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“Will do.” He hung up, knowing he wouldn’t do that. He loved his wife with his whole soul, and he always had. But he was busy, and she was busy, and sometimes—all the time—he didn’t see how much she needed an escape until the night before.
“Dinner,” he muttered to himself as he left the apartment. “Call her mom from the car.” He looked up the name of the sandwich shop in the elevator ride on the way down to the parking garage, and he thanked Robert for filling up the SUV before he got behind the wheel.
A little over an hour later, he pulled up to the gate at his house and tapped in the code to get it open. His driveway curved around a pond and back to the house, and Hunt loved the feelings of peace and serenity that came every time he came home.
Molly’s SUV sat in the open garage, and Hunter parked on the other side, behind his motorcycle and his family truck. He’d have to move in the morning to hook up the boat, but that was tomorrow, and this was tonight.
He gathered the bags of sandwiches and headed for the garage entrance. Music pounded behind the closed door before he even opened it, and when he did, a smile instantly popped onto his face.
Ryder gyrated in the kitchen to the beat, his little brother’s hands in his. The two of them laughed and laughed as they danced, and Hunter couldn’t help joining in. He slid the food onto the counter and yelled, “Where’s Mama?”
“She left,” Ryder yelled back.
Alarm pulled through Hunter. He reached on top of the fridge and turned down the music. “She left? Her car is in the garage.”
“Daddy.” Clay toddled over to him, and Hunter swooped the little boy into his arms. He wasn’t potty-trained yet, as he’d just turned three a couple of months ago. Hunter would get the charts and stickers and put on his happy face every time his son went in the potty once Molly decided it was time for him to be out of diapers.
“Where’s Mama, baby? Her car is outside.”
“She went to the Stephens’,” Ryder said. “She said she’d be back in a few minutes.”
Hunter looked out the window above the kitchen sink. It showed him the backyard, which was immaculately landscaped and mown. They had a swimming pool, a hot tub, trampoline, and a swing set, as he had so much money he didn’t know what to do with all of it.
In the back corner, a gate led from their yard into the Stephens’ yard, and he wondered what Cindi needed.
“I have dinner.” He tore his gaze from the fence when his wife didn’t walk through it. “Where are the girls?”
“Upstairs,” Ryder said. “Charlotte wouldn’t stop crying on the way home from the farm, and Mama lost it on her.”
“Lost it?” Hunter looked at his oldest son. “Define that, please.”
“She was yellin’ a lot,” Ryder said with a sigh. “Charlotte was being super annoying.” He looked disgruntled for a moment, and then he started pulling out the sandwiches.
“Get plates,” Hunter said, brushing his hands away from the food. “Clay, you’re going in your seat.” He strapped the boy into the booster seat at the table and went to the bottom of the stairs. “Girls,” he called. “Come eat dinner.”
Ryder put plates on the table, and Hunter passed out the sandwiches. “Can we have soda?” his son asked.
“Sure,” Hunter said, though he didn’t know what other sweets and treats Molly had allowed the kids that day. “I got chips for everyone too.” He dumped the single-serve bags into the middle of the table. “Fishing tomorrow?”
Ryder’s face lit up, and Hunter thanked the Lord every single day for his son. That he had someone who loved fishing as much as he did, so he could continue the legacy his father had started with him.
“The girls are coming too,” Hunter said just as they arrived in the kitchen.
“Coming where?” Lisa asked.
Hunter grinned at her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She had her mother’s freckles, but his dark, dark eyes, and he thought she was so beautiful. “Fishing,” he said.
“I don’t want to go fishing,” Charlotte said.
“Too bad,” Hunter said, giving her a look. “Come talk to me.” He looked at Clay and Ryder. “You guys eat without us. Ryder, make sure everyone gets the chips they want before you take seconds, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
He motioned for Charlotte to go with him into the living room. She hiccuped as she did, and he told himself to be patient. Molly had already gotten upset with the girl, and she’d feel bad about it. He’d hear all about it as they got ready for bed that night, he was sure.
He sank onto the couch and pulled his eight-year-old onto his lap with a grunt. “Wow, you’ve gotten big.”
“Daddy.” She curled into his chest, and she wasn’t so big that she couldn’t do that. She had long, dark hair and lighter eyes like Molly. She had the Hammond intensity that had skipped over him but had really been prevalent in his Uncle Ames and in his half-sister Jane.
