Page 29 of Peaks and Promises

“He’s in jail.”

“Right. Or, he was.” She paused. “That man who was outside your school… His name is Axel, and he’s your father.”

Nate shot up from the couch so fast he kicked the coffee table. His muffled grunt twisted my heart a little. Poor kid.

He walked around the room for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Or maybe just walking off the pain in his shin. I couldn’t see Summer’s expression—she was facing away from me—but she didn’t get up. She seemed to be giving him space to figure out how he felt.

“Is he in the gang?” he asked, finally.

“He’s in a motorcycle club, yes.”

“What does he want?”

“Well…” She paused again. “He said he wants to see you.”

Nate clenched his hands into fists. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but my house wasn’t very big. There weren’t a lot of other places to go.

“Why?” His voice was laced with anger.

“Why does he want to see you? I guess—”

“I’m ten, and he never even sent me something in the mail. They can do that from jail, you know. I asked Ms. Mindy. They can get mail and they can send things.”

“I know, honey.”

“I hate him. I don’t want to see him. Ever.”

“That’s okay.” Her tone was soothing. “You don’t have to see him.”

Nate fought back tears. His jaw tightened, but his lower lip trembled, and his brow furrowed with pain.

“Oh, buddy. I’m so sorry.” She rose from the couch and held out her arms. “Come here.”

He cast about the room, like a caged animal desperate for a way out. Without another word, he darted toward the back door. It took him a second to unlock the dead bolt before he threw it open and stormed outside.

Summer pressed a hand to her forehead, looking defeated.

The backyard was enclosed, but I didn’t like the thought of him being out there alone. “How about I keep an eye on him while he calms down?”

She nodded while a few tears trailed down her face.

The urge to hold her swept through me. But I didn’t want to leave Nate outside.

And who was I to her?

I could help her—and I would. But there were lines I couldn’t cross. For so many reasons. Considering her past, mine was a problem.

I hated keeping secrets.

So I left her standing there and followed her son outside.

The afternoon heat evaporated the sweat from my forehead before it had a chance to bead. My backyard was landscaped with rocks and a few desert plants—stuff the previous owner had put in—and surrounded by a high wall.

Nate sat in one of the cheap plastic chairs I’d put out next to the grill. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes on the ground. He didn’t look up when I dragged the other chair forward and took a seat next to him.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, or if I should say anything. I didn’t have much experience with kids.

“Do you have a dad?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.