“Mom’s home and there’s a man with her.” Adie’s voice floated back to them.
The volume on the television went down. In came Keagan, his thin shoulders slouched forward, his too-long hair in his eyes.
She reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. He jerked away. He was staring at Bray.
“Thanks for watching Adie,” Summer said. “This is Bray Hollister. We...we were in school together.”
Bray stepped forward, extended his hand. It took Keagan a second, but he stuck his arm out.
“Nice to meet you, Keagan. I understand you like football.”
Keagan didn’t answer. He turned to his mother. “I thought you were going to the church for vases.”
“I...did. Remember, it’s Chase Hollister who is getting married. Well, Bray is Chase’s older brother. He’s home for the wedding.”
“Dad stopped by,” Keagan said.
“When?” she asked quickly.
“Right after you left.”
Thank goodness. She’d hoped he hadn’t come by after the incident at the church. “I saw him. He stopped by the church.”
“He seemed upset about something.”
He had seemed more volatile than usual. A simple conversation about switching the weekend the kids would be at his house had gone south so fast that she still wasn’t sure what had set him off. He hadn’t looked good, either. There had been dark circles under his pale blue eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well for some time.
Maybe trouble at work. Gossip had been swirling recently about a fight between Gary and a newly hired officer named Daniel Stone. Nobody seemed to have the details, and neither Gary nor Daniel was talking about it. Probably at the direction of Chief Poole. He was probably embarrassed that his small department was a topic of conversation.
But she’d officially given up making excuses for Gary’s behavior when she’d signed the divorce paperwork. Never ran him down in front of the kids, but didn’t try to build him up to be father of the year, either. “You don’t need to worry about your dad,” she said. “Did you do your homework?”
He gave her the you’re so stupid look. “We don’t have school until next Monday.”
That was right. Tomorrow was the day before Thanksgiving, and the kids were getting a nice long holiday. “Well, you can watch a little more television. Just keep the volume down,” she suggested.
Keagan looked between her and Bray. “What are you going to be doing?”
The bad mother in her so wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. Since starting high school three months earlier, Keagan had got progressively more distant, rarely volunteering any conversation and definitely not interested in anything Summer was doing.
But she was the adult. Supposedly smarter, more mature. “I’m going to have a little conversation with Mr. Hollister and then I’m going to fix dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she said.
He took the hint and shuffled out of the kitchen. The small space got quiet again. She got busy making a small pot of coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bray grab a paper towel off the roll and wipe up the spilled milk on the floor. He found the garbage under her sink.
“Thanks,” she said. She scooted around the dirty dishes on the counter. She still missed having a dishwasher, but the house had been perfect in so many other ways for the three of them that she hadn’t quibbled over small things. It was in a safe neighborhood and she could afford it. Those were the important things.
When the coffee was done, she poured cups for both her and Bray and carried them over to the kitchen table, where Bray had taken a seat. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.
“Black. Like always,” he said.
Some things never changed, but some things had changed so much there was no going back. She took a sip too soon and burned her tongue. Still, for lack of anything better to do, she took another one. Finally, she set her cup down. “So, how was your flight?” she asked.
He took a sip of his own coffee. “It’s been a long time, Summer. You really want to talk about my travel?”
Hell, no. But everything else was fraught with danger. One wrong step and it could blow up. But yet there were things that needed to be said. She gathered her courage. “I’m not sure there’s much to be gained from going over old ground, but...” She took a breath. “But if I hurt you, I’m sorry.”
He stared at the coffee in his cup. “If you hurt me?” he repeated softly. “If?”
He wasn’t going to let this be easy. She understood. She deserved this. “When,” she corrected. “When I hurt you.”
He looked up. “I guess I’d really just like to know what happened.”
“You left,” she said.
“I enlisted. We had discussed it. You said you would wait.”
She had intended to. And she had wanted to. Then things had happened. But nothing she could tell Bray about. Nothing she could ever tell anyone about. “I met someone,” she said. It was the story she’d stuck to for fifteen years.
“Gary Blake.”
She nodded.
“He’s a real prize,” Bray said, his tone bitter.
Gary hadn’t always been this way. In the beginning, he’d been...fine. Attentive. Hardworking. And she’d thought it would be enough. “Bray, did you ever marry?” she asked tentatively.
“Nope.”
The silence in the room stretched out. Finally, Bray shifted in his chair. “At the church, you said that Gary had never beaten your kids. There was something you didn’t say.”
“What’s that?”
“That he’d never beaten you.”
She was so weary. So damn tired of protecting everybody else’s interests. “He didn’t. And I would not have thought him capable of it. But about two months ago, we got into an argument because he was supposed to pay some fees for Keagan’s sports. But he was really late and the coach had told me that he was going to have to suspend Keagan. Gary got really mad and pushed me down. And...and then he kicked me. My back got pretty bruised up.”
She saw a wave of emotion cross his handsome face. “Kicked you like a stray dog,” he said, his tone bitingly sharp.
She put her hand out. Touched him. His skin was so warm. “It’s over,” she said.
“Did you report it to the police?”
“He is the police.”
“He’s got to have a boss.”
She shrugged. “I made a decision. I did what was best for me and my family.”
“By what happened today, I don’t think he’s turned over a new leaf. The next time he might really hurt you. What are you going to tell your children when you’ve got a broken jaw and a busted eye socket?”
The image made her sick. “That’s not going to happen,” she said.
“Maybe somebody needs to make sure of that,” he said.
She stood up. “Don’t you even think about getting involved, Bray Hollister. You can’t waltz back in here and...and mess things up.”
“Mess things up? Honey, I thought that was your department.”
She would not cry. She would not. “My children are hungry,”