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“But you never looked into her after becoming an officer. Let alone chief of police.”
“Again, you never seemed to care.”
“Jesus, Grant. I got roofied by the woman.”
“Allegedly.”
“She personally handed me the Solo cup.” He leaned against the counter with his arms. “Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending her. I’m also not indicting her without having the facts. For your information, that’s what police officers do. Investigate. Which never happened, because you refused to do anything about it when she split town. So, until a proper investigation has been completed, and I have all the facts, I’m going to reserve my opinion on the matter.”
“I hate it when you get all rational and reasonable.” That was his M.O. “Just remember, I was the one who took the blame for when you came up with the bright idea to build a bike ramp in front of the neighbor’s garage door.”
“How can I forget when you’re constantly reminding me of the one time I lacked sound judgment?”
“What did you think was going to happen? The ramp was going to hurdle you over the roof of the garage instead of slamming you into it?”
“Shut up. I hadn’t taken physics yet.”
“Physics? How about a course in common sense?”
“Hey, for the record, I’m not the one who has a kid sleeping upstairs.” He took another drink of his coffee. “Did you even know you had a kid?”
“Of course not,” Lucas said with distaste, whipping the towel and snapping Grant’s hand holding the cup.
“Fuuuck.” Grant spilled the coffee and brought the back of his hand to his mouth. “Damnit, Luke, I had to ask.”
“No, you didn’t. You know me better than that.”
“Negative. You’re the one who’s always going on about that ‘endowment’ shit.”
Lucas scratched his forehead. “It’s the Endowment Effect. A financial term. And it doesn’t apply when it comes to kids.”
At least he didn’t think so.
Maybe.
* * *
“Excuse me.”A small dark head peeked around the corner.
Lucas smiled, feeling awkward, refolding the dish towel to keep his hands busy. “Good morning.”
Her smile widened slowly as she entered the kitchen wearing loose pajama bottoms and a short-sleeve T-shirt. She slid into the chair next to Grant, who was staring at her like she was a circus act.
“Hey there,” she said, glancing at Grant self-consciously.
“Hey.”
Lucas cleared his throat. “Mia, this is my brother, Grant. Grant, this is my daughter, Mia.”
She grabbed the edge of the counter and began to sway back and forth on the chair. “So, you’re my uncle?”
Grant’s round eyes moved to Lucas for direction, apparently struck with the inability to form words.
Lucas answered for him, “You could say that. We were foster brothers. Grew up together. I consider him my brother for life, so that would make him your uncle.”
She gave Grant a once-over. “Are you married?”
