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“Issues. That’s a nice way to put it.”
“Hey, I’m not pointing any fingers. I have five siblings and there’re plenty of stories, believe me.”
“Five. That’s...incredible. Your parents must have been saints or crazy. Ryan is enough challenge for me.”
She laughed. “A bit of both, I think.” She stared into her tea. Her voice broke. “I keep thinking I should be over the grief by now.”
The silence stretched. “I don’t know if it ever goes away.”
The pain in his eyes reminded her of his wife. What had she been thinking? What was wrong with her? She needed to shake this funk. “I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his. “I didn’t mean to remind you—”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“You get used to it, really?” His skin was warm under her palm. It felt good to touch him, too good. She pulled her hand away and he let her, though he watched her movements.
Their gazes met. His eyes were a bright, rich blue, a contrast to his dark hair. What was he thinking? About his wife? About his son? About the book that he’d yet to open? About her?
“I really should get home.” She stood and hastily gathered her things. “Tomorrow’s an early day.”
“Yeah. I should get going, too. Early class, as well.”
“Class?”
He shoved the still-unopened book into the backpack. “I teach at the university.”
“I didn’t realize I was with a fellow educator.” She liked knowing she had that connection with him. “What subject?”
“History. Military history, specifically.”
“Really?” Why did that surprise her? Then she remembered the book he’d been reading. “So, the book—” she tilted her head toward the backpack “—that’s for class?”
He shouldered the pack. “I don’t know yet. Maybe later. Right now, it’s...personal.”
They headed toward the door, and she expected him to turn in the opposite direction. Instead, he fell into step beside her. “Do you live this way?”
“Uh, yeah.” He stopped and, with a self-deprecating smile, gestured for her to precede him down the walk. “I guess we’re headed the same way. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No. I—” What were the odds? It was a small community, one of the carefully planned midcentury communities. Both from small towns, her parents had specifically chosen to live and raise their family here for that reason.
“What made you decide to move here?” she asked before she had time to think and stop herself.
“Actually, it was Ryan’s idea.” He walked on the outside of the sidewalk and didn’t speak again until they’d reached the corner. “After Carolyn’s death, both of us needed a change. We wanted out of Chicago.”
“Is that where you were raised?”
“Yeah.” This time he tilted his head and looked at her, smiling. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Occupational hazard. Sorry.” She felt her cheeks warm again. “You don’t have to answer.”
“No, it’s no problem. Yeah, I grew up in Chicago. We lived in an apartment on Lake Shore Drive.”
“Not in a house?” Why did that seem so strange to her? She thought of the big house where she’d lived with her family, and the big ranch where Wyatt now lived that had belonged to her grandparents. An apartment would have been so strange.
“Dad was gone most of the time.” He said that through clenched teeth. “So, Mom was a single parent in reality. It was just me and my sister. An apartment made more sense.” He shrugged again, and his eyes grew distant.
What was he seeing inside his mind? She wanted to ask, but refrained from uttering another question.
The sun was setting, and the shadows reached out. At the next corner, they both turned left. “Go ahead. I know you want to ask.”
This time she laughed. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Yes, and no. Remember, I’m a teacher, too. It’s in our nature to see the ones who want to ask but won’t.”
“True. Okay, so why was your dad gone so much? What did he do?”
“I’m not totally sure.” He kept walking for a good half a block. “He was career military, and even after his official retirement, he still contracts with them.”
“That must have been rough.”
“We weren’t used to him being around.” He shrugged. “When he came home, it was worse than when he was gone.” Again, he looked at the horizon—watching the clouds? Or his memories?
“I’d have loved to have more time with my dad,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. Tonight wasn’t very upbeat.” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He lifted the shoulder that had the backpack on it. “I think this book is influencing my mood.”
