“Oh?” She wanted to ask why, but figured not only wasn’t it her business, but the last thing she needed was to form a connection with someone when it would inevitably fail. Since moving to Ruin Bayou just after Christmas, Brynn had done a good job of keeping to herself. Selling Mack’s Escalade had given her enough cash to buy a less expensive SUV, and not have to get a job right away. But with that money dwindling, she couldn’t hide forever.
Maybe not forever, her wounded heart cried, but at least until she had her baby.
After ten minutes walking in silence, he said, “I grew up around here and only knew one Langtoine. My mom said Mack’s widow was back with their little boy. You her?”
“Yep.” So much for hiding.
Chapter Two
Last thing Tristan wanted was to get in Brynn’s business. He knew all too well what it was like to be caught in a situation bigger than he could handle. That said, he’d considered Mack a friend, and had been shocked and saddened by the allegations lodged against him.
The muck they sloshed through sucked at the soles of his boots, making travel arduous. Most women he’d encountered would’ve bitched a blue streak over being caught in this kind of mess, but Brynn trekked on without complaint.
“Go ahead,” she said with a defensive tone, “ask away about my husband. Everyone else does.” She stopped, tilting her head back, giving her long curls a shake before arranging them into a messy ponytail with a band she’d had on her wrist.
“Well?” Tristan probed. “Did he do it?”
“Which of his transgressions in particular? Gambling ring—check. Game fixing, partnership in an underground casino—check, check.” She started walking.
Tristan whistled.
“That about sums it up.”
And here I thought I’d had it bad. Sidestepping a log, he said, “Hang to the left just a bit.”
She set a quicker pace than he’d expected from a woman in her condition as she asked, “What’s your story?”
“Complicated.” And it still stung plenty bad. But he didn’t discuss his past even with his mom, let alone a stranger. “Mack was a great guy. I can’t imagine him—”
“You don’t have to imagine it. I lived it.” Her snippy voice had returned with a vengeance—not that he could blame her for being cranky.
“Back in school, Mack never even cheated on tests.”
“And you did?” They kept an even pace and the look she cast his way wasn’t exactly complimentary.
“Maybe once or twice in a pinch. Who didn’t?”
“Me.” He didn’t appreciate her high-and-mighty tone. “And just think what that says about your moral character.”
“Give me a break. I was thirteen.”
Having reached a small creek, she said, “I don’t remember crossing this before. Check your navigation thingy and make sure we’re still going the right way.”
“Seriously?” He shook his head. “I’m not the one needing to be rescued. And as for cheating, now that I think about it, I only did it once—on my Algebra midterm. But for the record, I felt so bad about it I went home and learned the work inside and out. Plus, the kid I copied off of made a lousy grade, so I didn’t even reap any benefits.” Lord, listen to him—rambling like a guilty third-grader. Why? What was it about Brynn that made him even care what she thought?
* * *
“MOMMY!” TEARS CAUGHT IN Brynn’s throat when Cayden ran across the field to meet her, crushing her in a hug. Only two hours had passed since she’d last seen him, but it felt like a lifetime. “I was so scared.”
“I know, baby.” She kissed the top of his head. “Me, too.”
“Coach Jason said I was really brave, and if I practice I might be able to play later in the summer with the team.”
“That’s awesome.” Still holding her son, she looked to the man she also knew was the town police chief. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. Tristan, you, too.”
The man she’d spent a large portion of her evening with merely nodded.
The chief’s truck radio squawked, then a dispatcher called him. “Looks like I’m needed down at the Suds & Swirl, but, Cayden, no more running off when things get rough, okay?”
In the truck light’s glare, her little boy nodded.
“Promise?”
“Yeah,” Cayden said with a solemn nod.
“All right, then.” After a quick ruffle of Cayden’s hair, Jason said, “Tristan, you got this handled?”
“You know it.”
“Y’all have a good night, then.”
Brynn thanked him again for his help finding her son, waving him on his way.
When Cayden climbed into their SUV’s passenger side, she found herself once more on her own with Tristan. Immersed in darkness tempered only by the faint light of the moon, she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, let alone her galloping pulse. She owed him so much, and wanted to express her gratitude, but she was broken, and couldn’t find words to match the emotion swelling in her heart. “What you did—and the coach—helping Cayden and I...” Rather than meet his intense dark gaze she looked to her clasped hands. “Well, I appreciate your help. I haven’t had a lot of folks on my side lately, and—” Her voice cracked and that chink in her carefully constructed armor proved her undoing.
“Hey...” He approached her, but held a respectful distance.
She softly cried, covering her face with her hands. “What’s wrong with me? Tonight could’ve turned out so bad, but for once, luck shone on me. I’ve been so strong, keeping everything in.”
“Know the feeling,” he said. “The stuff I went through with my ex-wife...” Jaw clenched, he shook his head. “Hell, I’ve been shot and had it hurt less.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been shot.” She managed a smile through her tears. “But my husband was, so I have known pain. The gambling and game-fixing were humiliating, but seeing Mack killed...” Her voice had turned raspy with grief.
“Mom!” Cayden popped his head out the open car window. “I’m hungry!”
“Duty calls.” Brynn smiled and genuinely felt it. Which made her sad for having earlier been snarky and standoffish. Tristan seemed like a great guy. She needed to remember that not every man was as despicable as her ex.
* * *
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”
Tristan tried sneaking into his mom’s house, but as he’d feared, the second the screen door creaked open, she was up from what she called her comfy crafting chair and paused the living room TV on one of her favorite shows.
In the kitchen, Donna grabbed two beers. He expected her to hand him one, but she kept them both for herself. “You’ve worried me to drink.”
“Sorry.” He rummaged through the fridge for his own adult beverage. “After tryouts, one of the boys who didn’t make it ran off into Lee Bayou. Jason tracked him, and I went after his mother.”
“Oh?” Always on the hunt for a future daughter-in-law, her eyebrows shot up. “Anyone I know?”
He popped the top on his beer, taking a