Amos sits across from me and leans his elbows on the table.
"I want to apologize for yesterday."
I tilt my head, wondering which part he's apologizing for.
"I came in all guns blazing. I'm sorry if I gave you a bad impression. I was just looking out for my parents."
His blue eyes bore into mine with intensity. He's a straight shooter, and I appreciate that.
"Apology accepted."
"Good."
His foot taps under the table with restless energy. I wait for more, but he just stares at me in an intense way that makes heat creep up my neck.
"How's your mom?" I ask.
He runs a hand through his hair. "She's got multiple sclerosis."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. "Thanks. That's partly why I'm here. I'm sure you've drawn your own conclusions about our family. My parents are good people. But they're getting old. Dad's almost seventy, and with Mom's diagnosis, they've can't handle Jake's child."
I nod slowly, not liking where this is going.
"Avery can't take him either," Amos adds. "It's not my place to say why, but it wouldn't be right."
I sit up straighter and fold my arms across my chest. He's here to tell me the family refuses to take the boy. That he'll go into the system and languish in foster care.
My heart aches for Sam, and that turns to anger.
If I had a kid related to me, I'd move heaven and earth to make sure they stayed with family.
But not everyone thinks the same, I remind myself.
"I see." My tone is clipped. "If that's the final word from the family, we'll wrap up this line of inquiry."
Amos leans forward. "We're taking him. That boy is Jake's. He needs a home."
I stare at him, confused. "You just told me there's no one suitable."
He shakes his head. "I told you my parents and sister aren't suitable. Which is why he'll come and live with me."
I frown at the man in front of me, and he glares back with an intense look that penetrates my entire body. He's serious. The military man who’s abrupt, rude, and over-protective to the point of obnoxiousness thinks he can raise a kid.
I choose my words carefully. "Are you sure you're the best option to take on a six-year-old boy?"
He leans back. "Best option or not--he's Jake's boy. I'm not going to let him go into foster care."
I shake my head slowly. "You don't know what you're taking on."
"You think I can't do it? You think I'm not capable of raising a boy?" Amos leans forward, and his eyes flash dangerously.
"I've known you less than twenty-four hours, Amos. And I can already tell you're a massive grump. Not to mention the fact that you're serving in the military. Judging by your hard muscles, messy hair, and attitude, I'd guess special forces."
Amos breaks into a grin, and it's so unexpected it throws me off.
"You've noticed my muscles?"
