Dara placed a hand on Eli’s arm. “Walk me home?” Eli didn’t look up as Dara led him from the bakery.
Her heart ached for him, truly ached for him. She knew how hard it was, growing up without a mother. If she’d been the cause of that... No, surely not. Hunter was a man of his word. He’d married Amy—he wouldn’t have let it fall apart without a fight.
“What is all the yelling about?” Her father hobbled into the kitchen through the door that connected their home to the bakery. “I could hear you all the way in my room.”
Josie watched Eli and Dara walk away. She saw the slump to Eli’s shoulders, knew the anger and pain in his voice.
“How the hell did you not know he’s single?” Fisher asked, stunned.
“What are we talking about?” her father asked.
“Hunter.” Fisher reached around the counter for another gingerbread cookie.
“Oh.” Her father sounded far too pleased, so she looked at him. “What?”
“What?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say?” Hunter Boone is single.
Her father’s smile disappeared. “You told me if I ever mentioned him you’d never talk to me again. Guess I figured the more time the two of you spent together, you’d figure things out.”
“Seriously, Josie?” Fisher shook his head, then ate another cookie.
“Every time I brought him up, you changed the subject. I got the point,” her father continued.
“That was a long time ago.” He hadn’t mentioned Hunter or the rest of his family in years. Because she’d told him not to. Josie grabbed the plate and shoved it into a cabinet out of Fisher’s reach. “I was young and hurt—”
“You’re my baby girl. And I listened to you,” her father interrupted. “I figured someday you’d find out that he was here, waiting for you.”
Josie glared at her father. “Daddy, I know you love Hunter. But that’s ancient history—”
“Maybe for you.” Fisher’s eyebrows went up.
Her father’s voice was cautious. “Now, Fisher—”
Fisher leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “Ask me how many dates my brother’s been on since Amy left.”
She didn’t want to know, did she? No. She didn’t.
“Let’s give her some time to get used to things, Fisher.” Her father chuckled. “Her whole world just got flipped upside down.”
She lied quickly, to herself and the two of them. “Nothing has changed. Nothing. I’m here to take care of you, Dad, not relive some teenage romance.” She yanked the apron over her head and threw it on the back counter.
“Josie,” Fisher groaned. “Come on now.”
She held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She paused. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I just hurt a boy that I’d never in a million years want to hurt. So, please, just stop.”
Her father exchanged a quick look with Fisher before he sighed. “It’s closing time, anyway.”
“I’ll lock up,” Josie offered, looking pointedly at Fisher.
Fisher took the hint. “Eli will be all right. You okay?”
She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.
Fisher left and Josie locked the door behind him. She took her father’s arm, leading him back into the house.
“Should I have told you, Josie?” her father asked.
“No, Dad.” She patted his hand. There was no way to go back. Thinking about what could have been, what might have happened, was pointless. “It doesn’t matter. Now go sit, and I’ll get you some water. Maybe a snack?”
Her father nodded, moving slowly to his recliner in the other room. She headed into the kitchen, grappling with too many emotions to understand. But a part of her—a part deeply buried inside—felt relief. He wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t a liar. He had loved her. Maybe he still—
“Josie, bring the car around,” her father yelled. “We gotta get Sprinkles to the hospital.”
* * *
HUNTER’S CELL SCREEN lit up. Amy. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.
Tripod, the black three-legged cat that roamed the hospital, glared at the phone from his napping spot on the corner of Hunter’s desk.
Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling.”
Tripod yawned, stood and stretched, then curled back up in a ball on the desk. Hunter stroked the cat’s silky side, letting the animal’s reverberating purr calm him before answering the phone.
“How’s the sexiest man in the world?” Amy’s drawl was light, teasing. “Wearing your tight jeans and your jump-me doctor coat?”
He’d learned not to bite to her teasing. “How are you, Amy?” He clicked the end of his pen a few more times.
“All business this morning? Guess it’s hard to talk dirty at the office.” She sighed. “I’d be better if I was there with Eli. And you.”
“You coming through town?” He kept clicking the pen.
“I’m trying. You know I want to be there.” She sighed again. “I’d never miss Christmas with my baby if I could help it.” She paused, but he kept quiet. “But I’ve got a chance to ride in Vegas through New Year’s. Big show, you know?”
Amy spent more time with the cowboys on the rodeo circuit than riding in it, but all he said was, “I’ll let you tell Eli.”
She made that noise, that irritated, impatient sound she made when she wasn’t getting her way. He remembered that noise all too well.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Hunter Boone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”
“I know.” He tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the white insulation tiles of the ceiling.
“Good. You don’t know how hard it is, to live without the perfect parents and buckets of money just sitting around their big ol’ fancy house.” Her voice was shaking. “A gal’s gotta eat, Hunter.”
There it was. “How much do you need?”
“I don’t need a handout,” she snapped.
“You’re Eli’s mom, his family. It’s not a handout. It’s family taking care of family.”
The phone was silent for a long time. “You don’t miss me at all? Us?”
He didn’t say, “No, Amy. I don’t. I won’t. Stop messing with our son and grow up.” He’d learned not to have any expectations when it came to Amy—then there was no disappointment. But Eli was a boy—a boy wanting to believe the very best about his mother. Even if a lot of it wasn’t true. And now his mother was missing Christmas with him...again.
It tore his heart out to see his boy hurting. He was used to buying a present and putting Amy’s name on it, but he resented having to cover for her. It shouldn’t be his job to maintain a relationship between his ex-wife and his son.
“Dr. Boone.” Jason, one of his students, came running into his office. “Larry ate Hanna’s hair scrunchie again.”
“Hold on a sec, Amy?” He covered his phone. “Is Larry breathing okay?”
“Yes, sir. But he’s coughing a little.”
Hunter sat back, ran a hand over his face.