Page 42 of Something Like Sugar (Pine Forest Something #2)

DUSTIN

TWO WEEKS LATER

A ballerina dances in an open window, as the sun peeks over amber fields and coffee masks the air.

Her nose crinkles.

“Ew, why do you brew the dark roast when I’m over? It smells like a skunk.” She sinks to a butterfly stretch and breathes in with another coffee-induced nostril flare, returning to her yoga.

Who knew my whole world could fit so perfectly in the form of a beautiful woman sassing me before six a.m.?

Seems the whole town did. Word has started to filter around about the incident, despite a bulletproof NDA Lawrence’s defense attorney must have been paid in gold to draft up.

We aren’t supposed to tell anyone about the incident until the sentencing next month, but it’s happening, and that’s all that matters. Lawrence Lawson is going away for an exceedingly long time.

Most of me still wants to knock him out cold and feed him to the mountain lions, piece by piece, for what he did, but I suppose that wouldn’t win me any points with Shana, now would it?

More importantly, a certain nimble someone might not let me give her cooking lessons if I act out again. My mouth curves, replaying the waffle cone session in my mind, at how completely she melted in my arms.

Cooking really isn’t her thing, but she wants to learn for the baby, so pancakes are next week’s lesson, and I pray like Hell it gets as messy as the last.

Today is for peace, though. For family.

Today, we tell my sister and Shay’s father of the pregnancy. She wanted to wait until she had her second blood test, and yesterday we did, along with an ultrasound, to confirm the baby is doing well after the stress of…everything.

She is.

Strong and perfect, just like her mother.

Today is a good day, because it’s also the day I tell my father our plans.

Peeling back these layers has been restorative for both of us. Sharing secrets has freed us from binds, physically and metaphorically. Even the ones we wrapped up ourselves.

I run my eyes over the woman I love, draped across my bed freely, glowing as the light surrounds her, and I pray that this never ends.

“Sorry about the coffee smell, but I can’t miss my father before his trip. To give him my decision.”

She grins, accepting the Gatorade I poured specially for her, my coffee-hating weirdo. “I’ll accept your apology juice. Now, let’s call Daddy Campbell.”

“Don’t call him that.” I shiver. “It has creeper vibes.”

“ You have creeper vibes. You are aware you actually stalked me, right? You looked in my window to watch me undress and monitor the health of my houseplant.”

“It doesn’t count when you’re amicable and attractive,” I tease. “I’m like a friendly, vigilante spider-hybrid.”

“No.” She giggles, shaking her head at me hysterically. “That is nothing like what happened. And anyway, I never got an upside-down kiss, so if you are a spider-hybrid, you’re a lousy one, and I’m one peeved-off Mary Jane.”

“Peeved?” Now it’s my turn to laugh hysterically. I love this girl more than anyone could ever comprehend. I tickle her to the bed and flip her around before she can protest, and I grin ear to ear when her laughter sings through the bedroom.

I lower my mouth over hers, upside-down as requested.

“Is this what you imagined?” I kiss her.

“Not quite,” she says, eyeing my piercing. “See, in my fantasies, you spider manned me on my other lips.” She winks, and fuck if my cock and my heart have ever felt more in sync than around this woman right here.

Dad’s custom ringtone cuts through the moment and we both sputter, righting ourselves and accepting the video call.

“H-Hey, Dad.”

“Son. Good to see you.” He sounds sincere. “And Shana, I’m relieved to see you recovered. How is my grandson?” He beams with pride, as if he’s the father himself. Strangely it doesn’t bother me like it used to, and I sift it off like sand.

“Just the same as two weeks ago.” Shana snorts, rolling her eyes.

“You know she’s only like seven weeks cooked, right?

Most people don’t even know they’re pregnant this early.

I don’t want to…you know.” She wiggles, voicing the concern she shared with me last night.

“I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch and peep and, maybe even fly, ya know? ”

I’m impressed she feels comfortable sharing it. She’s come a long way from the girl who was scared to speak to others. My heart swells when my father meets her concerns like…like a father.

I’m grateful he cares, because we’re trying now, he and I. And that brings me to why I asked him to call.

“Dad, I’ve decided to take the job with you. To be your apprentice.” He doesn’t respond, but Shana squeezes my hand in support of whatever I choose.

“No,” he finally utters, desk drawer sliding open. “I will not have you work for me.”

“But—”

“You will be too busy working for yourself. Between Sugar Stable and your new property on Mullins Road, you have a lot to tackle as you navigate fatherhood.” He grins, crow’s feet and all.

Shana elbows my side, but I don’t understand.

“I have to earn Mullins, you said—”

“I know what I said.” He frowns, leaning closer to the camera…

and me. “I was wrong, Dustin. In so many ways, I have been wrong in my life, but lately you and your sister have taught me, well, it’s time I be right , not wrong.

And if what’s right is helping my son and his fiancée get two, no…

three businesses up and running as they grow our family, then that’s what I’ll do. ”

“But the studio,” Shana muses, “Pine Forest square. You said you’d let me and the others rent-to-own. Is that still on?”

“Of course,” he assures her, “but not for you. For you, I have paid it off in full. The title is yours, Miss Holiday. Consider it an early wedding gift to my daughter in law… I hope .” He winks at me.

“I can’t accept this.” Shana shakes her head at Dad through the screen.

“Well, you don’t have to marry him. You can still keep the title…I know he’s a lot.”

Shana rolls her eyes and snorts, but he presses on.

“I can’t let you. It’s too much,” she argues.

“No.” He tilts his head to me. “It’s not enough.”

