Late Nights & Love Lines (Single Dad Hotline #2)

1. Hello, again

1

HELLO, AGAIN

SEBASTIAN

“ M y fart smells like fish,” Kade squeals from his car seat in the back. My six-year-old has one speed—his. “I wanna fish. Can I, Daddy? Can I fish?”

Thank fuck I chose to drive from Boston to the Outer Banks overnight. I can’t imagine the kinds of questions or the number of bathroom breaks we would have had to make if all three of my children were awake for the majority of the drive. And that’s not even factoring in my grandfather.

My daughter groans and rolls down her window. “You can’t do that in the car, Kade. It’s gross.”

“I can’t help it, Ser. My butt likes to say wallop, wallop, toot.” He laughs. “Can I fish, Daddy?”

“I’m not sure,” I say steering the Range Rover over a gravel drive that’s seen better days. Boston’s potholes have their own zip codes, but this driveway is worse than outer space—one wrong turn and we’ll be lost to a black hole.

“These places are made for fishin’, kid.”

I give my grandfather some side-eye even as I laugh. Unwillingly. Despite the clusterfuck my life has become, he’s been the one constant in every uncertain time in my life.

A weathered sign for Shoreline Adventures sits in the gravel lot at an odd angle.

“We’re here,” I say quietly as I park in front of the office.

A sudden rush of nostalgia washes over me as I take in the well-groomed paths to the right of the main building. Old bunkhouses line one side of the trail. At least those appear to have received a fresh coat of paint.

Tilting my head toward my grandfather, I take in his expression, but he simply smiles at the view before him.

“You never would have allowed your camp to end up like this.”

When he finally faces me, his soft brown eyes twinkle with mischief and so many stories I can’t begin to fathom them all.

“Spaces are a lot like people, Seb,” he says gently.

“How so?” My brow furrows, so I smooth it out with my fingertips.

“They can both fall apart without a little love and care. This place will be good as new in no time though.”

“You sure about that?” I chuckle, and he nods his head.

“I am. That’s what we’re here for, right? A little love and care will go a long way for this camp—and for your family.”

Oof. His words pack a punch today.

Leaning forward, I scan the tall trees and inhale deeply. With Seren’s window down, the scent of the forest melds with the salty air of the ocean I know is down one of the paths ahead of me, and an ounce of tension uncoils in my shoulders.

At least until I glance at the faces of my children in the back seat.

Kade’s too young to truly understand why we’ve suddenly left Massachusetts—it’s a blessing and a curse, I suppose. Miles sits in the middle, his plastic smile a permanent fixture on his face these days. Seren’s stoic expression burns in my gut like acid.

She’s worn that impenetrable mask for months now. Gone is my shyly inquisitive girl with the soul of a musician. In her place sits a shell of a person holding a violent storm beneath her surface.

“Seren?” She lifts vacant green eyes to mine in the rearview mirror. “I hear they have an entire music room. There’s even a brand new piano and a huge selection of guitars.”

It only cost me a small fortune to get them all here before we arrived.

When Elijah, one of my new business partners, introduced me to his sister six months ago, I never could have envisioned we’d be on this path. Lottie Sinclair owns The Single Dad Hotline, a phone-based support team for single dads who are out of their element. But I was born to be a dad, so I never needed it—until now.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t be everything to everyone. I need help. I need a nanny, and now Lottie has the best service in the country. I have no idea how Elijah roped her into helping me, but I’m thankful since her waitlist is already over a year long.

Catching my wife fucking around with my ex-best friend slash soon-to-be ex-VP of sales at Walker Meridian during Seren’s middle school recital has turned our lives upside down.

My generally mild-mannered kids have been…acting out. Well, Seren has. We went through six nannies before I gave up and called in my grandfather.

Seren shrugs, then opens her door. “Thanks, Dad, but I told you.” She points to her forehead. “The music died.”

“It’s not dead, Ser. It’s sleeping,” Miles says, following her from the car. “Music can’t really die, it bends. Like a fishing pole. Right, Dad?”

I swear I must have swallowed razor blades—they slice my throat with each of my wife’s indiscretions.

If only I could agree with Miles. But I know the heartache of having the music stop, and when it does, the silence screams with the worst kind of pain.

“Music never dies,” my grandfather replies for me. “The chorus just changes is all. You’ll see, Seren. It lives in you, it’s a piece of you.”

She nods then slams her door. Her hair flies on the breeze as she heads toward the door marked ‘Office’ with a green hand-painted sign.

Closing my eyes and lowering my chin to my chest, I inhale deeply, listening to the noisy silence that happens in the forest—branches rustling, birds chirping, and if I strain, I swear the ocean waves whisper to me.

