Clayton
Clayton tried and failed to negotiate the lake that had formed in front of Beth’s house, his boots disappearing into the mud. He stifled the urge to issue a string of profanities. He could see the windows open near the front door, and he knew that Nana would hear him. Despite her age, the woman had the hearing of an owl, and the last thing he wanted to do was make a poor impression. The woman already disliked him enough.
He climbed the steps and knocked on the door. He thought he heard someone moving inside, saw Beth’s face in the window, and finally watched as the door swung open.
“Keith? What are you doing here?”
“I was worried,” he said. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“It’s fine,” she said.
“Is he still here? Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No. He’s gone. I don’t know where he is.”
Clayton shuffled his feet, trying to look contrite. “I’m sorry about this, and I hate that I had to be the one to tell you. I know you really liked him.”
Beth nodded, her lips pursed.
“I also wanted to tell you not to be so hard on yourself. Like I mentioned earlier, people like that . . . they’ve learned to hide it. They’re sociopaths, and there’s no way you could have known.”
Beth crossed her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Clayton held up his hands, knowing he’d pushed too hard, knowing he had to backtrack. “I figured. And you’re right. It’s not my place, especially given the crappy way I’ve treated you in the past.” He tucked his thumb into his belt and forced a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
“I’m fine. And thanks.”
Clayton turned to leave, then stopped. “I want you to know that from what Ben said, Thibault seemed like a nice guy.”
She looked up in surprise.
“I just wanted to tell you that, because had it been different—had anything happened to Ben—Thibault would have regretted the day he was born. I would die before I let anything happen to our son. And I know you feel the same way. That’s why you’re such a great mom. In a life where I’ve made a ton of mistakes, one of the best things I’ve done is to let you raise him.”
She nodded, trying to stop the tears, and turned away. When she swiped at her eyes, Clayton took a step toward her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “I know you don’t want to hear this now, but trust me, you did the right thing. And in time, you’re going to find someone, and I’m sure he’s going to be the best guy ever. You deserve that.”
Her breath hiccuped, and Clayton reached out for her. Instinctively, she leaned into him. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and for a long moment, they stood on the porch, their bodies close together as he held her.
Clayton didn’t stay long. There was no need, he thought: He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Beth now saw him as the kind, caring, and compassionate friend, someone who’d atoned for his sins. The hug was just the icing on the cake—nothing he’d planned, but a nice conclusion to their encounter.
He wouldn’t press her. That would be a mistake. She needed some time to get over Thigh-bolt. Even if he was a sociopath, even if the guy left town, feelings aren’t turned on and off like a switch. But they would pass as surely as the rain would continue to fall. Next step: to make sure that Thigh-bolt was on his way back to Colorado.
And then? Be the nice guy. Maybe invite Beth over while he and Ben were doing something, ask her to stay for a barbecue. Keep it casual at first, so she didn’t suspect anything, and then suggest doing something with Ben on another night of the week. It was essential that he keep the whole thing far from Nana’s prying eyes, which meant staying away from here. Though he knew Beth wouldn’t be thinking straight for at least a few weeks, Nana would be, and the last thing he wanted was for Nana to get in Beth’s ear about what he was likely up to.
After that, as they got used to each other again, maybe they’d have a few beers together while Ben was sacked out, sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Maybe spike her beer with a bit of vodka so she couldn’t drive home. Then offer to let her sleep in the bed while he took the couch. Be the perfect gentleman, but keep the beer flowing. Talk about the old times—the good ones—and let her cry about Thigh-bolt. Let the emotions flow and slip a comforting arm around her.
He smiled as he started the car, pretty sure he knew what would happen after that.