The one thing she’s been missing in life?

The last time Addie Hawkins loved a man, it ended tragically. Years later she’s doing fine, even managing to ignore the hole in her heart—mostly. But things start to unravel when widower Marcus Skylar and his teenage son, Ryan, move into her old childhood home.

Being around them forces Addie to face past decisions while also bringing her a sense of healing she never thought possible. Yet even if Addie is ready to give love another chance, can she convince Marcus that family is worth the risk of letting go of his pain and opening his heart again?

ANGEL SMITS shares a big yellow house, complete with gingerbread and a porch swing, in Colorado with her husband, daughter and Maggie, their border collie mix. Winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Her social work background inspires her characters while improv writing allows her to torture them. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

Also By Angel Smits

A Chair at the Hawkins Table

Last Chance at the Someday Café

The Ballerina’s Stand

The Marine Finds His Family

A Family for Tyler

Seeking Shelter

A Message for Julia

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Addie Gets Her Man

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08472-7

ADDIE GETS HER MAN

© 2018 Angel Smits

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

“What about you? Ever been in love? Married? Almost married?”

Something changed with that question, and as soon as Marcus looked in Addie’s eyes, he regretted asking. She’d been happy, enjoying sharing her life with him. But now there were shutters in her eyes that fell just as he got a glimpse of the pain.

“Once upon a time,” she whispered. “I believed in the fairy tale for me.” She fell silent. He didn’t ask anything more; he didn’t want to twist the knife that she obviously felt.

They’d reached the white picket fence surrounding her yard. He almost asked how a girl who lived in a house with a white picket fence could live in it alone, but he didn’t.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she hastily said and pushed the gate open, just as hastily closing it between them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” This time she rushed into the house, not looking back, not even to wave goodbye.

Why did he feel so disappointed?

Dear Reader,

The hardest part of writing any book, for me, is the ending. I want to make sure I get it right so you, and I, feel the satisfaction of the happy ending that is romance.

But each book’s ending is also a moment to say goodbye to characters I’ve lived with, intimately, for months. In the case of my A Chair at the Hawkins Table series, for years.

Addie Hawkins has been with me since page one, since the Hawkins siblings first lost their mother and gathered around that dining room table to remember her. The joy I feel at finally giving her the happy ending she deserves makes saying goodbye easier. I hope you love Marcus as much as Addie and I do, and enjoy the final chapter of the series.

In this case, however, it’s more than a goodbye to these characters. It’s the last of the Superromance line. This has been my literary home for over ten years and eight books. And as a reader, for many years before that.

I have to thank so many people. The editors for letting me finish this series. That means so much to me. My fellow authors, who have given me friendship and guidance. And mostly all of you Superromance readers, who bought, read and love my stories and characters as much, if not more, than I do.

I’ll never forget any of you, and I hope our paths cross again. Please visit my website at angelsmits.com for the latest developments in the next stage of my writing journey. I’ll look for you there—and on the bookshelves of the future.

Angel Smits

The entire A Chair at the Hawkins Table series has been about siblings. And I’m lucky to have two very special ones of my own.

This is dedicated to Jeff Strong and April Wilkerson. I love you both, and am so glad you’re a part of my life. Thank you.

And to Ron. You always believe.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

ADDIE HAWKINS STOOD next to her car, letting the remaining heat of the day wash over her. The Someday Café’s parking lot was nearly full, and from here, she could see the lobby was overflowing. Standing room only. Hopefully, they weren’t violating any fire code.

Addie was so proud of Tara. Her little sister had grown into a competent, beautiful young woman. Tara’s diner had nearly been destroyed in last month’s flooding. But she’d survived; she’d rebuilt, and tonight was the grand reopening.

Taking a deep breath, Addie turned to grab the baker’s box from the backseat of her car. Her special chocolate chip peanut butter cookies were nestled inside. It was a peace offering as well as a grand opening—uh, reopening—gift.

Tara had asked for the recipe, but Addie hadn’t been ready to share it then. She still wasn’t. This was a compromise.

“Please tell me that box is for me.” Her brother DJ’s voice came from behind her.

“Not a chance.” She smiled and almost took pity on him when she turned to face him and saw his smile fade. “These are Tara’s. You might be able to sweet-talk her out of one.”

“One?” He grimaced. “That’s lame.”

They walked toward the entrance together. “Where’s Tammie?” Her sister-in-law was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, and she hadn’t had an easy time of it.

“She’s already inside. Tyler—” He grinned as he mentioned his son. “He was ready to come over around noon, so we compromised. They were here about an hour ago.” His grin was indulgent and satisfied. The man was head over heels in love with his wife, with his whole family, and Addie was pleased to see it. They’d been through a lot to be together. DJ hadn’t even known about Tyler until he was eight, and once they’d found each other, a madman had nearly stolen everything. But here they were now, happy and their family expanding.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Doc says she’s right on schedule.” Was that a sweat breaking out on his brow? It was no secret that this whole having-a-baby thing was freaking out the former marine. Addie bit back a smile. The day they’d found out it was going to be a little girl, he’d nearly passed out in the doctor’s office. Tammie and Tyler still loved sharing that tidbit of information with everyone.

DJ hurried ahead and opened the door. Voices, the sound of clattering dishes and the delicious aroma of Tara’s cooking flowed over them. “Do you see Tara?” she yelled over the din.

DJ was taller than most everyone in the room, but he shook his head. “Wyatt and Emily are in the back corner. At the big table. Should be a little quieter over there,” he yelled and led the way through the crowd. Addie gripped the box, praying she wouldn’t drop it.

Getting through the room was a challenge. Everyone knew Wyatt and, of course, Tara, so by association the rest of the family were part of the community, as well. “Hi, Addie,” “Hi, DJ,” rang out half a dozen times.

As she moved, Addie glanced around. Everything looked great, just like it had before the flooding, before the raging river had torn through, destroying most of Tara’s hard work. Thankfully, they’d managed to save all the furniture.

Tara had purchased several old wooden tables when she’d first bought the worn-out diner. The big three-leaf dining table where Wyatt was seated looked newly cleaned and polished. The mismatched chairs that sat at those tables looked just like Mom’s after six kids had gotten through with them. It was a wonderful eclectic mess, just as Tara had planned.

A wave of homesickness washed over her, but Addie swallowed it and kept walking.

As usual, she took stock of who was here. Her older brother, Wyatt, called it her mother-hen mode. Just then, as if catching her in the act, he shot her a wink. Like always, he sat at the head of the big table while the others talked and ate.

Tammie looked great considering she was within days of delivering the newest Hawkins to the world. Wyatt’s wife, Emily, was beside her, and next to her sat Mandy, her other sister, holding little Lucas on her lap. His tiny hand smacked the wooden tabletop, eliciting a giggle from his pudgy cheeks. Hard to believe he was nearly a year old.

Even Jason and Lauren were here. She’d known they were flying through on their way home from Lauren’s European tour. She wondered if it just so happened that the ballet tour ended the same time as the grand reopening, or if they’d worked something out with her management company. Considering Jason was Tara’s attorney, anything was possible. Either way, it was great to have them home.

Tyler sat at the other end of the table, imitating his father’s gestures as he explained something quite intense to the little girl in the next chair. He was definitely ruling the roost. The boy had brought so much life to the entire Hawkins family when he’d come into it last year.

Addie watched the little girl for a long moment. This must be Brooke. Addie moved cautiously toward her. Morgan, Tara’s...what the heck did you call a man dating your sister who was six foot two with body-builder muscles and a tough exterior? Boyfriend seemed too tame.

This was Morgan’s daughter. Tara had said the girl was a bit skittish around strangers. Tyler seemed to be doing well with her, so Addie didn’t want to upset either of them.

“Addie!” Wyatt called when she reached the table. “I can take that box for you.” The twinkle in his eye told her he knew exactly what was inside.

She laughed and swatted him, winking at DJ. “I might have brought you some of your own, so leave those for Tara’s customers.”

“Oh, yeah, score.” He and DJ high-fived, and Addie let the warmth of their enjoyment wash over her. Everyone in the family loved her cookies, and she didn’t dare come to a family function without a batch—or two.

The fact that Tara wanted to sell them in her diner only made Addie’s heart swell. These cookies were still the one contribution she made to this ever-growing family. It was her gift to them, what held her place in their hearts.

With all the new spouses and children, Addie often felt like an outsider in this big family. She missed their needing her.

She’d been so young when Dad died. Mom had fallen apart, and it had taken months for her to get back on her feet. As the oldest, Addie and Wyatt had taken on the job of caring for all the littler ones. She’d become more mother than sister, and she’d never really been able to go back.

Finally reaching the table, she set the big box down. As soon as she found Tara, she would pass the cookies off to her—at least now, she wouldn’t drop them.

It might be quieter here in the corner, but it still didn’t allow for much conversation. Just then, Wyatt caught her eye and waggled his eyebrows while he tilted his head to his right.

There was a reason she never got picked first to play charades. “What?” she mouthed to him, not sure what he was doing. He did the whole contortion thing again, and she shrugged, confused.

Someone tapped her arm, and Addie turned to see the little girl, Brooke, standing beside her. She crooked her finger for Addie to bend down.

“He’s talking about the lady with the ring,” she said.

“What lady with the ring?” She looked to where Wyatt sat next to his wife, and frowned. Of course Emily had a ring. And Tammie had her hand resting on her belly. Her ring shone in the light. It’d be impossible to forget her and DJ’s big country wedding last year.

