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But no matter how many times I told myself that my brother was there, I knew better. I knew who was standing behind that hood. And just the thought of seeing him made my stomach clench and my body tremble.
I pulled Jagger’s car behind mine and shut it off. With another deep breath in, I stepped out and walked toward the sound of my son’s animated voice. Each step felt weighed down and harder than the one before it.
When his voice wove between Keith’s words, I faltered.
This was the problem with Thatch. There were no strangers in this town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. And there was nowhere to hide.
Shops closed down if the owners wanted to go spend time on the lake, and businesses made house calls.
Like the auto repair shop: Danny’s Garage.
Like the mechanics there.
Especially when the owner’s son was Deacon Carver.
Maybe I needed to leave. Take Keith and find a place to live somewhere outside this town. Because atte
mpting to hide from the guy whose family practically owned Thatch was proving to be impossible.
“Aliens came from a spot in the sky.”
“Aliens!” Deacon said in a shocked voice. “Where?”
Keith sighed. “They’re not here anymore. I’m Iron Man. I made them go back.”
Deacon sighed dramatically. “Kid, I don’t know what the world would do without you.”
“I know,” Keith said seriously. “But that’s why no one can fix Mommy’s car, not even you! Because aliens hurted it.”
I walked into their view in time to see Deacon fighting a smile, his mouth slightly open to respond. But his large frame tensed when he caught sight of me, and his mouth fell into a sneer.
Irrational, betraying heart.
“Mommy!” Keith shouted as he barreled into my legs.
“Hey, honey,” I said softly, and ran a hand through his hair as he began talking a mile a minute.
“Mommy, Deaton’s tryin’ to fix your car, but I told him he couldn’t fix your car. Because the aliens came after it. Right, Mommy? But I’m Iron Man and I made them go away so they can’t come after any more cars.”
“I heard. I could’ve sworn I was woken up by Captain America this morning.”
He sighed. “That was like, five years ago!”
“Oh, of course,” I said as I fought my own smile, and turned us toward the warehouse. “Why don’t we go inside so Deacon can work?”
My son’s face fell, but it was Deacon who responded.
“He isn’t bothering me,” he said in a gruff voice.
There was an odd pang in my chest as his words from the day before mixed with his implication then. Embarrassed heat crawled up my face, and despite how hard I tried not to, I looked over my shoulder at the angry scowl on his face.
Light brown eyes were narrowed on me, as cold as ever.
Again, the way he looked at me made me feel as though I deserved his anger—and I wanted to hate him for it.
“Keith, go inside.”
“But—”
