Page 35 of Clara's Secure Hideaway

Clara chuckled from the doorway. “Wow, for a big bad sheriff’s deputy you’re pretty easy on them. Stand firm or they’ll walk all over you.”

Avery sat up and frowned. “I no walk on anyone, Mama.”

He couldn’t stop his grin from growing.

Clara struggled against her own smile but managed to keep a no-nonsense expression on her face. “Maybe not, but you are trying to get Heath to do more than he promised which isn’t nice. So say good night and I’ll finish tucking you in.”

“Sorry, kiddos. Gotta listen to your mom. I’ll see you both in the morning and I’ll read to you then.” Walking away from the disappointed faces was harder than facing down an armed robber.

He made a beeline for the kitchen and grabbed a beer, choosing to sit in the living room with a good view of the Christmas tree. He replayed the events of the day and a kind of satisfaction he’d never known settled over him. Hours had flown by between silly stories, endless giggles, and watching his mom light up as she lost herself in her interactions with Clara and her kids. Nothing too exciting or grand happened, but the day had been perfect.

Had given him a glimpse at what his life was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Clara asked, standing in front of him with her head tilted to the side. Her long, dark hair hung over one shoulder and the reflection of multi-colored lights dotted her skin.

“I’m wondering how I’m so exhausted when I barely left the house today.” He scootched to the side, allowing her space to sit next to him.

She sat then shifted to face him, hiking up one knee and leaning her body on the back of the sofa. “Welcome to parenthood.”

Her words hit him square in the chest. Emotion lodged in his throat, and he took a long pull of his beer to wash it away.

“I didn’t mean?—”

He held up a palm. “You’re fine. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, and spending time with your kids just confirms that. They’re great and loads of fun. Just exhausting as hell.”

“Amen. You’re really good with them, by the way, so thank you. They don’t have a lot of experience with a man who wants to play with them and read them stories at bedtime. This is a memory that will stick with them. I appreciate you, and your mom.” Her eyebrows hiked up. “Where is she, by the way?”

“In bed. She was more worn out than me. Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks. Just a minute to sit and talk without kids climbing all over me is bliss.” A moment of silence passed before she added, “I had a nice conversation with your mom earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” He figured his mom would find time to say what was on her mind as soon as he left them alone. Neither had mentioned anything, but since the day had gone by so smoothly, he assumed anything they’d discussed had gone well.

“I wanted to thank you for trusting me,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me something you haven’t shared with anyone. Your mom mentioned you chose never to talk about why you moved here when you were younger. Those can’t be easy memories to carry. The fact that you confided just a small piece of that with me means a lot.”

Her words weighed heavy on his chest. He hadn’t said much. Just enough to let her know that she could trust his mom, know she came from a place of understanding when she opened her door. But by sharing that tiny piece, it had lifted something from his shoulder he hadn’t known he carried.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Clara said. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

He swallowed hard, debating on what to say next. He could take the easy way out and move the conversation to a different topic. But he didn’t want to. Mimicking her position, he placed his brown bottle on the side table and faced her. “You don’t need to thank me. I wanted you to be comfortable here, but I never thought talking about what happened to my mom—what happened to me—could affect me at all.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged, searching for the right way to express something he didn’t quite understand. “I always looked at my childhood as something bad that happened to my mom. He hit her, mentally tortured her, and used me to upset her. Beyond that, he ignored me. I always figured she was the one who’d been hurt—who bears the scars from a monster. But when I spent time with your kids that first night, I saw myself.”

His mind flashed back to the scared little boy he’d once been, and a vise squeezed his lungs, stealing his breath.

Clara reached across the empty space to rest her hand on his. “I’m sorry you lived through that. It’s not easy for a child to see. To experience the temper and ugliness from someone who’s supposed to love them unconditionally. You’re lucky you have such a good mom who sheltered you as much as she did. Who gave you a safe space to hide—to live. It couldn’t have been easy for either one of you.”

“I remember when we moved into this house. She filled it with so much love and joy. It didn’t matter that we didn’t have money for things other kids had. I didn’t care about any of that. All I wanted was to hear her laugh. See her smile. I made it my mission to help her any way I could, to do whatever I could to make her world a better place.”

Clara locked her fingers with his and squeezed. “Trust me, you make her world the best place just by existing. I’m honored you showed me this side of your life. That you’d introduce me to your mom just to keep me safe.”

The feel of her soft skin on his sent jolts of excitement shooting up his arm. Something about the way she stared at him—her eyes filled with hope and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on—moved him closer to her. “Is that why you think I’ve done any of this?”

---