Page 34 of Gifts

My phone dings again.

Asa – Open the front door.

This time I don’t ignore him.

Me – No. I’m on my way to bed.

I hear his truck door slam.

Asa – Open the door, Keelie.

My head falls back with a thump on the wall. Why? Why now? His text earlier was enough, and even though it was a text, it did us both a favor of avoiding the weird, uncomfortable face-to-face thing that no one wants to experience. I appreciate that text. What I don’t appreciate is an after midnight visit on a Monday night. Or Tuesday morning, but whatever. All I want right now is my bed and pillow.

I hear a knock on my front door, albeit, a soft one. He doesn’t know he’ll never wake my kids—they sleep like the dead. The dogs, on the other hand, will go berserk if they hear. This is what I tell myself as I rush to the front door and swing it open.

There he is, towering over me again, and since I’m barefoot in a pair of loose sleep-shorts and a thin t-shirt, he feels even bigger tonight. His hand rests high on the outside of my door jamb where he’s leaning, looking down at me. I can’t decipher what he’s thinking.

“What do you want?” I demand. That didn’t come out all rainbows and butterflies, but it’s late, he was practically spying on me, and now we’re going to have to do the weird face-to-face thing I was so grateful to avoid.

He frowns. “Don’t you have an alarm?”

“Yes. I just hadn’t set it yet. I was on my way to do that when I found you spying on me.”

He tips his head. “Where are the dogs?”

I exhale, even more frustrated. “They’re in with the kids and their door is shut. I’m lucky you haven’t roused them.”

“You should’ve had your alarm set,” he keeps on like it’s any of his business.

I shake my head and don’t invite him in. He’s standing among all the construction riffraff on my porch, which probably won’t be finished for years. “What do you want?”

With that, his eyes move. It’s ridiculous to say I can feel them. Only teenagers would say shit like that. But still, his eyes glide down my body, landing on my feet before boomeranging their way back up. Fuck me, it’s been so long since someone has looked at me like that, his gaze silked over my skin smoothly. When those dark eyes trimmed in green finally focus on mine, his lips purse before his deep voice utters, “Came to apologize for texting instead of calling. I had a rough afternoon with Emma and she needed my attention.”

My defenses melt away and here I am left feeling guilty again. His kids should take precedence. The tension releases from my shoulders and I shake my head, whispering, “Never apologize for making your kids a priority. Not to me anyway. Is she okay?”

He ignores my question. “Killed me to send that text.”

I lean into the door. “It’s for the best.”

“Not so sure of that.” He sighs. “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“You’re a good dad, Asa. Levi will graduate and go to college, and no matter what’s going on with Emma, she’ll come around with your help. I’ll do what I can from my end at school, but she’ll get there.”

“I need to make sure she’s good. Our rough afternoon turned into a rougher evening. I’ve got to focus on her. Still didn’t make me happy to send that text. You don’t know how badly I didn’t want to send it.”

I take a deep breath and decide to drive the last nail into any sort of doubt he might be having. “I never should have agreed to dinner with you. When I say don’t worry about it, I mean it. It’s for the best. I can’t bring just anyone into my kids’ lives, I hope you can appreciate that. They need stability above all else. It doesn’t matter what I might want. In the end, I need to think about them, just like your kids need your time and attention.”

His voice becomes sharp. “You don’t know me well, but I’d never do anything to jeopardize the wellbeing of your children, Keelie. Ever.”

I know I can protect my kids. I have and I’ll continue to do so like the mama bear I’ve grown into since it’s all on me. It might be an excuse—hell, I know it’s an excuse—but I need to get him off my doorstep quick-like because I’m having about as much fun as I’ve had in the past two years, which suffice it to say, is not a lot of fucking fun.

“I’m sure you’re well-meaning but, I know more than anyone, nothing is guaranteed.” I take a step toward him and try my best to end this. The brisk nip in the early spring air makes me shiver. I put a hand on his wide, firm chest and look up to him as I whisper, “I’m not divorced, Asa. My husband was killed almost two years ago.”

He narrows his eyes and his jaw goes hard, but other than that, he has no response.

I press my hand into his chest before letting it slip away and explain to him why he should want nothing to do with us. To say that Knox, Saylor, and I come with baggage heavier than the Kardashians is an understatement. “It took a long time to get my little family to where we are. My kids are happy enough and I need to keep it that way. I can’t risk them getting attached to someone only to lose them again. I have to think about my kids first and so do you.”

He takes a step closer, as close as he can without touching me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel his heat and want more of it.

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