They’d reached her house, and she paused at the end of her walk, just outside the white picket fence that had attracted her to the house in the first place. “This is it.” She waved at the house, then faced him. “It was a lovely evening. Really.” She meant it. He seemed honest and sincere. She liked that. She hadn’t found those qualities in many of the men she’d met in the past few years. “Thank you for sharing with me.” She paused, then grinned at him. “And for walking me home. I don’t think anyone’s done that since I was, like, fourteen.”
He laughed, a deep, heavy sound that warmed her from the inside out. “And I’ll bet your dad, or one of those brothers, stood at the door making sure nothing went on, too.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “My brother Wyatt.”
“You’re welcome.” He stood there, not moving for a long minute. Finally, he stepped back. “I’m just a couple blocks over. Have a great night, Addie.”
“You, too.” She wanted to say more. Wanted to know a whole lot more about him. The silence stretched out, awkward all of a sudden, full of expectation, until he resumed walking.
She watched until he reached the corner. He turned to wave before making that last turn. He was heading toward the street Mom used to live on. She couldn’t remember which of the houses, other than Mom’s, had been for sale recently. Of course, she hadn’t gone over there much.
Maybe that needed to change.
* * *
HIS HOUSE WAS dark when Marcus finally reached it. He’d have rather gone into Addie’s house, where he saw a light, inviting and warm, just inside that big front window. He made a mental note to leave a light on next time.
Next time? Next time he went to the coffee shop in the evening, he told himself. Nothing more than that.
Her house was similar to this one—the hazards of a planned development. Somehow, though, he liked it. For an instant, he pictured her. Moving around, locking the doors, checking the windows, closing everything up for the night.
Did she have a dog or a cat that’d run to greet her? Or was her house silent, like this one?
Shaking his head, he tried to cast thoughts of Addie out of his mind, but it wasn’t easy. Her comments, gestures and expressions were too strong. Despite his attraction to her, he couldn’t be interested in a relationship with anyone. Not now. Maybe never.
He had enough to worry about. Walking through the big house, he headed to the kitchen. He’d thought to grab a sandwich at the coffee shop, but hadn’t felt hungry. Nothing had looked good, so he’d settled for just the coffee. Now, surprisingly, he was hungry.
Tossing his backpack onto the kitchen table—covered with dozens of books—he headed to the counter. He hadn’t expected this room to become his makeshift office, but something about it drew him, made him feel comfortable.
A jar of peanut butter sat on the counter, right next to the bread—where Ryan always left it. Smiling, Marcus made himself a sandwich. Biting into the thick peanut-buttery goo, he grinned. Ryan had no clue what he was talking about. Peanut butter did not taste like crap without jelly.
It tasted just right.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u8b75dc5e-5d60-5802-9914-eee9436e0f88)
WHEN RYAN VOLUNTEERED him to chaperone the eighth-grade, year-end dance, Marcus knew exactly what his son was up to. Ryan had noticed—and commented on—the wave he’d sent Principal Hawkins that day he’d picked the boys up after school. Ryan had read way too much into a simple gesture.
Now he was determined to put Marcus in close proximity to his pretty school principal.
Which was why Marcus hadn’t mentioned meeting her at the coffee shop the other night. Though he had to admit, Addie was definitely eye-catching, and talking with her had been challenging and interesting.
But mostly, she’d made him laugh. Something he couldn’t remember doing in ages. She’d popped into his thoughts so many times since then.
But he’d found, and lost, the love of his life. He wasn’t going to find anyone else like Carolyn, and he’d worked hard the past couple years to reconcile himself to that.
The problem wasn’t his. It was Ryan’s. The boy was determined that Marcus would not spend his life alone, and put considerable effort into finding someone to replace his mother.
Somehow, that made Marcus sad.
Carolyn might not have been Ryan’s biological mother, but she’d loved him, wanted him and created a life that had been everything they could hope for. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that it hadn’t lasted.
Marcus forced himself to focus on the room around him instead of on the world that had been. If his son was any example, a room full of thirteen-year-olds could get into plenty of trouble.
Even with half a dozen chaperones around.
