Page 85 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Arch?”

He stands tall, and his somber face reveals everything I’ve been too afraid to say since the moment Ty barged in and threatened to take custody.

My strength evaporates when confronted with reality. “I’m so sorry.”

Archer’s chest collides with my face as he envelopes me in a suffocating hug. “I understand, baby, I do.” His hand cradles my head, his heartbeat erratic beneath my cheek. “I wouldn’t jeopardize Clementine’s well-being for the world.”

I lift my eyes. “It’s not fair. I don’t—”

“Stop, Willa.” Archer’s voice cracks, and rather than say more, he offers me his mouth. I jump at the opportunity to kiss him once more, one last time. To memorize his lips, his taste. My hands splay across his jaw, relishing the scratch of his trimmed scruff.

He tears away too soon. Turning on his heels almost in anger as he sends a hand through his mussed hair. I fold my arms around my stomach, holding all my pieces together as Archer squats in front of Clem.

“I love you, baby girl,” he sweeps his knuckles over her cheek, “so, so much.” His jagged inhale is audible as Clem squeals and bounces. Turning his face away, he reaches for his keys on the counter and steps around me.

I half expect him to leave without another word, but his fingers brush mine as he pauses, and I hold my breath. “Call me if you needanything, Rosebud.”

Before I reply, Archer walks out of our lives with a hoarse, “I love you.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven

ARCHER

As I drive homefrom Willa’s house, a message on my phone’s calendar pops up reminding me that Leah is taking the boys to a UVM men’s hockey game after school, so I won’t see them until tomorrow. Their absence allows me twenty-four hours to unravel in self-contempt and alcohol, and I plan to use them well.

Starting with a good cry that takes over once I pull into the privacy of my garage and turn off the engine. I crumple against the steering wheel of my Expedition, nothing stopping my tears. Half of my soul is dead. The prospect of losing not only Willa but Clementine, too, leaves a sinkhole in my chest.

Working to gain my composure, I move inside to the kitchen, where I down the little alcohol I keep in the house—two beers and half a bottle of vodka from the Moscow Mules we made over Christmas. The burning in my gut doesn’t make me feel better, but the liquid courage does send me back to the garage, where I beat the tar out of my punching bag and call it Ty. Once my knuckles are bloody and swollen, exhaustion hits. Sweating vodka from my pores, I collapse on the couch in the game room.

It’s past dark and after dinner when I wake and pull myself together enough to hunt for something to fill my sloshing stomach. I find a bottle of Willa’s favorite red wine that we bought for one of our future movie nights. Satisfied, I sit at the kitchen table drinking from the bottle and eat french bread while alternating between tears and a slew of curses.

Pitiful.

I’m not too macho to admit I pass out across my bed at 3:00 a.m. with one of Clem’s toys and my head on Willa’s pillow.

I hate myself this morning. I hate that I didn’t argue more with her about waiting and seeing what happened next, but how could I? I don’t know Ty, but I saw the look in his eyes when he was using Clem and me to hurt Willa. He got off on it. Do I think he truly wants custody of Clem? Hell no. I think he wants control. He wants to dictate to his ex, the woman he left, what she can and can’t do because—and this is just my guess—rich college boy screwed up, and didn’t realize it until he saw Willa moving on without him. Why he waited for so long to come forward is anyone’s guess, but it’s not out of love. The man barely looked at Clem. If I thought a murderer was around my boys, I’d have snatched them from that house so fast.

The biggest obstacle I face today, other than my grief of losing my Hawthorne girls, is the loathing I harbor toward my younger self. The Archer who killed Bo Grimes. That anger sobers me up quickly. I can’t go down the rabbit hole of what-ifs. I did enough second-guessing during my incarceration and trial. I wouldneverregret rushing into our house that night to protect not only Nolan and Eli but Leah, too.

If my past loses me my future, I will mourn the possibilities, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Feeling somewhat optimistic, I down a lot of coffee, take a long hot shower, and get to work keeping my mind busy. Eventually, I conclude that Ty won’t ruin us. At least, I don’t think he will. I just need to give Willa time to let recent events settle in her mind so she can figure things out. For all the help she’s needed since we met, I still know her to be a self-reliant woman. And the last thing I want is to push my way in to try and fix this situation and risk pushing her further away.

“Dad?”

I roll my chair away from my screens and brace myself as Eli’s arrival breaks the solitude of the last thirty hours. He bursts into my office with Nolan not far behind. “When is Willa coming over?”

“Hi to you, too.” I force a smile. “How was school?”

“Good. When’s Willa coming?”

“She can’t today, bud.”

“But she was supposed to help me put together my new Lego set. She promised.”

I run my hand over his head, swallowing rising emotion. “And she feels really bad about not being able to come, but maybe another day. Or you and I can do it today. I’d love to help you.”

His head hangs. “Okay.”

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