To Be a Dad. Kate Kelly

as he stood, and she grabbed a handful of his hair.

      “Look at me, Mommy.”

      Teressa pulled out of the backseat with a sleeping Brendon in her arms. She gave her daughter a weary smile. “You have to let go of Dusty’s hair, honey, but hold tight to his neck.”

      Sarah released her death grip on his head to clamp a tiny hand right on his larynx. Dusty tried to breath, but his throat was blocked. He galloped to the house, anxious to get her off his back.

      He put her down as soon as he reached the back stoop, took her hand and went inside, switching on the kitchen light. Teressa followed on his heels. They stood, silent, surveying the gutted house. The cold, gutted house. He’d been so excited that Pops had given him money to work with that he’d forgotten to start a fire before going to Teressa’s to tell her the good news.

      “I know it’s a mess,” he began. Sarah let go of his hand and slipped behind her mother. Teressa looked everywhere but at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

      “We’re going to fix it up,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ve hired Josh to work on the house instead of coming out on the boat with me. Cal said he’d help when he could, and Adam will, too. And me, of course. And you.” He sent a silent plea to Teressa. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

      “Of course it is,” Teressa said in a too bright voice. “Where are the bedrooms? Sarah and Brendon need to be in bed.”

      He cleared his throat, feeling like a total loser. “Um...the bedrooms are crammed full of stuff right now. But I’ve got a king-size bed, and there’s lots of room for you and the kids.”

      Teressa’s mouth hung open. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said and waved vaguely around the living room. “Just let me change the sheets on my bed.” And pick up the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor after his shower. And, hell, that magazine Andy had given him as a joke for his birthday last month.

      He left them standing in the middle of the living room, looking like shell-shocked refugees. What was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t leave them at Teressa’s mom’s, and the closest hotel open at this time of the year was sixty kilometers away.

      You could have taken them home. Although his father had given the old family house to Sylvie, he still thought of the house as home. Sylvie was living with Adam in his tiny house next door to the family home, because they planned to start renovating the old house soon, if they hadn’t already.

      The truth was he needed to take care of Teressa and the kids himself. Which was stupid and selfish and proved he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.

      Sarah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her doll to her chest.

      “Where’s your mother?”

      “In the bathroom, crying.”

      Hell. “Brendon?”

      “He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stepped into the room. “You’re a bigger slob than Brendon.”

      “I can change.” He tucked the edge of the bottom sheet under the mattress corner.

      “How come Grammy hit Mommy?”

      Because she was an evil witch. Dusty punched the pillow before he put it back on the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t know your grammy very well, but it’s wrong to hit people.”

      “You hit that man at the bonfire.”

      The annual bonfire, a couple months ago. He couldn’t remember if he’d hit the SOB who’d been sniffing around Teressa that night or not. He’d been so drunk he doubted he’d done any damage, and he’d been too embarrassed afterward to ask. He’d gotten the idea that he and Teressa were going to the bonfire together. Sort of like a couple. But she’d turned up with that tourist who’d been hanging around her, and when one of his buddies had passed Dusty the rum, he’d gotten a glow on.

      No wonder Teressa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying him. At thirty-two, he still acted like a kid. He had to grow up fast.

      “Are those your pajamas?” He threw the comforter over the clean bed.

      “Yes.”

      “Okay, climb in bed. I’ll get your brother.”

      “What about Mommy?” she asked after crawling under the blankets. She looked so tiny in the middle of his bed.

      “I’ll get her after you guys are settled.”

      Two minutes later he carried Brendon to the bed and tucked the sleeping boy in beside his sister. “Is he supposed to go to the washroom or something?” The last thing he needed was kid pee on his expensive mattress.

      “No, silly. He wears diapers at night.”

      “Right. Okay. So, lights. Want them off or on?”

      “Off, but leave the door open.”

      He switched off the light and edged toward the door. “I’ll get your mom now.”

      “Dusty?”

      “Yeah?”

      “You’re supposed to kiss us good-night.”

      He felt a weird snick inside, almost as if something was clicking into place. He strode back to the bed, dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then leaned over her and kissed Brendon. “Good night, funny-face,” he said from the doorway.

      Sarah giggled. “That’s not my name.”

      Dusty smiled in the dark. “It is now.”

      His smile slipped as he faced the closed bathroom door. He stared at it for a couple of minutes like the dumb idiot he was, then turned and walked back to the living room. Teressa had once told him she’d never caught a break in her life, and now here she was, stuck with him, a place she’d never wanted to be. He needed a beer.

      He went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and popped the lid. He didn’t know what to say to Teressa to make her feel better. Your mother’s a bitch, forget about her? Everything’s going to be okay? Was it? He and Teressa squabbled on a regular basis, and that was with not nearly as much at stake. He had feelings for her, but were they enough to sustain them through having a child together?

      He took a swig of beer. And yeah, he resented that she had children with two other guys. She’d have been smarter if she’d hung out with him. Except he’d been busy with...Suzy? Julie? He was such a shit. How could he be mad at Teressa for doing exactly what he’d been doing at the time? He put his beer on the counter and called Sylvie to let her know what had happened and ask for a favor. When he hung up, he went back to the bathroom. He had to at least try to make Teressa feel better.

      He knocked softly on the door. “You okay?”

      “Um, yes, of course.” He heard her run the water in the sink.

      “We need to talk, Teressa.”

      “I’ll be out in a minute.”

      He stared at the door, waiting for her to say something else. Something smart-ass, like she usually did. After a couple of minutes he went back to his beer in the kitchen. He was out of his depth, and he wished someone would give him a checklist. Crying woman locked in bathroom—break down door. Check. All that would do was wake up the kids.

      He tensed when he heard the bathroom door open and close. It took a few minutes, but Teressa finally walked into the kitchen. Shuffled into the kitchen. Hell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop from hauling her into his arms. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.

      He and Teressa may have had their differences from time to time, but underneath all the stuff that went on between them, they were good friends. Teressa was a fighter, but her mother’s attack must have knocked her for sixty. And then, to come here to this mess.

      “It’ll get better. I promise.”

      She