Mandy sat next to her, holding Lucas on her shoulder, patting his back as he snuggled close, sleepy-eyed now. Her hand moved—and sparkled.

“Oh...oh!” Addie rushed around the table, having to shove only a couple of people out of the way. Without thinking, or hesitating, she took hold of Mandy’s hand and pulled it toward her. “When did Lane change his mind?”

Mandy laughed. “He never changed his mind. Turns out he just wanted to wait until he could do it right.”

“Did he do it right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mandy grinned, and if it wouldn’t have disturbed Lucas, Addie would have pulled her little sister into a big hug.

“I want details as soon as we’re someplace I can hear them all.”

Mandy nodded and resumed patting Lucas’s back. Her ring winked so brightly, Addie wondered how she’d missed it. Wyatt gave her a thumbs-up across the table.

Like proud parents, she and Wyatt shared this moment. Addie knew he was thinking the same thing she was. That it would be so nice if Mom were here.

Before she got maudlin, she looked toward the serving counter. Tara was here—somewhere. A giant white banner that read Grand Reopening hung over the doors to the kitchen.

The swinging café doors had been a serviceable silver color before the flood, but had taken on some damage. Tara had told Addie she’d had to paint them. The vivid pink was perfect, glinting in the light as Tara poked her head out.

“Wish me luck,” Addie called to no one in particular as she grabbed the baker’s box and headed toward the kitchen. After wading through the crowd again, she finally reached the doors and, well past formalities, pushed them open with her shoulders. Some of the crowd’s noise was muffled back here.

She froze. Tara was definitely busy—with the help, it seemed. Morgan had her wrapped in his arms, and Tara was returning his kiss with everything she had. Addie blushed, then cleared her throat as loudly as she could.

Tara pulled away, her cheeks flushed. “I was just helping Morgan with his—uh—apron.” She finished tying the white strings around the big man’s waist.

Morgan laughed and reached for the coffee carafes on the burner nearby. “Gotta earn my keep,” he said as he turned through the doors with a familiar swagger.

“Thanks,” Tara called after him.

“I’m not asking what the thanks was for,” Addie teased and set the box on the prep counter. “Here’s a double batch of cookies.” She said it as nonchalantly as she could.

“Oh, Addie. Thank you.” Tara stopped what she was doing and gave Addie a hug. “You’re the best.”

“Order up,” Earl, the short-order cook, called through the pass-through, pulling Tara back to work.

“I know you’re busy. We’ll talk soon. Promise.” Addie left the kitchen before she distracted her sister any more.

Customers were slowly trickling out, contented smiles on their faces, as the waitresses seated another wave. Addie knew the staff, as well as their harried expressions. Staying out of their way, she headed to her family’s table.

“Addie?” She didn’t quite recognize the woman’s voice that called out to her. Addie looked around until she found the sheriff, Dutch Ferguson, and his wife, Elizabeth, seated at a table a row away. Elizabeth waved.

Addie shivered as she looked at them. She couldn’t ignore the older couple, and to be honest, she loved them dearly. But so much came with them. Memories. Shadows. Pain.

Elizabeth had never recovered from that long-ago night. Even now, in this boisterous, laughter-filled restaurant, a sad aura surrounded her. Addie gave the woman a hug, and felt the thin bones of her shoulders. “Hello, Elizabeth. Dutch.”

Addie felt an obligation to them. They’d almost been her family, after all. Their son—Cal’s image came painfully to mind—had been their only child, and her first love. He’d been so young. So handsome. So long ago. She swallowed the pain that threatened to choke her. Almost didn’t count, except in horseshoes and hand grenades, her daddy used to say.

Addie looked at Dutch, and while his smile was broad, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Uh-oh. She made a mental note to stop by their house before she returned to Austin to make sure they didn’t need anything.

“It’s good to see you, Addie.” Dutch gave her a brief hug. “Can you join us?”

“Sure, for just a minute. How are you doing?” As she sat, she aimed the question at Dutch, knowing he’d be the one to answer. Elizabeth seldom spoke. The last couple of times Addie had visited with her, she’d noticed changes. Subtle, but probably more obvious to her since she wasn’t around Elizabeth all the time.

She recalled Dutch’s words from that day. “She’s slipping further and further away.”

“We’re doing fine,” he answered, smiling at Elizabeth. “Aren’t we, hon?”

“Yes. Yes. So nice to get out.”

“Tara’s done a fine job with this place.” Dutch smiled. A big, gruff man, he was exactly what Addie had expected of a small-town sheriff. He’d lived his entire life in Haskins Corners, and he was as much a staple here as this diner.

“Yeah, things were a little uncertain there for a while. The floodwaters were pretty wicked.”

“Water’s evil,” Elizabeth whispered, a venom in her voice that Addie understood. She looked at Dutch. He frowned, and the brief shake of his head told her not to follow that line of conversation. Addie was more than happy to leave it.

“Looks like everyone’s here.” Dutch nodded toward the big table in back. “Lots of change in the Hawkins clan.”

“Yeah.” Addie glanced over her shoulder at the overflowing table of her siblings, then laughed. “And then some. The family is growing so quickly.” She hated the wistfulness in her voice. Addie chose not to analyze that too much. “I’d better get back.”

“Come visit when you can,” he offered.

Elizabeth looked up from her meal and smiled. “Yes. Come visit.”

“I will. I promise.” She gave them each a hug, holding on to Dutch just a bit longer, as if maybe he could use a little encouragement. Being Elizabeth’s husband couldn’t always be easy. But he obviously loved her. He patted Addie’s hand that rested on his shoulder in silent thanks.

Addie glanced at Elizabeth and saw so much of Cal in her. Same color hair—except now Elizabeth’s dark hair was going gray. Same eyes. Same jawline.

Sometimes it hurt to look at Elizabeth.

Right now, Addie didn’t want to remember. Even the good times they’d shared hurt. There weren’t ever going to be any more. Thankfully, time had dulled the edge of that knife, and she could bear the hurt. Almost.

Suddenly, a strong arm slipped around her shoulders, and she yelped. Wyatt’s familiar hug surprised her. “Stop fretting, Ad,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m not—fretting.” She frowned at him.

“Yeah, you are.” He gave her a brief kiss on top of her head. “But we love you for it.” He guided her to the table, where the waitresses had brought several plates of appetizers. Addie grabbed a potato skin that should taste amazing. It tasted like dust. She didn’t have enough energy left to enjoy the flavor.

Dutch and Elizabeth got up from their table, and Addie watched as he guided his wife to the register. While he paid the bill, Elizabeth looked around, confused, then finally took Dutch’s arm. Relief covered her face as he guided her outside.

“Addie.” Wyatt stared across the table at her. Just as he recognized her mother-hen mode, she recognized his dad mode. They’d spent way too much time taking care of their younger siblings.

She closed her eyes for an instant. “I’m fine, Wyatt,” she said, opening her eyes again and meeting his concerned gaze.

“I saw the way you were looking at the Fergusons. I know you’ve kept up with them over the years.” He paused, and she dreaded what he’d say next. “It wasn’t your fault, Ad.” The last she didn’t really hear, but rather, she saw the words form on his lips.

She shook her head. “I know.” She hadn’t even been there when...when the accident had happened. She’d tried for years to second-guess what might have happened if she had been there.

Wyatt leaned back in the wooden chair and considered her. She almost wanted to stand up and walk away. Instead, she smiled. It wasn’t as if everyone hadn’t done just that, at least once, over the years.

“Look—” She leaned forward and put her hand on his. His skin was so rough and calloused from working with the horses. She rubbed her fingertips over those hard-earned scars. “I care about them. I care about all of you.” She waved at the table full of the Hawkins clan.

“You’re done, sis,” he said softly. “It’s time you looked after you. You helped raise everyone. Lord knows you were the main caregiver for Mom up until the end. And I know you’d take on Elizabeth Ferguson out of some weird sense of obligation to Cal.” He shook his head. “But I’m telling you not to. Let Dutch handle it. You need to have your own life.” He leaned back, with the look of decision on his face that told her he considered the situation settled.

“Really?” She frowned and looked at Emily. “Did my brother actually say all that?” He wasn’t known for being a big talker.

“Yes. And he’s right,” Emily said.

“Now you’re ganging up on me?”

“No, we’re not.” Emily squeezed Addie’s hand. “Everyone’s grown now. You’ve earned the chance to build your own life.”

Addie stared at them. They didn’t understand, and she didn’t have a clue how to explain it. She’d never focused on herself, not since—not since Dad died. She’d grown up on that day, and she’d gladly taken on the role of nurturer.

The idea of giving that up made her panic as she looked at the faces around her. She’d helped them get here. She was proud of that, proud of all of them.

Her eyes stung. Everything was slipping away. What was she supposed to do now? She needed to be needed, needed someone to care for—to watch over, to want her attentions.

But her family didn’t need that from her anymore. And yes, Dutch could handle Elizabeth.

She’d had a chance at her own life, had dreamed of her own family, once upon a time. But fate hadn’t been on her side, and she’d lost that chance forever.

* * *

MARCUS SKYLAR RUSHED across the street, knowing full well that he was jaywalking and only slightly caring. He was late for class, and considering he’d given his students a lecture on timeliness last class, he didn’t dare show up late. They’d never let him off the hook for that one.

Campus was still alive with activity even this late in the day. He was running down the stairs in Richardson Hall, his wingtips slapping against the steps, when his phone rang. He tried to ignore the incessant noise, but he recognized that ringtone. It was Ryan. His thirteen-year-old son wasn’t someone he could afford to ignore. Not without Carolyn’s help to intervene.

