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The Girl in the Wind
Keep reading for a sneak preview ofThe Girl in the Wind, book two of Iron on Iron.
1
“I’ll have my phone on,” Theo said. “We both will.”
Auggie bit back a comment.
“In case there’s an emergency.”
“We don’t actually expect an emergency, by the way.” Auggie sent Theo a smile. “In case that needed to be said.”
“That’s why I said in case.”
This time, Auggie bit back a sigh. He didn’t think anyone noticed; the Hazard and Somerset home was a maelstrom (SAT word) of chaos.
“We’re going to have a great time,” John-Henry Somerset said. The chief of police—and Auggie and Theo’s friend—cupped the back of Lana’s head.
“We’re going to play Fillies,” Lana said. The words were flat, almost affectless, one of the lingering effects of the terrible car accident she’d been in as a child. The leg brace was another. She was ten years old now, which was hard for Auggie to believe, with long dark hair that came to her shoulders. She had none of Theo’s features or coloring—in fact, at a casual glance, she might have looked more like Auggie’s biological daughter.
Emery Hazard looked at Theo. John-Henry’s husband was a former police officer turned private investigator, and it didn’t matter how many barbeques and baseball games Auggie went to, the unsettling weight of those amber eyes never changed.
“Fillies,” Theo clarified.
Evie, Emery and John-Henry’s daughter, looped through the room, being pursued by a scruffy puppy. She was five, almost six, and she had John-Henry’s features, although, like Lana, she was dark where John-Henry was blond. As she ran, she screamed, “Biscuit, Biscuit, Biscuit!” The dog didn’t have any problem keeping up with her—in fact, most of the chase seemed to consist of the puppy jumping up to put her paws on Evie, at which point Evie squealed and pushed the dog down to run some more.
“Come here a minute, you maniac,” John-Henry said, catching her with one arm. “Do you remember Lana?”
Lana smiled and ducked her head.
“Lana’s came over to play.”
“We’re going to play Fillies,” Lana mumbled.
“She said—” Theo began.
“Biscuit is chasing us,” Evie said. “Come on!”
Then, latching on to Lana’s hand, she pulled her into a stumbling run. The brace made Lana’s gait uneven, but Evie was smaller and younger, and Lana didn’t have any trouble keeping up. Biscuit charged after them, yapping, and jumped. Both paws connected with Lana’s waist, and she went down with a crash.
Theo started forward.
Before he could reach their daughter, though, Lana was back on her feet, laughing and pushing Biscuit away, while Evie shouted, “Come on, come on, he’s getting us!”
“Her brace—” Theo said and took another step.
Auggie caught his wrist, and when Theo looked at him, he gave him a lot of eye contact.
After a moment, the tension in Theo’s arm eased, and a rueful smile parted his beard.
“Knock it off!” The shout came from Colt, Emery and John-Henry’s son. The teenager was as tall as Emery now, and although he wasn’t their biological child, he had Emery’s startling straw-colored eyes. He also had a thundercloud of hair, which he was—Auggie had been informed—trying to grow out. And about which, on pain of death, Auggie had been told to make zero comments. “Pops,” Colt complained from the living room, “she won’t listen to me.”
“Evie,” Emery said, “listen to your brother.”
The girls stampeded past them again, screaming with laughter.
Theo smiled, but his eyes had that familiar tightness at the corners.
