Page 6 of Chasing Honor

“Yes.” Her hand went to her hip, and my dad smirked. He always told us he loved when mom caught an attitude with him. I thought he was crazy. When my mom was in a tizzy, there was nothing cute about it.

“It’s a good thing Ethan’s here to pick up our granddaughter then.”

“Please don’t start,” I begged.

My dad chuckled and tagged my mom around the waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He whispered something that turned her face red and that was my cue to leave.

“Carson,” I bellowed.

“Right here, Daddy. Keep your pants on.” Carson trotted up next to me and, blissfully unaware her grandparents were randy, she announced, “We’re going to the movies. Thank you, Gran, for making me cookies.” My mom tried to hide her smile as Carson inadvertently threw her under the bus. It didn’t matter how many times I’d asked my mom to stop giving her cookies every day, especially when she knew I was taking Carson for milkshakes and junk food, she never listened. Her reply was always the same—it was her right as a grandmother.

“Have fun with Daddy.”

“Pop?”

“Right here, Princess,” my dad answered.

“Are we still going fishing this weekend?”

“We sure are. Uncle Jasper is coming, too.”

“Awesome.” She fist-bumped the air. “He doesn’t make me touch the worms like you do.”

“Come on, Squirt, we’re gonna be late.”

We said our goodbyes, and I helped Carson buckle up before I headed in the direction of The Freeze.

Carson prattled on about her day with my mom and dad. I had my best girl next to me, smiling and happy, and all was right in my world.

2

Two hundred and fifty miles wasn’t far but returning to place that held happy memories gave me hope.

It was a start.

Two hundred and fifty miles smelled a lot like freedom.

I stepped out of the motel room I’d been living in for the past week and inhaled. Yes, indeed, freedom. I’d picked this motel because it wasn’t terribly expensive and still in a nicer part of town, and I didn’t feel like I was going to be mugged every time I left the safety of the locked door.

It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and, with nothing to do for the next few hours, I decided on a walk. Hitching my camera strap over my shoulder I double-checked I had my new pay-as-you-go phone and room key. Getting a new cellphone plan was on my long list of to-dos, but first things first—a place to live that wasn’t pay by the night. Hopefully, that would be taken care of later this afternoon.

There was a cute, little park down the block with the most beautiful magnolia trees. I’d already taken at least a hundred images of the blooms, but I couldn’t get enough. The small pond attracted both mallards and sunbathing snapping turtles, there was always something to photograph. My mom used to joke about me never leaving the house without my camera. She complained I was experiencing life through the narrow viewfinder instead of with all my senses. Maybe she’d been right. However, now that she was gone all I had left of her were the pictures I’d taken, and I was grateful to have them. Each time I looked at the images I could draw up a memory to go with what I’d captured. All of them wonderful until she’d met and married Franklin. And with Frank came Samuel, his equally dreadful son.

The pavement gave way to plush, green grass, and I smiled thinking about how angry Franklin must’ve been at my defection. The man had a perverted sense of family and had to know I’d never go along with his plans. It didn’t matter how many times he’d threatened to kick me out of his sprawling mansion or take away my allowance, I never followed his orders. In a way, I was grateful for his ultimatum, I should’ve moved out of his house long ago. My mom had been gone for four years, and I’d stayed in that house of horrors four years too long. I’d been too devastated at the time to make a change. If I’d had my wits about me, I would’ve flipped Frank and Sam the bird and been on my merry way.

A little girl squealed in delight, pulling my attention away from the cream-colored flower. Beautiful, brown curls flew behind the girl has her dad pushed her on the swing, her legs stretching out on the way up and curling back on the way down. With each push she was gaining altitude. She threw her head back and laughed.

The sight was too good to pass up. I lifted my camera and pressed the shutter release, capturing the girl in midflight. I lowered my camera and saw her dad staring at me. Even with a scowl on his face he was hot. Maybe he wasn’t the dad, he looked too young to have a child as old as the girl on the swing. He stopped the swing, said something to the girl, and started toward me in a fast and angry clip.

Shit.

“Hey,” he called out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um . . .”

I was frozen in place. Not only had I not expected him to yell at me, but the closer he got, the clearer I could see his face. I’d been wrong. He wasn’t hot. He was smokin’ hot. Light-sandy-brown hair, greenish eyes, a perfect nose, and a square, chiseled jaw line. What I wouldn’t have given to have him in front of my lens. Maybe with his shirt off, showcasing those bulging muscles under the T-shirt pulled tight across his broad chest.

“Well?” he barked.