He let the memory of her waft through only briefly. “Hello, kiddo. What’s up?” He shouldered the phone as he shoved open the hall door.

“We’re out of jelly.”

“Uh, okay. I’m in class for the next hour. We’ll discuss it later.”

“Peanut better tastes like crap without jelly.”

“Watch the language.” He tried to keep his surprise out of his voice. The boy was definitely changing lately. He’d have to deal with that at some point. “I’ll be home in a couple hours. I gotta go.” He hung up and stepped into the classroom.

Most of the seats were full, which gave him a sense of gratification. Many of his colleagues complained about the number of empty seats in their classes.

Marcus wasn’t sure if his class in military history was full because of the political climate and social awareness, or for some other reason. It didn’t matter. He’d take it. “All right, everyone.” He set his briefcase on the desk. “Let’s get started.”

“That was a close call, Prof,” Mitch, one of his most challenging students, said from the third row.

“Yeah, but it’s not because of my procrastination,” he pointed out to the young man who usually fell into that camp. “Teach my thirteen-year-old how to go grocery shopping, and maybe we’ll discuss your grade.”

The class laughed, and Marcus launched into today’s lecture. It was on one of his favorite subjects, and he had to be careful not to get lost in his rambling. Vietnam was a black mark on this country’s history, and still a tough topic to sell in some circles. He’d been hired specifically to share his knowledge on the collision of the government’s promises and society’s demands.

A collision intimately familiar to Marcus, as his father had been caught up in it. A nightmare Colonel Skylar still wore on his highly decorated chest.

Finally, the hands on the utilitarian clock hit the end of the hour, and Marcus wrapped up the lecture. He was putting his notes in the briefcase when a young woman came up to the desk. “Professor Skylar?”

“Yes, uh, Natalie, right?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “I have a question about our paper.”

“The final project?” He emphasized the difference. There were many things besides papers that they could choose to do. Papers were the easiest for most students. They were used to doing them. He let his hopes rise that she was asking for permission to do something else.

“Yeah. I was wondering.” She looked down at the desktop. “Uh, I don’t think I’m very good at this history stuff.”

“Why not?” He didn’t want to come off sounding condescending, but he didn’t see why she couldn’t do it.

“It’s hard.” She finally looked up. “I was thinking about my topic last night. I was, um, hoping I could do something on fashion.”

He stared at her. “Fashion?” He slowly closed his briefcase. “Fashion of what? The era or of—” he tried to choose his words carefully “—Vietnam during the war?” Was there such a thing? “The 1960s themselves?” There were a lot of options.

She didn’t look at him. Her topic intrigued him, mainly because he hadn’t heard this one before. “Okay, explain what you’re thinking.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Both.” She finally looked up, excitement sparking in her eyes.

What the heck? Wasn’t that his goal—to inspire these kids to at least pay attention?

“Fashion is a social statement. In the 1960s, it was a huge statement. And Vietnam had its own society. I want to compare that with what we had.”

Marcus looked at her, attempting to ascertain if she was trying to pull something over on him. He wasn’t new to this teaching gig, just new to this college. “I’ll give you some leeway. Since the topic’s a bit different, I want to meet with you halfway through to make sure you’re on track.”

“Oh, thank you, Professor.” She rushed forward and tried to give him a hug. Marcus knew better and hastily put up his hand.

“Whoa! Just do a good job. That’s thanks enough.”

“Okay. You won’t regret this, I promise,” she repeated, then hurried out of the classroom. Marcus paused, taking a deep breath before slowly walking toward the door himself.

Everything was so different here, and while Natalie was part of the strangeness of this new world, she was a small part of it. He told himself he would adjust, he would figure it out.

Nothing was even remotely similar to the world in which he’d expected to live out his life. Carolyn’s death—He froze, the memories slamming into him. No, he wouldn’t let the hurt cripple him again. He’d fought too hard to escape the grief. He forced his feet to keep moving.

The job he’d loved, had thought he’d gain tenure with, had vanished too quickly when he’d fallen apart. He’d nearly lost Ryan, the thirteen-year-old waiting at home for jelly to make his peanut butter taste less like crap.

This move, this new position, had to work, had to save him and what was left of his world. It had to. What the hell? He’d read and grade anything—even a paper on the fashion of 1960s Vietnam—and give the student a fair grade, if it meant keeping his son, and giving Ryan the life he needed and deserved.

CHAPTER TWO

MONDAY MORNING CAME way too soon. Why, again, had she taken this job? Addie sat at the principal’s desk that, six months ago, she’d thought was the epitome of the best career move she’d ever made.

Teaching had always fulfilled her. After Mom’s funeral last year, though, she’d needed something to fill up the emptiness inside her. She knew some of it had to do with losing her mom, but not all of it. Not really.

So, she’d thrown herself into pursuing her long-held plan to become a school principal.

Now, after spending hours staring at budgets and accounting columns—that still didn’t balance—she was rethinking everything.

Frustrated, she returned her focus to the papers in front of her. Somewhere, the calculations were off, and she had to figure out where. Maybe she should take it down to the eighth-grade math class...see if they could solve it?

Or she could go to the teachers’ lounge and get a nice cup of tea. Caffeine sounded lovely right about now. She stood. Maybe a break would help.

Lindy Dawson sat at the break room table working on lesson plans. Addie smiled. She and Lindy had started teaching here the same year. Their friendship was one of the best parts of this job.

“Hey, Ad.” The petite brunette leaned back and put down her pen. She rolled her shoulders. “What’s on your exciting schedule today?”

“The usual.” Addie sighed. “I can’t get this month’s budget numbers to balance.”

Lindy had been the one person who hadn’t supported Addie’s job change. In all honesty, she missed the day-to-day contact with the kids, and Lindy had known that would happen.

“You having second thoughts? About the job, I mean.”

“No. Just—” Addie sighed. “I don’t know. Something seems off.”

“Here?” Lindy tilted her head toward the hall. “Or at home?” She grinned at Addie, a shit-eating grin if Addie ever saw one. “You did go out to the ranch this weekend—to the land where everyone falls in loooove, right?” Her voice went a bit singsongy.

“Cut it out.” The slightly annoying detail that all of Addie’s siblings—younger siblings, all five of them—were married or seriously involved with someone wasn’t lost on her. She chose to ignore the fact that she hadn’t gone on a date in months.

“What?” Lindy laughed. “Got anything you’d like to share?” She waggled her eyebrows, teasing. “Any juicy details of some wild weekend?”

“Funny.” If Addie didn’t know Lindy so well, if they hadn’t shared nearly every deep, dark secret over ice cream and wine, she might be upset with Lindy’s nosiness. She knew it was well-intentioned. Lindy was as close to her as Addie had ever been with either of her sisters. “No, nothing to share.” Even Addie heard the disappointment in her voice.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Lindy closed her notebook, and gathered up her things. “Give yourself a break. It’s budgets. Nobody dies.”

“Are you sure?” Addie flopped down on the couch. “We could all freeze to death if the heating bill isn’t paid, you know.”

“Nah, I’ll just make everyone run around the building to warm up. Besides, we live in Texas, remember? Warm most of the time.” Addie groaned as Lindy stood and shouldered her backpack. “One more swim practice before regionals.” Lindy laughed as she headed toward the door. As the gym teacher and swim coach, Lindy always finished her day with swim class.

“Do you ever get tired of it? Want to change to another subject or something?” Addie asked.

“Nope.” Lindy opened the door. “Watching teens in an environment where they can’t posture and primp gives me hope for the human race.” She laughed.

“You’re sadistic.”

Lindy just grinned back. “I know. Admit it—it’s what you love about me.”

Addie knew her friend also loved when she could teach kids the skills to save themselves. The rest was just a cover for the soft heart that resided inside.

Suddenly, loud voices came from the hallway. “What’s that?” Lindy asked as she peered into the hall. Addie wasn’t far behind. Jess Martin, the biology teacher, came out of the science lab the same time they stepped into the hall.

A crowd stood near the lockers. Raised voices bounced off the walls. There was obviously something going on. As Addie and the teachers got closer, kids on the outside of the circle stepped aside and away. They knew trouble was coming.

“Hey,” Lindy called, wading through the group. Jess followed. He was taller and bigger than either of them, which might give him an advantage to see what was going on. By the time Addie reached the center of the crowd, Lindy had pulled one boy back and Jess had hold of another.

The first boy had a bloody nose—the second would have a pretty good shiner tomorrow morning.

“Everyone back to class,” Jess instructed. After the kids all groaned a bit, they trudged away, discussing the fight.

“You two.” Addie pointed from one boy to the other. “My office. We’ll call your parents. Lindy, get the first-aid kit.” They didn’t have a school nurse. They shared one for the entire district, but she was really here only when they were giving out vaccinations or holding a special event. Most crises were handled by the administration, or the teachers.

Lindy was better at first aid than the rest of them, since gym class tended to be the place everyone got hurt.

The taller of the two boys, the one Jess had by the arm, just snickered and shrugged. She recognized him—Nick Haldon. He’d been in her office before, a couple of times. She remembered his parents, as well. The Haldons were decent people, but the father seemed absent in the boy’s life. Meeting with the pair was never a pleasant experience.

The other boy was smaller, but not by much. He didn’t have the perpetual smirk on his face. If nothing else, he looked a bit shocked, perhaps scared. Was he afraid of her? Of getting in trouble? Of his parents? She looked at him for a minute, knowing she’d have the answer soon enough.

