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‘You said nothing would ever make you late.’ Sam lifted his head to look at her, and even across the room Joel read the accusation in his eyes.
‘I know that, sweetheart, but my car wouldn’t start.’
Unable to bear the stricken look on Lucy’s face any longer, Joel stepped forward, squatting down next to them so that his eyes were level with Sam’s.
He didn’t know what the hell he was going to say, but he knew he had to say something.
‘Hi, there, Sam, I’m Joel.’ He cleared his throat and paused. What he knew about little boys could be written on a postage stamp. Unless they were sick, of course. But he remembered reading somewhere that you should always be honest with children, and he took a deep breath. ‘It wasn’t your mum’s fault. She couldn’t help being late. When the weather is cold, like it is at the moment, sometimes cars just don’t start. I’m going to take a look at your mummy’s car and see if I can mend it so that this doesn’t happen again.’
Sam stared at him for a moment, his face still pale, then he turned back to Lucy. ‘It wouldn’t start?’
‘That’s right.’ Lucy nodded and Joel could see just how hard she was struggling not to give way to tears. She took a deep breath. ‘We need to go home, sweetheart, and we can talk more, later.’
The little boy was trembling now. ‘I thought you weren’t coming. I thought I’d been bad and you didn’t want me any more…’
Joel felt as though something heavy had landed in the middle of his chest.
Why would any child think a thing like that?
Lucy took another deep breath and caught the little boy by the shoulders, forcing him to look at her. ‘Sam, I want you to listen to me, because there’s something you need to understand.’ Despite the dampness of her dark lashes, her voice was firm and steady as she talked to her child. ‘There is nothing, nothing, you could do that would stop me wanting you.’
‘But Dad…’
Lucy’s face lost all its colour and her eyes were tortured. ‘We’re not talking about your dad, Sam,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. ‘We’re talking about me. I know I was late today, but you should have known I would come. I always come.’
Joel felt an unfamiliar feeling in the back of his throat and wondered what on earth was happening to him. Offhand he couldn’t remember a single occasion in his adult life when he’d felt like crying and here he was ready to bawl his eyes out over the anguish of a little boy he didn’t even know.
What the hell had the guy done to them?
Lucy lifted her head and looked at him, her arms still wrapped tightly around her child. ‘I need to get him home. Will—would you be able to give us a lift? I know I shouldn’t ask. You’ve done so much already.’ Her cheeks coloured slightly and she stammered slightly as she spoke, clearly embarrassed to be asking favours. ‘M-maybe I c-could call a taxi.’
A taxi?
Over his dead body.
‘I’ll give you a lift. It’s no problem, Lucy.’
He had no intention of letting them out of his sight. Not until both of them were smiling again.
He stood up and ran a hand over his jaw, stunned by his own reaction to her plight. Over the years he’d thought he’d experienced every emotion it was possible to feel for the opposite sex—except love, of course—but he’d never felt this overwhelming need to take care of a woman before.
Until now.
But with Lucy looking up at him with those huge green eyes, he suddenly understood why his brothers had been so ridiculously protective of her. There was something about her. A gentleness—a vulnerability—that made you want to hunt for a dragon just so that you could slay it.
She scrambled to her feet and scooped Sam into her arms. Joel could see that there was no way she was going to let the boy go so he didn’t offer to help.
He waited while she spoke to the teacher in a low voice and then followed close behind her as she walked back through the school and out to the car.
Lucy sat with Sam on the back seat of the car, tormented with worry about what had happened and how pale he was.
How could she have put him through that?
For a whole year she’d been so careful, and now…
Would it all happen again? The nightmares, the bedwetting—just when she’d thought things were improving.
She reached for Sam’s hand and then she heard the wheeze.