I hope I’ve made the right decision by bringing them here for the summer. Boston was slowly killing my little girl’s spirit, and in turn, killing me too. My ex-wife vanished immediately after the scandal, so she’s no help. Not that she was ever overly involved in their lives, but a girl needs her mom.

“Go get things settled in there. I’ve got the little fisherman,” my grandfather says softly, while I suck in air as though I’ve forgotten how to breathe. There’s an ache in my chest that’s been slowly gathering speed as a runaway ball of emotion threatens to decimate me. “And give her time. She’s got a lot to work through. I know you’re feeling all the guilt and fear of what’s to come, but she’s got something you never had growin’ up.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I keep my face lowered. I’m afraid to ask, but I do it anyway. “What’s that?”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, I lift my gaze.

“A father who will burn the world to the ground to give her a fresh start.”

I’ll do more than burn the world down, but I think he understands that.

“I thought I had another week to get everything ready,” Leo says from my left as we sit on the tired front porch of the office building.

I purchased the house from him and got the kids down here as quickly as possible. As the co-owner of Shoreline Adventures, he’s been working to get the camp ready for the season, and our arrival has probably thrown off his schedule. Somehow in all of this, I bought a house that shares Shoreline’s beach and became a silent partner in a kiddie camp.

That’s not something I ever thought I’d say, but Beck Hayes and Elijah Sinclair, the new partners in my actual business, are very convincing.

Beck said it behooved him to have me close. Who the hell says behooved anymore? But I get what he’s saying. When Covid shut down the world, our luxury businesses—mine in corporate leasing, and his a luxury brand—suffered. The best way for us to recover is by joining our ventures. Once we do, we’ll be an unstoppable team, one that will skyrocket us back to the top of the market.

But Beck seems to have trust issues, even worse than I do, so he wants us all to be in person to prevent any chance of our merger going public to our competitors before we’re ready.

I take a look around the property while Leo taps something into his phone. Everything about this place has seen better days, especially the stairs that creak with age every time I shift my weight. I’ve already explained that, as far as I’m concerned, this was a land deal and he can do whatever the hell he wants with the camp.

It helps that Leo’s a good guy. I met him at his baby shower, of all things, when I came to meet with Beck and Elijah during my divorce.

“Sorry about this,” I say for the fourth time, silently cursing the Sinclairs for not giving him the heads-up that I’d be arriving before the nanny event in a few weeks.

His laughter is easy and loud. “No worries. I’ve known Beck since we were kids, and he’s out of his damn mind with a new baby in his house. Don’t get me wrong, fatherhood suits him, but he’s a bit of a tyrant when it comes to their care, so if having you here early gets him to calm the fuck down, I’m all for it.”

The benefits of coming to North Carolina are twofold for me. It gets my kids out of Boston, away from the fallout over their mother’s behavior. It also gets me closer to Beck Hayes and Elijah Sinclair, two people who had the ability to demolish my entire professional career if they had chosen to. Something else I have to thank my ex-friend for. Nick tied up every single one of my properties in this deal. If it goes south, or if Beck pulls out, they’ll lose some money, yeah, but I’ll lose everything. I never should have trusted Nick so blindly.

The only good thing he did do was introduce me to Beck and Elijah. They could have so easily turned and walked away after the scandal with my ex-wife hit the press, but instead, they chose to stand by me and my family. I’m still coming to terms with that.

I open my mouth to respond to his comment about Beck when the men in question walk around the corner. But I’ve never seen them like this.

Beck is holding a paint can and is covered in yellow paint. Elijah has his hands full of what appears to be cleaning supplies.

Elijah approaches me first. “I met your boys down at the beach. Kade is rolling around in the tide pools pretending to be a shark.”

My chest expands with warmth. At least one of them is happy. “Sounds about right. He’s got a lot of energy, but he’s a good kid.”

Beck drops his paint can on the deck, then approaches us slowly with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed.

Strange. He’s always been a hard one to read, but his utter confidence has never been in question.

“The house is all set,” Beck says to no one in particular. “We cleared the trail from the house to camp last week so the kids can play at the beach or over here during the day doing…camp things.” He frowns as if the idea of a summer camp confounds him. “The crew will be here over the next week getting everything finished for the campers, but there’s enough to keep your kids entertained for now. Did Leo show you the house yet?”

“I’ve never met anyone who dropped four million on a beach house without ever stepping foot in it.” Leo chuckles.

“I’d have paid double if it meant getting my kids out of Boston,” I mutter without thinking, and my shoulders tense.

