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“Dad,” Ginger whispered, and Nate bent to scoop Connor into his arms.
“Hey, bud,” he said, his heart expanding at a rate he’d never felt before. “Did you get some muffins?”
“Yep,” Connor said, leaning into Nate’s shoulder. “Cowboy Bill let me take Ursula to get the mail.”
“Is that right?” Nate asked. “Did we get anything?”
“Bill said we did. Something from the layer-yer.”
Nate tried to figure out what he’d said, and he glanced toward the deck, where Bill had come out and now held up an envelope. “The lawyer,” he said, and Nate’s pulse rioted again.
He felt like a yo-yo—up one moment and down the next. Panicked one moment, and anxious the next.
“Let’s see what it is,” Nate said, setting Connor back on his feet. His legs felt like he was bending them backward, but he made it to the deck and up the steps. He took the envelope from Bill and opened it, not sure what he’d find inside. He didn’t pretend to understand how the adoption of a family member worked, but Lawrence had said he’d take care of it.
This letter wasn’t from Lawrence, though. It bore the letterhead of the same firm, and Nate realized he’d passed the case onto a family lawyer in the same building.
“Jill didn’t contest the adoption,” he said as he read. “And neither did anyone in her family.” Relief streamed through him, and he beamed down at Connor. “That means we’re good to go ahead, bud.” He handed the paperwork to Ginger, because she liked to read it for herself, and Nate scooped the little boy back into his arms.
All cares and worries about that weekend’s drop-off disappeared as he and Connor laughed together, and Nate bent to touch his forehead to Connor’s. “I love you, Connor,” he whispered. He’d always loved his nephew, but this was something different. Something more.
Something parental.
* * *
Nate hatedhimself as he glanced over his shoulder to the sleeping form of Connor. They were packed and ready to hit the beach at seven a.m. tomorrow morning, but Nate hadn’t been able to move his drop-off.
Instead, he’d gotten Nick to do it. He could drive himself. He could leave the beach for forty minutes and get the job done.
Nate had had to explain a couple of things he wished he hadn’t had to, but Nick hadn’t judged him at all. He hadn’t asked too many questions either.
Nate slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him silently. Spencer and Nick shared a room, and Spencer got vicious if someone interrupted his sleep. So Nick had agreed to meet Nate on the back deck.
The location made him nervous, because anyone could overhear the conversation, and he didn’t want anyone else on the ranch to know about his deal with Oscar Dominguez. It was almost over, and then he could breathe.
And when he became a free man in just eighty-seven days, he wouldn’t have anything or anyone in his way to start his life again, with a son.
He slipped out the back door, and thankfully, Nick already stood against the railing. He turned toward Nate and smiled.
Nate did not. He felt like he’d swallowed one of the beehives out on the ranch, and he pushed against the nausea. “Hey,” he said, joining Nick. “Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem,” Nick said. “It’s going to the bank. Picking up the envelope. Putting it in the backpack, and taking that to a locker in the mall.”
“That’s right.” Nate took a deep breath. “Then you text me the number and the code, and I’ll take care of the rest. Come back to the beach. Done.” The weight of the money in Nate’s pocket seemed to weigh him down. “And I have something for you.” He pulled the bills out and tried to slip them to Nick quickly.
But Nick wouldn’t take it. “I don’t need to get paid. Friends do favors for each other.”
Nate shoved the money back in his pocket. “Okay.”
“How much money do you have?” Nick asked.
“A lot,” Nate said.
“How?”
“I inherited Ward’s entire estate,” Nate said. “And I invested wisely before prison.”
“You were in investments, right?” Nick asked.