She led the way to the office, with Lindy bringing up the rear, and seated the boys far away from each other in the reception area. The receptionist, Gina, was there to make sure they didn’t take off. Lindy took care of the bloody nose the best she could, but there was no getting the blood out of the boys’ shirts.

Addie groaned. Visible evidence—blood, specifically—set parents off, with good reason, but that would only make it worse. Probably for them all.

Once the bandages and ice packs were in place, Lindy put the first-aid kit away, and Jess headed to his class, leaving Addie to deal with the two boys. She stood looking at them for a long minute.

She’d start with Nick. At least with him, she knew what to expect. “You—” she pointed at the new boy “—stay here until I call you. Nick, come with me.” She headed into her office.

Seated, she looked across her desk at Nick. If he’d been in her office multiple times already, how many times had he been here with her predecessor?

His shoulders were hunched, and he held an ice pack to the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t broken. Lindy had assured her of that. But Addie had to admit, the new kid—she really needed to figure out his name and use it—had a pretty good left hook. She wondered where he’d learned that.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Nick wasn’t going to answer, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

“No.” His voice was muffled by the ice pack.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to come clean. But I understand that you might be in too much pain to talk clearly.” She really needed to work on her penchant for sarcasm. She blamed her brothers and their own various busted lips and noses for it. “If so, you can sit in the outer office and wait until your parents get here.”

She walked him to the separating door and had him sit, then turned to face the other boy. He had his own blue ice pack shoved against his right eye. Nick could slug pretty good himself. “Come with me,” she told the other boy.

She didn’t wait for him any more than she’d waited for Nick. She sat while he got comfortable.

“You want to tell me what you were fighting about?” She tried to keep her voice even and her face neutral.

“No.”

“You know, someone’s going to tell me what happened.” She wouldn’t even have to use the good cop/bad cop routine, though Lindy would be disappointed. She loved playing the bad cop.

“Nick won’t tell.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about Nick. I’ve dealt with his type plenty. No, the other kids who were standing around watching. They’ll eventually tell me.”

He looked at her, his eye wide as if that had never occurred to him. How had he gotten to eighth grade and not realized his fellow students were not always to be trusted?

There was definitely something about the boy that intrigued Addie, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. “What’s your name?” she asked softly. Since he was a newcomer to the school, she didn’t have a clue what to expect from this boy, unlike Nick.

“Ryan.” He didn’t say anything more, and she waited for a long minute.

“Do you have a last name?”

“Yeah.” Another long silence, and in the one eye she could see, she saw his thoughts. She was pretty sure he was actually considering lying to her.

“Lying’s a bad idea, just so you know.”

“Uh... Skylar.”

“Thank you, Ryan.” She leaned back, knowing that Gina was even now pulling his file to get his parents’ phone numbers. Addie pondered how to approach him.

Westbrook Middle School wasn’t huge. When Addie had been growing up, she’d gone to school here. Back then, attendance had nearly overflowed halls. Now, with an aging population in the area, and the new system of charter schools and choices that weren’t around when Mom was raising them, the headcount was lower.

There weren’t many new kids each year, so Ryan Skylar was notable in a sea of the same faces each year. Something about him interested her, and maybe it was because she’d spent way too much time staring at budgets.

She tried again. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He shrugged. “Do I have to?”

She fought back a smile. “You don’t have to, but it might make things better for you. Ms. Hanson is calling your parents, and I’d like to be able to tell them you were cooperating with me.”

He shrugged, and that single uncovered eye looked at her. If she’d ever seen pain, it was in that one brown eye. It jolted her. So strong. And almost familiar. She shook her head and sat forward again, crossing her arms on top of the budget papers. “You know, I grew up with three brothers. And a couple sisters. There’s not much you’re going to get past me.”

He looked down, studiously examining his tennis shoes. She waited for him to look up again.

“I’m an only kid,” he said softly.

“There are times I would have liked to be that.” Flashes of all the craziness in her family flitted through her mind. “Does that have something to do with the fight?”

He shrugged again, but still didn’t look at her. “Bet your house wasn’t quiet.”

“Uh, no.” She laughed. “Not very often anyway.” She gave him a couple of minutes, but she needed to find out what happened. “We’re calling your parents—”

“You gotta call my dad,” he interrupted.

“Okay. Is there a reason?”

“Mom.” The boy took a deep breath. “Mom passed away...”

Well, she’d muddled into that one. “I’m sorry.” Addie felt the knife in her chest for the boy, and from her own recent loss of her mother. That’s what she’d seen in his gaze. Grief. It resonated with her. She knew how much it hurt. Faded memories of her father, and the resulting emptiness, were still too real.

“Then we’ll call your dad.” She cleared her throat, not sure what was stuck there. “What do you think he’ll say about your getting into a fight?”

The boy looked down at those tennis shoes again. “He’s not gonna like it.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

He seemed to think about that a minute. “Probably cut down my computer time.” The sadness in the boy’s voice expanded to fill the room. She fought a smile. At least now she knew what was important to him, and she felt another stirring of curiosity.

Gina stood in the doorway and Addie looked up. “Yes?”

“His father’s on the way. Nick’s parents aren’t answering.”

So, what else was new? She really didn’t want to deal with the Haldons, but there were some things about her job that were unavoidable.

“Unless you’ve got something to tell me, you can take a seat in the lobby until your dad’s here.”

The boy hesitated but finally stood. She had to admire him. He might not like Nick, but he wasn’t going to rat on him. She watched him walk out and slump down on the chair—farthest from Nick.

She pulled the budget papers together and sorted them. She wasn’t going to make any more progress for now. Even if she did, parents would only show up and disrupt her. She didn’t know how long it would take for them to get here.

She glanced at the clock. Another hour and the day would be done. Hopefully, Gina could reach the Haldons before it was time for the boys to head home. She couldn’t let them go before speaking to their parents, and she didn’t want to stay any later than she had to.

“Addie?” Gina said from the door. She had the cordless receiver in her hand and a smirk on her face. “Mrs. Haldon is in Atlanta at a conference. Mr. Haldon is at work. They’re looking for him.”

“So, who are you talking to?”

“The housekeeper. She wants to know if she should come get Nick.”

“Housekeeper?” Addie stared. “No. His father needs to come get him.”

“I’ll let her know.” Gina left, and for some strange reason, Addie found herself feeling sad for both boys. Neither of them had the support they needed, that they should have.

Just then, a man Addie had never seen before came rushing in. He wore neatly pressed dress pants and a blue button-down shirt. His thick chestnut hair looked awry, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Repeatedly. “Ryan?” He headed straight for the boy.

He knelt down, uncaring that he could get dirt on those nice pants. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the boy said softly, pulling the ice pack from his eye. The man turned an angry glare on the other boy, and Addie saw Nick actually shrink away. The man didn’t say anything, which had Addie breathing a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was an outraged parent taking matters into his own hands.

She walked to the door and stood waiting for a gap in the softly spoken conversation. “Mr. Skylar,” she finally said. “Won’t you come in?”

* * *

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” The tall, dark-haired man paced in front of Addie’s desk. “Ryan has never been a problem. He’s never gotten into trouble.”

Addie watched Marcus Skylar shove his fingers through his thick hair again.

“He’s never gotten into a fight.”

Addie made herself focus. “From what he’s told me, he has been through a lot.” Her heart still ached for the boy. “He’s had a lot to adjust to.”

“I guess.” Marcus suddenly sat on one of the chairs facing her. “It’s been one hell of a year,” he whispered. “I’m not making excuses.”

“I think we need to give Ryan a break.” She leaned forward, trying to look like she was in charge here. She knew what she was doing, but this man set her on edge and she didn’t know why. “Have you considered counseling?”

She expected him to get angry. Half-expected the man who was very near the edge himself to rise up and rail at her. Instead, he silently looked at her, then leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpeting. “I have. And we did. For a bit.”

He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. Nothing like her brothers, who would have already blasted her about psychobabble and being able to take care of themselves. She waited while he sat there, staring, seeing something he wasn’t sharing with her.

“Mr. Skylar, our school has a no-tolerance policy. I have to give Ryan, both boys actually, a week’s detention for fighting.

Marcus sat silent for a long moment. When he finally looked up at her again, his gaze was clear. “I understand. He’ll be there.” He waited a moment before shooting to his feet. “Guess, I’ll...” His voice faded, and he turned toward the door. Now he looked more like she expected. “Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

Pausing in the doorway, he curled his fingers around the knob until his knuckles showed white against his tanned skin. “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hawkins.” He pulled the door open and, through the opening, she saw Ryan look up at his dad. “Come on, Ry,” she heard him say. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

She stared after him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t yelling at his son, like so many other fathers would be doing. He actually looked...she tried to find the right description...beaten?

What battle was he waging? Against his son? Against himself, and his own grief? He’d lost his wife the same time Ryan had lost his mother. “Mr. Skylar?” She hurried around the desk, stopping in the open doorway just as he turned to look at her.

“Yes?”

“Is...” What was she thinking? What was she even doing? “Is there anything I can do to help? You...or...” She looked at Ryan. “You, Ryan?”

“Thank you.” Marcus straightened his already impressive shoulders. “But we’ll be fine. Come on, Ryan.”

With his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, he headed out the door, and she heard their footsteps echo down the empty hall. It was a lonely, nearly painful sound. She’d have to keep an eye on them. On Ryan, she reminded herself. She was a principal. The father was not her concern, unless his actions affected the boy.

Then all bets were off.

