Page 135 of Stags

She shook her head. “That is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever said to me. I am not bad for myself.”

“You are,” he said. “You’re always punishing yourself for no reason, blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault. I bet you have been drinking too much all week and telling yourself that you’re irrational and that you ruined everything between us.” He plucked the drink out of her hands and took a drink of it. “Am I right?”

“No,” she said, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“It was my fault,” he said. “Everything you said was right. I was skipping steps. I was trying to control you. I wanted to mold you into an image more of my liking… but then I realized that would suck, because you wouldn’t be you anymore. And I’m in love with you.”

She lifted her gaze to his, biting down on her bottom lip. “I love you, too, you know.”

“You don’t have to say that,” he said, taking a big gulp of her drink.

She snatched it back. “Who said you could have this?”

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, but he didn’t take it from her. “You know, you’re good for me, too. I need to get out of the house sometimes, actually. But, uh, you could stand to stay in sometimes.” He reached out and caught his finger in one of her belt loops. He pulled her close, and she found herself nestled against him, his huge thighs flanking her body. He licked the outline of her ear. “I was wrong, okay? I like it. The drama.”

She tried to pull away.

He didn’t let her. “You like it, too.”

“You want to change me,” she said in a tight voice.

“I just want to chase you,” he said, and he let go of her. “Can I?”

She drew in a breath, looking around the room, her head spinning from too much drinking, and then back to him, to his scent and his presence and his fucking flannel. “But you want to catch me?”

“Catch and release?” He shrugged.

She lifted her chin. “We can’t keep that up forever.”

“Let’s try.”

She let out a breath, and she felt oddly tender and vulnerable and, well, seen. She couldn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded as her eyes stung.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“WELL,” SAID TAWNY’Smother, pouring chamomile tea into a mug as she settled at the kitchen table in her house, “I want you to know that you’re always welcome here, and that this is your home, whenever you need it, but I have to say, I’m a little relieved.” She handed her daughter the cup of tea.

Tawny accepted the mug, surprised. “You are?”

“I’m only saying, after your brother moved out, I turned that other bedroom into my craft room, and I was thinking of the hassle of that, and the baby crying all night, and…” Her mother poured herself some tea, too. “That sounds dreadfully selfish, doesn’t it, but really, I raised you to be independent, and I’ve always been proud of you. I always knew you were going to do things your own way. Now, we can put a little crib in the craft room and—of course—I’ll be a grandma all day while you’re at work, but then, we’ll have a little time not to be on top of each other constantly. It’s not traditional, but maybe tradition is overrated, in some ways.”

Tawny hadn’t thought her mother would say those words aloud, but she had to admit, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Her mother liked her independence, too, after all. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree and all of that.

“And tell me again about this stag of yours, waiting on you hand and foot and running all your errands?” Her mother smirked at her from over the lip of the mug of tea.

Tawny couldn’t help but smile. “He’s not moving in with me either, but we live close, only three blocks away, and we spend most nights together anyway, so it shouldn’t be difficult for us to be together once the baby is born.”

“Well, good,” said her mother. “It’s backwards, maybe, keeping fathers from their children. You know how your uncle used to go to watch all of those recitals for that little fawn of Gemma’s, of course. I know he was convinced she was his, even though Gemma would never say one way or the other. It sort of broke my heart, really, watching him want to be involved and never being allowed because of Gemma refusing to let him in.”

“Uncle Fraser was always a good uncle,” said Tawny.

“He was close to you kids, of course,” said her mother. “But it isn’t the same, and I don’t think we always acknowledge that. You do this, then. You let that Athos dote on the both of you. We should all have dinner or something.”

“Okay,” said Tawny, surprised at that. She hadn’t expected her mother to be so welcoming. “I think that sounds nice.”

“You like him, then?” said her mother.

“I do,” said Tawny, nodding. “Well, he likes me, anyway, and I like him for that. I’m a lot to take.”

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