“So, how did he con you into doing this?” The woman’s voice came from behind him. Since the music wasn’t nearly as loud as at the dances when he was a kid, he could actually hear her. Marcus looked over his shoulder to find Addie standing there, a plastic cup of punch in one hand, the other hand shoving the riot of blond curls behind one ear.
Maybe she was the one controlling the volume of the music. He heard the half-dozen metal bracelets clatter as they fell along the length of her forearm.
“He said it was mandatory.”
She laughed. “We do push for each parent to do their turn, but we don’t use that word.”
“Apparently, my son does.” He stared into his own cup of overly sweet punch.
“We’ll work on that.” She moved beside him. “Look at the positive side. You’ve done your turn once this is over.” She smiled, and her face transformed, softened, sweetened.
He smiled back, unable to resist her infectious optimism. “How do you do this every day?”
“Do what? We only have two dances a year.”
He laughed. “No. Do this.” He pointed at the room. “Survive all this teenage energy. Just being around Ryan wears me out. You deal with it most of your day.”
“I guess I’m used to it. Being the principal gives me less student contact than when I was a teacher.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes.” She glanced toward the center of the gym floor. A grand total of two couples were dancing. “This is my first year as a principal, so it’s all new. I’m learning.”
New challenges. He understood that. He tried to find his son’s familiar blond head in the crowd. He’d been over by the basketball backboard with Dex, the neighbor kid who’d become Ryan’s new best friend. And while Ryan thought Dex was the next best thing, Marcus wasn’t convinced.
His concern must have shown on his face. “Don’t worry.” She leaned toward him. “We have a dozen parents here tonight. They can’t get into too much trouble.”
“Have you met my son?” Marcus looked at her askance. “He doesn’t need five seconds to find trouble.”
She laughed. “I’d say that’s pretty normal for his age. He’s a very inquisitive kid.”
“That’s for sure. From the minute he could talk he was asking questions.” He saw Ryan and Dex appear out of the crowd, chasing each other and laughing.
The silence between Marcus and Addie wasn’t quiet, but it was comfortable. They stood there through the length of a couple of songs, listening, watching, waiting. For what, he didn’t have a clue.
“Did you ever get around to reading your book?” she asked.
“Book?” Then he remembered the coffee shop. “No, I haven’t had time.” Nor the inclination. He was still waiting for his parents to appear on his doorstep as his sister had predicted.
A man came over shortly after the song ended, his smile too wide. “Hello, Addie.” The man stepped in too close to her. “How are you?”
“Hello, Mr. Wilson. How’s Bethany doing tonight?” Addie leaned around the man to observe the kids, despite the man’s attempts to dominate her attention.
“She’s having a good time. So glad you still have these types of activities for the kids. Keeps them off the streets and out of trouble.”
“We do what we can.”
Marcus watched, noting her forced smile and the way she leaned away from the guy. She didn’t like him, but she did a fairly good job of hiding that fact. The man stepped closer, and if it weren’t for the table directly behind them, she’d have probably stepped away. She was trapped, and the realization flashed in her eyes.
“Hello, I’m Marcus Skylar.” Marcus moved closer as well, sticking his hand out as a barrier between her and the other man. He actually looked surprised to see Marcus there. Addie looked relieved, and Marcus pushed Wilson to interact with him.
“And you are?”
The stranger looked perturbed, but shook Marcus’s hand. “Jack Wilson.” He stepped back, and Addie seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Excuse me.” She stepped away, granting Marcus a faint, thankful smile before she headed toward a couple of boys who seemed to be heading toward the door.
“Which kid is yours?” Marcus asked.
“My daughter’s over there.” Jack pointed toward a group of girls huddled along the bleachers, ignoring everyone around them. “The pretty one on the end.”
Marcus wasn’t sure which girl he meant. There were half a dozen of them, and all of them were dolled up. A sense of dread hit him. Thankfully, Ryan was still oblivious to girls. A reprieve...for a while at least.
But someday, and probably soon, Ryan was going to notice.
* * *