* * *

MARCUS DIDN’T LET go of Ryan’s shoulder until they reached the car. The boy was silent as he threw his backpack in the rear and slammed his backside into the passenger seat. He pouted, crossing his thin arms over his equally thin chest. Only once he was settled behind the wheel did Marcus speak.

“You want to explain what happened?”

He didn’t yell at Ryan, though he wanted to. His own father would have already blistered his ears with accusations and curses, but Marcus knew how it felt to be the boy who’d made a mistake he couldn’t take back.

“No.”

“Well, here’s the deal.” Marcus started the car and steered out of the parking lot. “You can either tell me what happened, and I’ll figure out what your punishment will be from that. Or you can remain silent, and I’ll go with what the principal and the other boy say.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Marcus clenched his jaw. He would not lose his patience. “That’s not the issue, son. The issue is whether you’re going to be the one in control, or if you’re going to let someone else have that honor.”

The silence in the car was thick with the hot afternoon air and a teenage boy’s simmering anger. “I didn’t start it,” he finally said, quietly staring out the side window.

“I didn’t think you did. Tell me what happened.” He tried to use the voice that had worked so well for Carolyn in coaxing their son into opening up. Times like this he really missed her. Missed the mother she’d become the day they’d adopted Ryan.

“We were having a discussion in lit class.” Silence grew.

Lit class? What book was he reading in that class? Marcus shook his head. It didn’t matter. Ryan did.

“Nick said—” Ryan’s voice cracked. “Nick said my real mom didn’t like me and that’s why she gave me away.” His broken voice faded to a whisper before he finished.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN MARCUS HAD been Ryan’s age, his father had come home on one of his infrequent leaves from who knew where. James Skylar had offered to help a buddy fix his deck and had subsequently volunteered Marcus to join them. Somewhere in the process, something went wrong. Marcus couldn’t remember much since he’d gotten a concussion from a wooden beam that fell on his head.

He felt like that now, sitting next to Ryan at the stoplight.

“Care—” He cleared his throat. “Care to explain?” They’d never hidden Ryan’s adoption, but they’d gotten him when he was three days old. It had been a closed adoption. His birth mother had wanted it that way, and they’d respected her wishes. The reality of the situation seldom crossed his mind anymore. Apparently, it did Ryan’s.

With Carolyn’s death, he probably should have expected this. But he hadn’t even thought about it.

“We’re reading some short stories for lit class,” Ryan said, breaking into Marcus’s thoughts. “Mr. Hudson has us discuss them. One is about a bunch of kids in an orphanage.” Ryan shrugged and turned his gaze from the passenger window to stare out the windshield. “Nick made a crack about kids whose birth parents gave them away—said their mom and dad didn’t like them.”

Marcus took a deep breath. “You know that’s ridiculous, right? We’ve talked about this before, remember?”

“I remember. I know it’s not true. It’s just—” Ryan went silent for a couple of blocks, and Marcus didn’t push him. “It’s just that...” He shifted in his seat. “I wasn’t mad for me so much...”

Ryan turned to look at Marcus. They pulled into the drive, and Marcus killed the engine.

“I was mad for...for my birth mother,” Ryan said. “He had no right. He doesn’t know why she gave me up.” His indignation came across loud and clear.

Marcus took another deep breath before saying anything. “I’m proud of you for wanting to stick up for her, for caring, but it’s not something to fight about.”

“I know.” Ryan reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “But what he said was so wrong.” He slammed the door closed with a bit too much force.

Marcus followed him, grabbing his own backpack from the rear. He watched Ryan walk inside. His son was growing up so fast, and their conversation brought back memories of when they’d first brought Ryan home. Good memories.

Had that really been thirteen years ago?

Inside the kitchen, both backpacks hit the kitchen table with a loud thud, and Marcus watched Ryan head to the fridge. It was a routine Carolyn never would have allowed, but one they’d fallen into since moving here.

Carolyn. He thought of his wife, and, while his heart still hitched at her loss, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. He thought about his conversation with Principal Hawkins—

—who wasn’t anything like he’d expected from a school principal. She was young and pretty—the first woman to pique his interest in a long time. And while she hadn’t smiled much during their meeting, he got the impression she normally did.

He’d told her that they’d gone to counseling, and they had. Not just after Carolyn’s death, but for months before. Hospice had been a godsend as he’d tried to deal with her impending death, as well as Ryan and his reactions.

“Can I have the rest of the lasagna?” Ryan’s muffled voice came from inside the fridge.

“For dinner?”

“No, now. For a snack.” He turned around, the take-out container in his hands, his expression hopeful.

“Uh, no. I’ll make dinner in a bit.” Another skill he’d picked up after losing Carolyn.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Marcus nearly groaned. Those words always meant that Ryan was up to something. He smiled. How had he managed to raise a son who was a con artist at heart? Marcus leaned back against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. “What?”

“I can eat the lasagna now and get started right away on my homework.”

“And?”

“And I’ll be done in time to play in a Castle Battle tournament tonight at seven.”

“Ryan, it’s a school night.” Video games were normally off-limits except on the weekends.

“It’s the tournament of the year. Come on, Dad. I’m really good at it. I could win.”

Marcus looked at his son. The bruise around his eye was going to be dark by morning. “Put ice on that eye tonight.” Principal Hawkins’s words came to him. Did Ryan deserve a break in this? As it was, he’d be spending the next week in detention after school. Was that punishment enough? It wasn’t as if Ryan regularly got into trouble.

Ryan’s earlier explanation almost made Marcus proud of his son. Proud of his convictions, anyway.

But Marcus also knew Ryan. He’d learned over the past few months how to deal with Ryan’s “ideas.” He could “outdeal” him, or accept the proposition. Carolyn had been so much better at this than he was.

He didn’t have the energy for dealing tonight. “I want you off the computer by ten. Lights out by eleven.”

Ryan did a fist pump and shoved the plastic container into the microwave.

“But—” Marcus knew better than to let Ryan think he was totally off the hook.

Ryan slowly pivoted on his heel. “But what?”

“Tonight you get the tournament. Tomorrow we’ll discuss your punishment.”

The boy’s smile melted. “I’m sorry you got called, Dad.”

“But you’re not sorry for the fight?”

Ryan had to think a minute. “Not really.” The microwave’s timer sounded, and Ryan grabbed the hot dish. “Gotta go. Got homework to do.”

“We will discuss this,” Marcus yelled over the sound of Ryan’s footsteps on the stairs.

“Sure, Dad,” Ryan yelled back, his footsteps crossing the ceiling overhead.

Marcus sighed. To be young and so resilient. “Sorry, Carolyn,” he whispered, “I’m trying.” But the life she’d tried to help him build, the one with the family that came home and had dinner together every night, just wasn’t meant to be.

Marcus glanced at the kitchen table. It was covered with his backpack, books and laptop. They wouldn’t be eating there anytime soon.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had a lot of extra time. Today was the deadline for the midterm essays. It could be an awfully long night.

* * *

EVERYONE ON THE teaching staff took a turn monitoring detention. While it wasn’t the norm for Addie to take a rotation, she was happy to step in since Lindy was out of the rotation right now. It was swim season, and between coaches and club sponsors, options were few.

Today there were four kids seated in the desks where, normally, Mr. Hudson taught English lit. Addie knew all four of them. She’d been the one to assign them detention.

Ryan was already seated in the back, his work out in front of him. Two other boys were here for fighting as well, and a girl, Melissa Hopper, had cut history class one time too many. Nick was nowhere to be found. Why wasn’t she surprised?

“Afternoon, everyone.” Addie put her own stack of work on the teacher’s desk. The irony that she was in detention, something she’d never gotten in school the first time around, wasn’t lost on her.

There were a few mumbled responses. The door slammed open then, and Nick came stomping in. He slumped into the first seat he came to, dropped his backpack and propped his feet on the chair in front of him.

“Good of you to join us, Mr. Holden.” She stood and walked over to him. “You can work on your homework for the next hour.”

“I don’t got none.”

“You do know I can call your teachers and check, right?” She really tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“They already went home.” Defiance came across loud and clear.

She debated arguing with him. Part of her was tempted to let him sit there and be bored for the next hour. It would serve him right. She owed it to her staff to encourage him to get his work done.

“You ain’t my mother, you know.”

Thank God. “No, I’m not. I’m your principal. Almost the same thing.” As a teacher, she’d often spent more time with some of the kids than their parents did.

He glared at her and, with a heavy sigh, reached for the backpack. The rasp of the bag’s zipper was loud in the quiet room.

“Thank you,” she said and returned to the desk. The other kids were watching, a fact she didn’t acknowledge. Ryan’s eyes were wide, though, when Nick pulled out his phone. “You know the rules, Nick. No phones. Put it away. Now, or it’s mine.”

“But I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Sorry, that’s the way it is. Kindly, put it away.”

Ryan watched closely as Nick sullenly shoved the phone into a side pocket. She could see Ryan wanted to get up and help her out. Thankfully, he didn’t. That protective streak. She wondered if he’d gotten that from his father.

Marcus Skylar’s face came to mind, and she found herself curious about him.

He’d done a good job with Ryan. The boy was a good kid. She’d done some investigating after they’d left her office. Paul Hudson had been more than happy to fill her in on what he knew. He’d defended Ryan, but didn’t know the complete details. She’d get them, she knew. She just had to find the right person to tell her. If it wasn’t for the school’s no-tolerance policy on fighting, she wasn’t sure Ryan would be here right now.

The hour dragged by. Even Ryan ran out of work to do and started fidgeting in his seat before it was time to leave.

