Page 36 of The Southern Thirst Trap

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” I say to the closed door, hoping she’s still just on the other side, listening.

That woman. She’s infuriating. She’s infatuating. She could be my most epic downfall.

It takes me several moments after her garage is shut to get my feet to move away. It takes longer to admit that she may have won this battle, but the war is still mine to win.

twenty

Harlowe

“Mama,doIhavea daddy?”

My breath catches in my throat, as cold, hard fear blurs my vision. I gratefully pull into my driveway and jerkily throw the extra nice rental vehicle I was somehow upgraded to at no cost to me into park and blink back threatening tears. My baby, my four-year-old child, the one I wanted to shield from the horrors of the world a little longer, just asked me the one question I never wanted to hear from him.

And on the day Zander fucking Olsen showed up to tell me he’s not done with me. That he finally wants to try again, like he didn’t put five years of hell between us when he blocked me. His soft touch at the end of our argument nearly erased the pain and hurt we were exchanging. It almost crumbled my defenses and had me sinking to my knees in relief.

But I couldn’t do it. Not right then. And I’m proud that I could stick up for myself and demand better than whatever Zander is willing to give. There is no way the billionaire fuckboy has reformed and would be stable enough to bring into our lives now. Putting my heart on the line is one thing, but I have Hendricks to think about above all else. I look into the rearview mirror at his sweet face and gorgeous gray eyes that ground me back in the present.

“Why do you ask, love bug?” My voice is calm, but I can hear the strain in the words and just hope Hendricks misses it.

“I heard Miss Sharon and Miss Stephanie say my name at school, but they weren’t talking to me. They were talking about my daddy. I didn’t know I had a daddy, but they said I did. They said,” he pauses, rolling a Hot Wheels car along his thigh, his brow scrunched up in contemplation. “They said he had powers and money. Is my daddy a superhero, like Black Panther or Batman?”

More like Iron Man,I think. A billionaire businessman fuckboy sounds closer to Zander. Besides, Tony Stark happily reveals that he is Iron Man. Zander would totally bask in his glory if he were capable of creating a superhero persona. I’m going to have to talk to his teachers if they’re gossiping in front of my kid.

“Is he?” Hendricks asks again, forcing me to stop imagining a fictional Zander in hot superhero armor and return to the very real boy in the backseat. The weight on my shoulders eases a little, knowing he is more interested in knowing if his father is a superhero than who his father actually is.

I turn in my seat and face him. He looks up and smiles his bright, innocent smile. How much do I tell him? How much will he understand? What is the right answer for his little boy mind that is far too advanced for some of his emotions? I sigh.

“Everyone has a father, but not everyone gets to know them as a daddy. You have me, and we’re a team.” I hope that satisfies his inquisitiveness.

“But does my father have superpowers? It would be so cool if he could fly or shoot bad guys with rockets, pew pew!” He stretches his fist up and blasts imaginary foes from his car seat.

I smile, wondering if it would be easier to just say his father is a superhero busy fighting crime, so he can’t be a part of our lives. Finally, I just go with the truth, knowing at some point he will know it regardless. “He is as normal as you and me, my love. No superpowers that I know of.”

“Are you sure? Most superheroes hide their powers and only show ‘em when they’re wearing a mask. Maybe he didn't show you his powers. I bet he would show me. I would keep his secret.” Hendricks returns his attention to his toy cars, muttering rocket noises to himself as he enacts a chase across his legs.

Hendricks is right. Zander showed me exactly what he wanted to, and then shut me out when it got too real. Or maybe I saw what I wanted, a promise of something more with a well-known fuckboy, when it was me being delusional thinking I could be the one to change his ways. I fell into the same trap so many women do, thinking I could change the man, turn him into something more dependable and worthy of my efforts and attention. I was shortsighted enough to believe the attention he gave me was an indication of his intentions for after the trip. The writing was always on the wall; I just chose not to read it for what it was. Not until it was too late.

I climb out of the car and unbuckle Hendricks from his car seat. His baby fat is nearly gone, slowly morphing his body into that of a lean child. “I’m pretty sure he’s just a normal guy, no superpowers, but if he did, I know you would hold his secret safe in your big heart, because you are trustworthy and good, my little man.”

“You’re good, too, Mama. He should have told you about his powers, so you could tell me and we could keep the secret together.” He wraps his arms around my neck and hugs me fiercely, as if he knows that I need it so much right now.

I smile and kiss his golden cheek and bury my nose in his soft curls as I hold him in my arms. He still smells like my baby, even as he slowly outgrows my arms. When will he be big enough to know the story of how he came to be? When will I feel comfortable telling him about his father and why that man isn’t a part of his life? Will I even get the chance to choose the time, or has it been picked for me, forcing me to break into the past and pull it into the light, pale and squirming in my hands?

“Can we watch Iron Man? Or Cars? I wanna have a movie night and eat snacks on the couch with you,” he says, detailing our weekend ritual despite it being a weeknight.

“Of course,” I reply, not able to deny him the small pleasure.

My phone vibrates in my bag, and I shift Hendricks to my hip so I can retrieve it. I finally turned it back on consistently after a week, hoping that was enough time to avoid the constant barrage of questions from everyone who has my number. It has stayed relatively silent and lulled me into a false sense of security that my life would right itself. When my fingers finally pull the sleek phone from my bag, it’s Knox’s face and number on the screen. I prop the phone between my shoulder and face, answering with a quick hello.

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice rumbling in my ear. “You and the little man wanna hang tonight?”

I glance at Hendricks, clinging to my body as I haul him into the house and finally manage to set him down. “I told Hendricks we would watch movies together tonight. I’ll have to ask if he wants company,” I say.

Mom greets us and takes Hendricks’s hand. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen for a snack? Mama is on the phone,” she says, giving me a wink. I cringe and palm my forehead.

“Oh, and my mom is here. She’s been helping me out with everything that’s been going on, so you would have to meet her,” I hedge, not sure I even want that. Knox and I haven’t gotten serious. He feels more like a friend I kiss sometimes, and though he’s now a part of Hendricks’s life, would it make it too real to introduce him to my mom?

“You know, I’m great with moms. I don't mind meeting yours if you want me to. I’m also totally okay hanging at home and letting y’all have some family time. I just thought…” he trails off, his voice uncertain.

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