

Mandy stretched her hands to her sides and yawned. With her blog post done, she had nothing to do all afternoon, so she headed to a job search site where she’d posted her résumé a week ago. The older she got, the more second and third shifts drained her energy. She was starting to wonder if a pediatrician’s office would make a good fit for her.

“You plan on leavin’ my boy behind?”

Mandy jumped and whirled around.

Mitch set a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I swear you walk like a cat.”

He turned a hard glare on her. “You ain’t answered my question.”

Mandy’s gaze returned to her computer while he put away the food. He was awfully protective of his son for a disappearing father. “I just want to see what’s out there. If I took another job, it’d be in town.”

“Good to know.” After he put away the last item, a head of lettuce in the crisper drawer, he pulled out two beers. He seemed to be getting very comfortable at Justin’s house.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Speaking of jobs, have you ever thought of relocating to Corpus?”

“Do you even know what I do?”

“No idea.”

He twisted the caps off the beers and placed one in front of her. “I own a fishing charter company. I run four boats.”

“Given your talents, I bet you make a fortune.”

His eyes widened for a split second, before a closed-lipped grin spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. That boy is serious about you. Where is he anyway?”

“Taking a nap.”

He sat across from her, tipped his beer, and downed half of it. When he set the bottle back on the table, he stared at her, long and hard.

Despite his focused gaze, she didn’t feel particularly uneasy. Over the last two weeks, she’d grown accustomed to his serious gazes and pinched upper lip. On most days, a sort of amicable silence hung between them and, though they didn’t talk much, it felt as if they were on the same team, striving toward a common goal—healing Justin.

His lips twitched with a half-smile. “What’re your intentions with my son?”

She laughed so hard she snorted. “Isn’t that a conversation my dad should have with him?”

“Justin’s never given much attention to girls… women, I mean… before you.”

“How would you know?”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t around, doesn’t mean I ain’t kept tabs on him. He was focused on his job and savin’ his momma until you came along.” He pointed toward Justin’s bedroom. “That boy loves you, and Seward men don’t take relationships lightly.”

Mandy leaned back in her chair and studied the man with dark hair and Justin’s broad shoulders. She’d never expected to have such a conversation with him, but since he was opening up, she decided to take advantage. “Is that why you never left Justin’s mom?”

A shadow of pain crossed his face, and he nodded. “I don’t want you two to end up the way we did.” He fidgeted with his beer bottle, tearing the top of the label. “You know, Justin wouldn’t have told you about our heritage unless he had plans to marry you.”

Though she wasn’t blind to Justin’s feelings, hearing Mitch confirm her suspicions made her giddy with delight, not an emotion an old seafarer would find endearing. She took a swig of beer to hide her smile and grimaced as the bitter taste hit her tongue. It’d been years since she’d taken a drink of brew. She thought about slamming the bottle back on the table like his fishing buddies probably did, but that might be a bit too much camaraderie. She set it down quietly instead. “This is the most we’ve talked in the two weeks you’ve been here. What changed?”

“Yesterday, I decided I liked you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You don’t return the favor?”

She hesitated to tell him what she really thought, but since they were being open, there was no point in holding back. “You weren’t a father to Justin.”

His eyes widened as if he were surprised by her candor. “For ten years, I was a damn good father.”

“You let a tragedy get between you two. I see the torment in Justin’s eyes. He won’t talk to me about it, but he wants to be close to you. Only he’s afraid if he reaches out, you’ll bolt again.” She sighed, confused because she actually liked Mitch, and she felt guilty about it since he’d caused Justin so much pain. “I hate seeing Justin hurt because of you.”

Mitch stood and headed for the fridge, his shoulders a notch lower than before. He grabbed another beer, popped the top, and sat back down. For a moment, she thought he was preparing to explain himself. Instead, he said, “You know much about Atë?”

“As in eat?”

“No. As in the goddess Atë.”

Mandy shook her head. “What does that have to do with you and your son?”

“Everything. You see, Atë was a bitch. Is a bitch, actually. She’s still wanderin’ around, causing mischief.”

“A goddess, wandering around…” She wanted to roll her eyes, but she’d been privy to what Justin could do with water, and suddenly a tremble ran up her spine. Goddesses really did walk the earth.
Freaky
.

“Her sisters are always cleanin’ up her messes.”

“Sisters?”

“The Litai. They follow Atë around and try to fix the damage she inflicts on mortals.”

“Okaaaay.”

“Justin ain’t told you any of this?”

“I don’t think he knows this story.”

“Well, he was nine when I told him. Since it wasn’t about sports, I doubt he paid attention.”

“Seems like it’d be hard to forget, considering how strange it is.”

Mitch folded his hands on the table as if he were morphing into a professor educating his pupil. “It gets stranger. Just guzzle more beer.”

Mandy took a swig, the libation getting more palatable with each sip, which was a blessing, because she had a feeling she was going to need a buzz to finish hearing his tale of goddesses.

When she’d downed half her beer in one gulp, Mitch continued. “Triton pissed Atë off.”

“Oh, dear.”