“It looks like most of you finished your work,” Addie finally said. The looks she got were almost comical. She could tell they were hoping she’d let them go early. Not a chance, but they didn’t have to know that. She looked at the expectant faces. With the exception of Nick, these were all pretty good kids.

“Let’s talk about a couple of things.” She walked around to perch on the front of the desk. “How many of you are looking for summer jobs?” Eighth grade—the year before high school—was usually the year kids started to seriously think about jobs, about spending money and getting out of the house to hang out with their friends.

Three of the five students shot their hands up. Nick ignored her, and Ryan shrugged. “Ryan?”

“I don’t know. We just moved here.”

She nodded. “That can be a challenge. Does anyone have any ideas to help Ryan get to know the area?”

“What part of town do you live in?” Melissa asked.

“In Sommerfield. Over by the baseball fields.”

That wasn’t far from where Addie lived, and where she’d grown up. “You could see if the parks department is hiring,” one of the other boys offered. “They take care of the ball fields. Use kids to do it sometimes.”

“That’d be cool.” Ryan grinned and nodded. “I’m hoping to play baseball this year.”

Nick paid attention to the conversation for the first time. “Yeah, like you could throw a ball.”

Addie speared him with a glance. “You like being in detention, Nick?” she asked him. “That wasn’t polite.” She looked over at Ryan, half expecting to see either anger or hurt in his eyes. The boy was standing, hard determination on his face. “Sit down, Ryan. Nick, apologize.”

“Sorry,” Nick mumbled.

“As an apology, that could use some work.” It had been a whole lot easier when she’d had to deal with her three brothers. At least then she’d had the final weapon—Mom.

Sighing, she chose to take the win with the other kids and ignore Nick’s behavior. “Back to our conversation. Anyone have other ideas to help Ryan? Each other?”

“There’s a strip mall east of there that has lots of shops,” the other boy offered. Everyone, except Nick again, nodded.

“Lots of good ideas,” Addie said. “Here’s what I’d like you all to think about. As the principal, I get people contacting me who are looking to hire students. I hear about opportunities. I’m more than happy to share that information with anyone who shows potential.”

Four heads nodded. “But...” She looked at each kid, holding their gazes for a long moment. “Detention doesn’t show potential.” Nearly every gaze fell. “So, think about your actions, about what you do through to the end of the year. You stay out of here for the rest of the year, and I’ll seriously consider sharing any job information with you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Hawkins.” Melissa smiled. Like the others, she wasn’t a bad kid—she just needed to engage and want to work at school.

Addie made the same offer to any of the kids who were in detention. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes they just needed a little nudge in the right direction. Other times, nothing worked. She glanced at Nick.

“Okay, everyone. The hour’s up. You can leave, but remember what I said.” The noise of everyone gathering their belongings filled the room. “See you all here tomorrow.”

She or one of the teachers would, anyway.

Ryan stopped at the door and looked back. “Ms. Hawkins?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a sorta personal question?”

“Uh, yes. Not sure I’ll answer.” She’d learned to hedge her bets a long time ago.

“How long have you lived in Austin?”

“Most of my life. Why?”

He shrugged. “Just curious. We lived in Chicago before we came here. It’s different.”

“I’d expect it to be. Do you miss Chicago?”

He thought about it for a minute. “I miss some of my friends, but my dad’s happier here. I like that. Have you ever been to Chicago?”

Her answer seemed to be important to him. He must have a strong sense of pride for his hometown. “No. But I’d like to.”

“Are you sure?” he asked urgently.

“I think I’d have noticed.”

“Oh.” He looked a little crestfallen.

Addie frowned. This seemed a bit more than hometown pride. Her answer seemed to confuse him. “But I promise, if I ever go, I’ll be sure and check with you to see about what I need to see.”

“There’s a lot of cool stuff.” He nodded, though his smile didn’t return. “You gotta try the pizza.”

“I’ll remember that. You’d better hustle so you don’t miss the bus.”

“I walk home. It’s close enough.”

She nodded. “Healthier, too.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” And when he was gone, the silence of the room suddenly seemed heavy. Addie gathered her things, her mind already three steps ahead. She still had way too much to do before she headed home. But she had to admit, she’d enjoyed chatting with the students. Damn Lindy for being right.

* * *

ADDIE TAPPED HER pen on the desk. Another Monday was nearly over—for the kids anyway. Surprisingly, after a week of supervising detention, she missed it. She’d managed to get something done while the kids worked on their homework.

And she’d gotten to know them all a little bit. They’d ended each session with a few minutes of discussion. And every day Ryan had stayed behind to ask a question or two.

He now knew that her favorite color was blue. He’d learned that while she hadn’t been to Chicago, she had gone to college at the University of Illinois in Urbana. That answer had made his eyes light up with his smile. He’d been extremely interested in hearing about her siblings, especially Wyatt’s ranch and the horses.

She missed their interactions. Glancing at the clock, she figured it’d be another couple of hours, at least, before she finished with the pile of paperwork. She had finally figured out the budget, though. She wanted to pat herself on the back for getting that done. Now the employee files perched on her desk taunted her. She sighed.

Time to look at year-end reviews. What exactly did this have to do with education?

“I’m heading over to the admin office with this,” Gina said from the doorway, a box in her arms. “Do you need anything before I take off?”

“A million dollars?” Addie mumbled to herself. “No. Thanks.” She stared out the window. The bus stop was just outside, and she watched as kids waited and the big yellow buses arrived.

Maybe a cup of tea would help her concentration. She stood, intending to head to the teachers’ lounge. That’s when she saw them.

Ryan was with another boy, leaning against the wall at the corner of the gym building. This was his first day out of detention.

She couldn’t quite identify who the other boy was. Their heads were bent over the screen of one of their phones. She was almost afraid to wonder what had grabbed their attention. Whatever it was, it was apparently quite enthralling.

She liked seeing the smiles on both their faces, though she didn’t really want to know what was going on inside the heads of two thirteen-year-old boys. Still—

She moved closer to the window. From here, she could see them more clearly. The other boy was Dex Silvano. Dex was one of those kids everyone loved, but who she was convinced would grow up to be something great—like a jewel thief or used-car salesman.

He and his family lived only a couple of blocks from her, and Addie frequently ran into his mother at the grocery store. Addie knew more about Dex than she did any of the other kids at the school. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Maybe some fresh air would help more than tea. She headed to the door and outside. “Hey, Principal Hawkins,” rang out several times. She smiled, stopping to talk to several kids who’d been her students last year. It helped fill up that little hole that grew inside when she spent too much time alone.

She wondered why Ryan and Dex were still here. They both lived within walking distance. Addie herself sometimes walked to work on nice days. Like today.

“Hello, boys.”

Ryan looked up, and, while his smile didn’t go away, it faded some. She felt a little guilty. He thumbed the screen of his phone dark.

“Hello, Ms. Hawkins.” He shoved the phone into his pocket. “Am I in trouble?”

Addie laughed. “No. I’m just taking a break. Thought I’d enjoy the sunshine.” She lifted her hands toward the sky. “Nice day, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She looked over at the other boy. “Hi, Dex.”

“Hello.” The boy nodded.

“You heading home?” she hinted with a glance toward Ryan.

“Yeah. My dad’s picking me up today.” Ryan gathered up his backpack and hitched it over his shoulder. Dex didn’t have his backpack with him. She almost asked him where it was, but didn’t. His mother would be checking on him, making sure he got his homework done.

“Baseball tryouts start tomorrow,” she reminded Ryan. He’d mentioned it the first day of detention, but not otherwise. Nick’s presence hadn’t helped.

He looked up, seemingly surprised she remembered. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to try out?”

He shrugged. “I dunno.”

She looked closer. “What happened to the boy who couldn’t wait for practice to start last week?”

Ryan glanced over at Dex. Was he worried about what his friend would think of his wanting to play baseball? Dex didn’t let her down, though.

“You didn’t tell me you were playin’ ball. Cool. What position?”

“I dunno yet. I might not make the team.”

“Did something happen? Why the doubts?” she asked.

“No doubts.” Ryan glanced sideways at Dex again. She inwardly smiled. Oh, yeah, even thirteen-year-old boys had to uphold their macho image. He reminded her of her brother DJ. At about the same age, he’d wanted so badly to be just like their brother Wyatt.

“I think you can do whatever you set your mind to.” She repeated the words she’d heard her mom tell DJ back then. “But make sure it’s you you’re trying to be, not someone else. You—” she emphasized the word “—like baseball don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go for it, man. Show that dumbass Nick—” As if suddenly recognizing what he’d said, and to whom, Dex colored. “Uh—”

“I’ll let you off the hook for your language, Dex.” She didn’t want it to interfere with her conversation. “But I expect you—both of you—to let me, or one of your teachers, know if there are problems with other kids.”

“Everything’s fine,” Ryan answered too quickly.

And there it was. The lie he’d nearly told her last week in her office, and in detention. It hurt that he did so now.

“Well, have a good afternoon, gentlemen.” She turned away, then paused and turned back. “Remember, my door is always open.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan whispered.

Had she missed something? Why was he distant all of a sudden? She took a few steps backward. “Maybe I’ll stop in at practice tomorrow. See what coach is planning this year.”

That got a smile out of him, and she was shocked at how it transformed his features. She couldn’t look away.

Memories of another boy, another time—an equally devastating smile—overwhelmed her. Before the ache became too much, she shook her head. Reality, and the school grounds, thankfully returned.