Shana looks on, but I just shrug, perfectly aware how deep his pockets run and not giving a fuck how much of that he gives to my girl. Bout time he wasn’t an ass , I mouth, as she presses her lips together.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell,” she concedes.

“Don’t thank me.” Dad lights a cigar, waving it in the air.

“I’m a selfish man, after all. Need to keep Business Elite’s finest afloat if I want guest access to the twelfthfloor casinos , now, don’t I?

” He grins, taking a drag and nodding once before ending the call and all our fears in a matter of minutes.

Laughter cures all wounds, they say.

And by the time we’re done, I think they might be right.

SHANA

TWO MONTHS LATER

The chill of winter bites at my exposed ankles. I knew I should have gone with the fluffy socks and boots combo. Grumbling, I yank my leggings down over my goosebumps and whine.

“Lemon just had to convince me to wear the ankle booties, didn’t she?”

“You could have declined. Perhaps you like them more than you let on.” Dad winks at me, a teasing gleam in his eyes.

“Old fart.” I narrow mine in defense but drop it all with worry when he shivers.

“Are you sure you want to stay for the whole thing? I’ll go home with you if you’re uncomfortable.

” I check my phone, noting there’s still ten minutes before the talent show starts.

Dad wanted to be here for it, the new program Dev and Hunter started up, after what turned out to be a life-changing past few months for them, too. And I thought my situation was crazy.

But that is a story all in its own.

“He’s fine!” Lemon hushes me, scooting her butt in between us. “Pops over here has plenty of heat-warmers lining his jimmy-johns and so many prescription edibles that he has no idea how cold it is, do ya’, Mr. Holiday?”

“Lemon! You gave him gummies?”

“What? No! Never. He had edible…arrangements. The fruit sensation, of course!”

Jeremy snorts, covering his face with his scarf, and I scoff at Lemon, but it’s mostly for show. It’s Dad’s decision to be here. Whether I like it or not, he is done with all treatments and trials, unless it’s for pain or sleep.

His time has come, after years of fight, and he wants to go down surrounded by the people he loves, not beeping monitors or wires holding him down.

I eye him warily and water surges my eye sockets, but I’m not alone. Lemon squeezes my hand. Jeremy’s there with a smile. My baby kicks me from within.

I am not alone, and neither is Dad.

“It’s okay, babe. He’s happy,” Lemon assures me. “He’s involved. Let him have this.”

“You’re right.” I wipe a single tear from my cheek and smile at my father, squinting into his binoculars and searching the stage for Ellie and the other children he adores to see.

It’s been a few years since he was out of bed long enough for events like this, and my heart tenses knowing it may be the last.

My hand cradles my belly. She won’t ever know him, and that breaks my heart. But this is who he would have been for her. The grandfather who showed up. Who watched her dance.

“We’re telling the others today. Dev and Hunter…

all our friends,” I tell Dad. “But I’m glad that you were one of the first to know.

I’d have told you sooner if… well, you know.

” I sniffle, but his eyes still adorn me with praise.

There’s nothing like that look, the one your parents give you when you’ve made them proud.

I’ll treasure the memory of this very one.

Frame it in my heart.

And anytime I need it, there he’ll be.

“What will you name the child?” he asks, setting the binoculars on his lap.

“Well, you’ll be thrilled to know I convinced her to go with Randall for a boy,” Lemon teases, knowing I’m one hundred percent convinced it’s a girl.

I just know. I roll my eyes at the continuous coup she and Dustin have to drive me nuts over that, and she giggles.

“I’m getting popcorn, I’ll leave you two to your rambles. ”

“We’re naming her Rose,” I say, trying not to cry. But he knows, wrapping me in a hug as he does it first, water spilling into my hair from his soul as he kisses my head and gives me his blessing.

“I don’t reckon any other name would ever smell as sweet, would it?”

Tears flow down my cheeks, salty kisses from happy times. From kissed knees and first recitals. From driving lessons and college tours. For Shakespeare spoken in soft, subtle ramblings.

“I will miss you, Daddy.”

“ If I must die ,” he whispers, meeting my tear-streaked gaze, “I will encounter darkness as a bride and hug it in mine arms.”

“Measure for Measure,” Dustin says, squeezing my shoulder in support. It feels good, safe, and I lean into it, easing off my father and settling into the arms of a different man.

I don’t need him, no.

Because I’ve learned something about myself. I don’t need anyone.

I can be alone.

But it’s heartbreaking being the goddamned moon, isn’t it? Sometimes you have to let the darkness surround you. But I know now.

I want to touch the stars.

And I love that choice.

Dad leans back, eyeing us with satisfaction as we remain wrapped as one. “I always liked you, Campbell, you know that? Knew it back when you decked that Remington fellow centuries ago.”

“Centuries?” Dustin squints at me, smiling. “That’s where you get your little isms, huh?”

“Well, it ism from her mother.” Dad cackles, eyes crinkling and all.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dustin grins.

Dad winks. “ My love is thine to teach . I’m proud of what the two of you have become, my son. I’d tell you to take care of my daughter, but we both know she can do it herself.”

“Unless it’s cooking.” Dustin claps hands with Dad as they both agree.

“Hey!” I interject. “That’s not fair. I did really good with that second batch of pancakes, and you know good and well confectioners’ sugar looks exactly like flour, anyone would have made that mistake!”

“Mhm,” Dustin teases, flicking his lip ring, and I hate that I can’t tackle him in more ways than one for his teasing in public like this, but my body heats with something more, too.

Something sweet and addictive.

The brooding barista, whittling his days and the tortured ballerina, dancing in the night. Because that’s what we are, and life is sweeter when we’re together.

Something like sugar.

Something like us.

THE END