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Pulling out his phone, he looked again at the picture he’d taken of Grace the morning he’d woken to her crying. She was giving him a sweet smile. He needed to delete it. What weirdo had a picture on his phone of a child he had no connection to?
He’d done some tough things in his lifetime, dealt with people he’d rather forget, but nothing had left a lasting effect on him like leaving Piper and Grace that day.
Even though she’d been surrounded by her family, he’d felt like he was deserting both of them. Letting them down in some way. It wasn’t a rational feeling, because he had no rights to either of them, and didn’t want any, but four days later his thoughts were consumed with the pair. Was Grace sleeping? Was Piper sleeping? Who was helping her in the middle of the night?
He liked children, but had never imagined himself as a parent—yet since that night with Grace, all that had changed. It surprised him how much he’d enjoyed being with Piper and the child. Surprised, and yes, shocked him.
Dylan pocketed his phone as a knock sounded on the door. Relieved for a break from his thoughts, he opened it. Ava stood on the other side.
“Hey.”
“Mr. Goldhirsh said you need to get moving, as the jogging group are waiting.”
“What?” He actually shook his head.
“You deaf?”
Looking her over, he noted the exercise tights and pale blue sweatshirt.
“I think I like the polite Ava better. This one has way too much attitude for me.”
Things had slowly been changing between him and his sisters. Charlie and he were closer, much closer. They talked, laughed, and just hung out. Ava was a tougher nut to crack, but at least that polite facade had chipped, and he was now subjected to her attitude, which was probably how she’d treat her big brother anyway if they’d been close.
She gave him a sickly smile. Last night the three of them had spent time watching a movie together. Zander had been working, so Ava had been at a loose end, and as her brother and sister were in the room she’d wanted to be in, she’d stayed. But there had been plenty of moaning about the movie choice.
“He brought two of Mom’s friends with him. They’re spending the day with her because he thinks ‘we,’” she made air quotes, which was something he tried really hard to never do in life because it annoyed the hell out of him, “need the exercise.”
“That man could manipulate anyone into doing anything,” Dylan said. “Are you actually running too?”
She shrugged. “I like him, and he’s always been good to me.”
“Plus there’s that thing he has.”
Her smile was small, but still, it was a smile.
“Yes, he’s a master manipulator.”
“Sure, okay, I’ll just get changed and be down. And, Ava?” She turned. “I’m kicking your ass.”
“Doubt that, old man,” she threw over her shoulder. “Besides, it’s not a race.”
He needed the exercise, if only to clear his head. Removing Piper and Grace from his thoughts briefly would be a relief.
He pulled on shorts that came to his knees, a T-shirt, then a sweatshirt and knitted cap. On his feet he wore trainers.
He went to check on his mom before he left. She had two women with her. Both sat in chairs, and one was shuffling cards.
“We’re going out for a run, Mom. You need anything before we do?”
“No, I have my friends here now. You get along, and enjoy your time.”
He waited, but nothing sounding like a lecture came next.She must be sick, he thought.
“Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Jones, how are you?”
“Well thank you, Dylan, and it’s past time you returned.”
Mrs. Taylor had a thin face and lips that he remembered were always painted bright orange, and still were. Although now the lines that bracketed her mouth sucked the color upward.