Marcus Skylar was going to have his hands full with this one. Someday, some girl was going to fall head over heels for that smile. Addie just prayed Ryan didn’t break that girl’s heart like Cal had hers.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a late-model Jeep pulled up to the curb near the boys. Ryan’s father sat behind the wheel. He glanced at Addie and their gazes locked. For just an instant. He smiled, not the way his son had, but gentle and warm, inviting.

Addie looked away first, turning to go inside. What was wrong with her? Twice, in a few minutes, she’d lost complete track of her thoughts.

She needed caffeine more than she’d thought.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS LATE when Marcus walked into the coffee shop. Only a few people sat at the scattered tables. The scents of coffee, vanilla and rich aromas from around the world wafted around him. He took a deep breath—and savored it.

Ryan had gone to a weekend baseball camp this morning, leaving the house far too empty for Marcus. Ryan’s joining the baseball team last month had been one of the best things that had happened to Ryan since they’d moved here. He was a happier kid than he’d been in a long while, and he’d made friends with his teammates. For once, Marcus wasn’t worried.

At least as far as his son was concerned. He’d have to remember to thank Principal Hawkins for encouraging Ryan. It had made a difference.

After Ryan left, Marcus had rattled around in the house until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He wondered for the millionth time why he’d let his thirteen-year-old son talk him into buying the place.

Still, it was starting to feel like his, and in reality, Marcus didn’t really care where he lived. Home was an abstract concept for him.

He did like the fact that the coffee shop, as well as several other stores and services, were within walking distance. He’d gotten into the habit of walking to the shop a couple of nights a week, even a couple of mornings. It was a nice change.

As he waited for the barista to make his drink, his phone rang. He thumbed the screen to see who was calling. Not Ryan, please. He wanted his son to be having fun, not checking in with his dad.

His sister Anne’s number filled the display. “Hey, sis.” He was always cautious when his sister called. He loved her, but she wasn’t the type to call and chat. She always had news, was always on a mission.

“Hey, yourself. Thought I’d check and see if you’ve heard from the folks,” she said.

Yep, that was Anne, and there was the preplanned topic of discussion. “When you say, heard from them, what exactly do you mean?”

“Did they tell you what they have in mind?” She was impatient, which was also normal. He was used to being treated like a younger, less competent brother.

“No. Last I heard, Dad was still overseas, and Mom was heading to another fundraiser.” The story of his parents’ life.

“Then consider yourself warned. They’re heading your way.”

“What do you mean, my way?”

“Dad’s home. Has been for a couple weeks. Last night at dinner, he announced that he was taking Mom to Texas to check on you two. They already bought airline tickets.”

Marcus groaned. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, you’d better make time. At least I saved you from one of their surprise visits.”

Marcus closed his eyes, trying to gather his patience. James Skylar did whatever he damned well pleased. He’d show up on some relative’s doorstep and announce he was there to visit for a few days. How many times had they done that when Marcus was a kid? And the big intimidating man that James was—he wasn’t someone people could ignore. They sure as heck didn’t close a door in his face. He’d probably break it down.

Not that that had ever happened. Most of the relatives had actually seemed happy to see him.

Marcus wasn’t like his relatives. “When are they getting here?” he asked, resignation in his voice.

“Not sure. Soon, I’d guess. You know Dad. He found the cheapest, most inconvenient-for-you flight.” She laughed.

“Thanks for the heads-up.” There was a long silence. “How’s life with you?”

Anne was silent, as well. Marcus knew better than to read anything into it. Anne wasn’t a big talker, and she thought out what she was going to say. “Good. Busy, just like you. I’m actually looking forward to their being gone for a bit, sorry.”

Marcus smiled. “You’re not sorry.”

“No, you’re right. Since Dad’s been home, he’s—”

“Difficult?”

“That about covers it. He’s talking retirement. Seriously. Mom might shove him out of the plane somewhere over Kansas if he isn’t careful.”

“How did their marriage ever survive this long?” Marcus recalled the angry words that were frequent in his childhood.

“Dad being gone so much is probably the only thing that saved them. All bets are off now.”

“Yeah.” He looked around, realizing the barista had set his drink on the counter. He grabbed it and headed to find an empty table. “Will you survive? What about Lance?” His brother-in-law usually did fairly well with their parents. Mom loved him.

Anne sighed on the other end of the line. “Even his patience is thin.”

That wasn’t good. Lance was the most laid-back, tolerant person Marcus had ever met.

“And you sent them to me?”

Anne laughed. “Hey, I didn’t send them. This was all Dad’s idea. I didn’t do much to dissuade them.” She went silent again. “Mom’s worried about you, you know.”

Not like he hadn’t given her cause in the past. “I know. I’m doing fine. Really.”

“Would you even tell us if you weren’t okay?” Anne whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Ryan’ll tell me.”

“Smug doesn’t become you.” He liked it, though. This persona he recognized. “Anne?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t go all big sister, okay? I love you anyway.”

Emotion wasn’t something his family had ever been comfortable with, and he felt that discomfort come through the phone now. He didn’t care. He’d learned its value.

“Gotta go. Keep me posted. Love you, too.” The last came out in a hasty whisper as she disconnected the call.

Marcus pocketed his phone. Pleased with himself for setting his sister on edge in a good way, he set his backpack on a small table in the corner. The knot of pressure between his shoulder blades intensified. If his parents were coming to visit, he couldn’t waste any time tonight.

Turning to sit, he noticed a woman seated near the window. She looked vaguely familiar. He frowned, watching her as he absently opened his backpack. She was reading a hardcover book that was most definitely fiction. Her long golden hair kept tumbling down, and every so often, she’d fling it back over her shoulder.

Was that—? Just as he sat, she looked up. Their eyes met. Recognition dawned in her eyes. She smiled.

“Marcus, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. You’re—”

“Addie Hawkins. Ryan’s principal.”

“I thought I recognized you.” It was nice to satisfy that nagging itch of not being able to identify someone.

“That’s okay if you didn’t.” She laughed. “I’m out of my natural habitat. Even the students who see me every day do a double take in public.”

He didn’t think the double take was from recognition. She really was lovely. He halted that train of thought. “Sorry to interrupt your reading.” He nodded toward her book, and she turned the page to continue.

The fact that there was no ring on her left hand didn’t escape his notice. The fact that he noticed shocked him. He hadn’t noticed that on anyone else in ages. He shook his head. That wasn’t why he was here.

He set his own book on the table. Not fiction, though. This book was also part of the reason he’d come here. He didn’t want to read it at home. Alone. In a big lonely house. This was an old book, the spine thin, worn. Not from many hands touching it in a library or bookstore. No, this was a hand-created work, done as a labor of love—a memoir by a man who’d served in Vietnam at the same time his father had. There was a big difference, though.

This man had been a foot soldier, a private on the ground. His father had been high above, watching from the cockpit of a surveillance plane.

Marcus stared at the book’s cover. Odd that Anne had called tonight. Knowing his father would be here soon, Marcus questioned if he really wanted to read it now. Did he truly want to know what was inside? There was no turning back once he started to read.

How would it affect his interaction with his father? Would it confirm his suspicions that his father was hiding something he’d been involved in back then? Or would it alleviate Marcus’s long-held suspicions? What would his next meeting with his father be like?

Marcus had gotten this book from the author’s son. Sam Tilton had died last year from cancer that was most likely the result of Agent Orange. No one could prove it, though, and Sam hadn’t cared.

Marcus had met him once, early in his diagnosis when he’d been sure he’d beat the monster. Marcus had meant to see him again, but Carolyn’s illness—the rest of life—had gotten in the way. This was the first time since he and Ryan had moved that he’d pulled the book out.

Now he second-guessed his decision.

“I tell my students that osmosis doesn’t really work.” Addie’s voice gave him an excuse to break out of his troubled thoughts. He tried to laugh, but he wasn’t very good at it anymore.

She moved—a smooth motion, standing, then walking to his side. “It’s a beautiful book.” She stood close. Warmth from her arm touched his as she caressed the hand-tooled leather cover. “Almost too pretty to open,” she whispered.

“Yeah. What’s inside isn’t nearly as pretty.”

“Have you read it before?”

Marcus shook his head. “No. I know the author. I know what it’s about.”

She moved to tug on the chair across from him. “May I?” At his nod, she pulled the chair out and sat. “I don’t mean to interrupt...but can I help? You look troubled.”

Addie was obviously a caring person. He’d known a few—very few—people like that in his life. Carolyn had been like that. He swallowed the pain in his throat.

He tapped the book cover, breaking the hold of his memories. “This is a memoir. One of the men who was with my father in Vietnam wrote it.”

Her eyebrows lifted. He regretted surprising her like that. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s going to be a tough read. But I need to read it.”

“Why?” Her shock faded, curiosity replacing it in her eyes.

Marcus shrugged. “To find answers. I—”

She waited. Not filling in the blanks, but waiting for him, listening.

“My father doesn’t talk about his experiences. He keeps it all locked up inside.” Letting loose only when he couldn’t hold back anymore—usually with a well-aimed fist or a mouthful of filthy language. “He’s got issues.”

“He’s still around, then?”

“Yeah. We don’t see each other often.” Though apparently, that was going to change soon. “Never did. He didn’t take his family on any of his assignments.”

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze grew distant. “My father died when I was—” She swallowed, then frowned. “About Ryan’s age actually.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The silence grew between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, he found it oddly comforting that she was here, willing to listen as he waded into the murky waters of his father’s past.

“My dad was a great guy.” She seemed to shake herself out of the memories. “There were six of us kids. Mom had her hands full. So, when he died, we picked ourselves up and got the job done.”