Leo simply pats me on the back. “I understand the need for do-overs, and I do appreciate the partnership. You taking that property off my hands while sharing the land is why I can get this camp up and running.”

I hadn’t intended to start another partnership in this small town, especially not one that makes me a silent owner of a children’s camp, but life, and my grandfather, have a funny way of making shit happen.

“I told you I would have bought in,” Beck grumbles.

Leo chuckles. “Now you don’t have to.”

Beck looks at me again. “Anyway, my wife was over at your place for all the furniture deliveries, but she vetoed your linens.”

Why would a woman I’ve never met have an opinion about my sheets and towels?

“Stella said they were too itchy,” he continues, “and the kids need something soft. She wanted their rooms to be welcoming or something. Listen, she was a kindergarten teacher in a former life. I just do what she says.” He tugs on the back of his neck as if he’s uncomfortable with this conversation.

“Thank you?” I appreciate the help, but everyone here—even the people, like Stella, I haven’t met yet—has gone above and beyond what I expected for a corporate deal. Making sure kids are comfortable is something you do for friends and family, not a new business partner.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce…and all that followed it,” he says.

And there it is. Pity. I school my features.

“The divorce was painless,” I lie. “We both come from money so the prenups were ironclad.”

“I doubt that, but I’ve lived through deceit,” Beck says gruffly. Now he has my attention. The scandals with his family have never been confirmed, but rumors always fly in our circle. “And I have girls at home who understand all too well how to survive. Kids shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of shit,” he says angrily. “I should tell you I’m not here to get into your personal business, but…well, it happens in small towns. Especially Sailport Bay, but also in this partnership of ours. Walker Meridian and Hayes Sinclair—Crystal Waters are now forever tied together, and we’re here to help with whatever you need.”

“Why?” Every other recent business transaction I’ve had has ended with a handshake or unsigned contract, thanks to Nick’s machinations. Beck is making this feel personal, pushing my fears to the forefront.

“Because professionally our success is now tied to yours, and personally, I know what it’s like to fight for your kids, your company, and an asshole trying to take it all away from you.”

Okay, so they’re not only my partners but the welcome wagon—got it.

Meridian Waters, the combining of two powerhouse companies, pushes the boundaries of luxury investments. That’s what the PR release will say, if I can get our investors back.

And once again, my mood takes a nosedive.

“Nick won’t be with my company much longer,” I say.

Beck’s brows raise. “I’d question your decision-making abilities if he were.”

Thank fuck he wasn’t the factor that sold them. My shoulders drop about three inches.

“Listen, Sebastian. Nick may have brought us this deal, but we agreed because of you—it was your name on that letterhead, your reputation we were interested in. But we need assurances that Nick isn’t going to fuck us,” Elijah says.

“You have my word.” It must be the nostalgia of summer camp that has me twisting my fingers behind my back as though I’m ten years old again, and I silently send up a prayer that I can follow through with this particular promise.

Elijah grins, and Beck holds out his hand. “Welcome to Sailport Bay, then. We’ll work out of my home office once you’ve got your kids settled. I’ve had personal experience with internal sabotage. I think it’s best if we keep the details on lockdown until we’ve closed the deal.”

I should be pissed that he believes I’ve lost control of my company, but I’d be just as careful if I were him.

Dropping our handshake, I say, “My CFO, Alexei Stepanov, will be my only contact on this deal.”

Beck’s jaw twitches, displaying his hesitancy.

“I’ve known Alexei since I was in diapers. If anything were to happen to me, he’ll be my children’s guardian, so when I say I trust him with my life, believe it.”

Something similar to respect sparks in Beck’s eyes.

“Understood,” he says.

The rumble of a sputtering engine cuts the silence, and we all watch as dust kicks up behind a beat-up light blue Jeep blasting music my daughter would love.

“She does like to make an entrance.” Elijah chuckles.

“Who?” I ask.

The Jeep lurches to a stop, and a plume of smoke billows from the hood.

I don’t move as the driver’s door opens and tiny pink Chuck Taylors hit the ground followed by long, tanned legs that disappear into denim cutoff shorts as she bends over, out of view, and my body pitches forward as if her actions are tied directly to my reactions.

When she stands up to scan her surroundings, familiarity knocks the air from my lungs. A sudden surge of sweat trickles down my forehead, while my chest expands and falls as though I’ve lost the ability to take a full breath at the sight of dirty blond hair whipping in the wind.

Then she smiles with a shrug and a wave in my general direction, and it drowns me in her orbit.

Peach .

My life just went from messy as hell to fucking imploding in the span of a smile.