“Wow. Sounds rough.”

“Not really. Everyone’s grown now. All out in the world, with families and kids. We...we lost Mom last year.” She stumbled over her words for a second, then once again recovered. “She was ready to join him,” she whispered.

He envied her. His mother wouldn’t be interested in joining his dad—anywhere, here or in the afterlife. She’d stayed married to him, just like she’d stayed behind when he’d deployed. She’d earned the military pension just like he had. She’d said it so many times, he could hear her saying it now.

Addie looked at him, then slowly rose. He had to tilt his chin up only slightly to meet her gaze. She couldn’t be much over five feet.

“I’m sorry.” She moved to her table and gathered her things. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening. This got a little maudlin.”

“No. I interrupted you,” he said. She turned to leave, and he reached out to stop her. “Wait.” She looked back at him. “How about we start over? I’m Marcus.” He stood and put his hand out in greeting.

Their eyes met. She smiled and took his hand. “I’m Addie. Nice to meet you.”

He liked this friendly woman. “Can I get you something?” He gestured to the bakery case and the counter.

“No, thanks. I already have a cup of tea that’s probably half-cold by now.” She took another step, then paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. “But if you’d like some conversation—”

“I would.” He pulled the chair out that she’d been sitting on. Not sure if it was because of how she moved, or the closeness of where he stood to her, but a soft whisper of perfume pleasantly startled him. The long hair that had tumbled over Addie’s shoulder while she read brushed his arm.

So soft. He shivered.

For the first time since he’d moved here, since Carolyn’s death, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

* * *

ADDIE USED TO come to the coffee shop when the hours of taking care of Mom had been too long. Now she used it as a transition. The full day of kids and constant activity at school was too drastically different from her quiet home. She came here and read—then she could face the silence.

Growing up in a houseful of kids hadn’t prepared her for being alone very well.

“You live near here, right?” she asked Marcus as she moved her book bag and purse to his table. The table was small, and while he wasn’t as tall or as muscular as her brothers, he managed to take up more than enough space in the room.

“A few blocks. You?”

“Yeah, it’s just a short walk over that way. Do you come here often?”

He smiled, and she realized he’d caught her unintended use of a pickup line. Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head, hoping he didn’t notice.

He must have taken pity on her. “Sometimes. It’s a nice break.”

“From?”

“A thirteen-year-old boy.” He took a sip of his coffee before saying anymore. “I often wonder if I was like him at that age.”

“You could ask your mother.” She took a sip of her now-cooled drink. Lovely.

“Uh, no.” His smile dimmed. “Mom’s not exactly the reminiscing kind.”

Addie tilted her head just a bit, wondering about him. “She’s not?”

“No. She’ll gladly tell you how much money they raised for diabetes research in 1989, but she couldn’t tell you what I did for my birthday that year.”

“Sounds like a woman who believes in helping people.”

He frowned. “I’d say she’s more interested in the disease of the week and who’s the keynote speaker at the fundraiser.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. That didn’t sound very charitable. She found her way to cope with being alone so much.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by all that. She wanted to ask, but if she’d learned anything being a teacher, it was patience.

“Every family has its issues.”

“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

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.

* * *

ADDIE ROAMED THROUGH the gym. The boys were mostly on one side, the girls on the other. She liked this age. They weren’t yet single-minded. The operative word being yet. She smiled and took another trip around the room.

A girl’s voice came from around the corner of the bleachers. “Boys are just stupid.”

“Oh, you’re just mad because Peter broke up with you right before the dance.”

“Am not.” She was definitely pouting.

“Are, too.” The girl laughed. “Come on, Jill. There are lots of other guys here. Look around.”

“I don’t want to. Guys suck,” she repeated.

“Did you see him?” The second girl’s excited, breathy voice perked up Addie’s ears.

“Who?” the first girl asked.

“The dark-haired guy,” she whispered.

There was a bit of shuffling. “The old guy?”

“He’s not old. He’s gorgeous.”

“You’re crazy, Malory.”

That narrowed it down to just a few girls in the school. Addie leaned against the bleachers, following what was obviously the girls’ gazes. Marcus stood there, chatting with Jack Wilson.

She didn’t like Jack much, though, as the principal, she wasn’t supposed to like or dislike parents. Specific parents anyway. But Jack was one of those guys who just—how did she describe it? He was oily. Like a salesman who didn’t know when to take no for an answer. In her case, he was always selling himself.

He was divorced, and if the tales his daughter shared were true, not amicably. The idea of actually taking him up on any of his offers made Addie’s skin crawl.

Marcus Skylar, on the other hand... She thought about that night at the coffee shop. She’d found herself thinking about their chat, about the book he wasn’t reading and the enjoyable walk home several times since.

Just then, Jack said something that made Marcus smile. He had a nice smile, though he didn’t often use it. She’d managed to coax a few smiles from him so far. She recalled the girls’ comments and was pretty sure her voice would sound as breathy as the girls had if she were to say anything.

“I heard he’s the dad of the new kid.” The girls were speculating again.

“What new kid?”

“The computer whiz. Didn’t you see him in class last week?”

“I’m not sure.”

“He’s blond. Talked about the computer camp he went to last summer. He was bragging about how he met some famous hacker who could break into anything.”

“Oh, him. He’s kinda cute.”

“For a nerd.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice.”

“I’m going to go talk to him,” the girl said, and Addie almost reached out to stop her. Then realized that would let them know she’d been eavesdropping. She was the adult in charge, so, while eavesdropping was expected, it wasn’t how Addie liked to deal with the kids. Even though it sometimes was the only way she knew what was going on.

“The nerd?” The girls continued their conversation.

“No, his dad, silly.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Mike said he’s a widower. He looks lonely, right?” There were a chorus of giggles, and Addie decided to come out of hiding.

“Okay, ladies. Let’s get out and join the party.”

Several of the girls shared uncertain glances as they hustled away from Addie. She smiled, only slightly enjoying the power she had over a bunch of teenage girls who thought they ruled the world.

“Well, well, well.” Lindy stepped out of her own set of shadows. “Wasn’t that fun to watch?” She laughed, and Addie realized she was looking farther down than normal. She was wearing heels and Lindy had hers in her hand.

“What was fun?” Addie kept her same pace, moving around the room, watching and checking on everyone.

“Why, seeing this side of you.”

“What side of me?”

“The woman who’s interested in someone, who doesn’t want anyone—especially the person who she’s interested in—to know she’s interested.”

“Thank God you don’t teach English.”

“Yeah, not my best subject.” Lindy fell into step with her. “But you got my point.”

Addie huffed. “Yeah, I got your point.” There wasn’t much reason to hide anything from Lindy. They knew each other too well.

Lindy also knew why Addie would never act on her attraction.

“You know I’m right.” Lindy was always right—or so she believed.

“Maybe.” Addie wasn’t giving her the credit that easily.

“Okay, must I sacrifice myself for our friendship?” Lindy sighed and stopped to slip her feet into her shoes. She put a hand on Addie’s shoulder for balance. “You, my friend, need a nudge. You’ll thank me. And I expect wine with that thank-you, thank you very much.”

Addie cringed, glad that gym class seldom required papers that Lindy had to grade. “Where are you going?”

“Watch and learn, sister. Watch and learn. Follow my lead.”

With a swagger that did all womankind proud, Lindy headed straight toward Jack Wilson. The man was talking loudly, with his hands flying in the air, explaining something to Marcus. The instant he caught sight of Lindy heading toward them, he froze. Hands in midair. For an instant, he actually looked shocked, maybe even frightened.

Then Lindy must have smiled—Addie couldn’t see Lindy’s face from here. But the man—both men—smiled. Marcus’s looked a bit more like relief than joy, but Addie wasn’t sure. She didn’t know him that well yet. Whoa. Wait. Reverse that thought. Delete yet from that statement.

Addie couldn’t hear what Lindy was saying, but the way she looked at Jack, and the way she curled her hand around his arm, said plenty.

They started to stroll away, Lindy guiding him through the crowd of kids. She turned and winked at Addie as they left, as if to say, “Go for it.”

Marcus stayed where he was, watching Addie. Their gazes met, and something flipped in her stomach. She continued slowly the rest of the way around the gym until she was once again at the punch table.

“Your friend seems to have distracted your, uh, admirer,” Marcus said, leaning close. The music had gotten a bit louder. She’d given specific instructions on how loud the music could be, as much to protect everyone’s hearing as the ancient walls that had been built well before the advent of rock and roll. She didn’t have the budget for repairs.

The guys in the sound booth were definitely pushing it right now.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

He laughed, and she wished the music wasn’t so loud. She wanted to hear him.

“Hope she doesn’t have to be very often.”

Addie shook her head. It wasn’t as if they had too many of these functions throughout the year. Thank God her path crossed with Jack’s only a couple of times a year. His ex took care of most of their daughter’s school interactions. Addie and Marcus stood there for several long minutes, not saying anything, watching the strobe lights match the beat of the music. Again, the silence between them seemed comfortable and neither seemed inclined to break it.

Soon, the evening started winding down and Marcus turned to find his son to leave. “Bye, Addie.” He stepped closer, and while his breath brushed her ear, his body heat brushed the rest of her. “See you around. Maybe at the coffee shop sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

His grin was quick, and he moved away before she could confirm or deny anything.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, what was she thinking? They weren’t teenagers anymore. She was over thirty—not seventeen—and she was supposed to be supervising wayward kids. Not becoming one.