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“You mean the kid?” Brock’s voice was low, measured, and Slade couldn’t tell what he was thinking, which wasn’t good. “How old is he?”
“Too young to be yours.”
“You’re sure?” There was a measure of hope in his voice, which made Slade feel worse.
“I am. Plus, he lacks your Viking genes. But he does look like Tayra. He’s a good kid. I think you would like him.”
Brock paused before answering. “Is he yours?”
Damn, he was good, and Slade didn’t know how best to answer. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He rubbed his head, his damp hair sticking up. “We’d need to do a paternity test to be sure. But it doesn’t matter either way. He’s Tayra’s kid and he needs help.” He could hear noises at the other end and a flurry of voices, and he tensed up. “Everything okay?”
“Not sure. I’ll call you later and fill you in. We’re not done talking about this, Slade.”
Nodding even though Brock couldn’t see him, he added, “I know.”
As he disconnected the call, Bethany came back, driving up in a cloud of smoke. She stopped the car and before the engine was off, what looked like an exhausted, cranky Jason had slammed out of the vehicle. He stomped past Slade, muttering about stupid girls, stupid aunts, and slammed into his bedroom.
Bethany trudged over to Slade, her purse over her shoulders and her shoulders slumping. “What’s wrong?” Slade asked.
Bethany shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. Jason and I…it’s been a long day. I took him to the library—we usually go on Fridays, but I wanted him to sign up for a reading program.”
“Jason didn’t want to?” Slade asked. She nodded. In his opinion, Bethany was treating Jason too much like a little kid. He was little, but he was growing up faster than she recognized.
She met Slade’s stare, her own icy. “You’re spoiling him with TV and video games. That’s all he wanted to do. Come home and play.”
“He should be in school. He needs more friends his own age.”
She dragged her purse higher on her shoulder. “He needs stability and order.”
“He’s got that. He’s got you.”
“For how long?” She bit her lower lip.
Slade shook his head. “Jason’s not the only cranky one. Did you two have lunch?”
“It’s not always about food.”
“No, only mostly. For someone who talks big about stability and order, you’re not exactly setting a great example.”
“I—”
He cut off her hot protest with a lifted hand. “Inside. Go wash up. I’ll have my not so famous chicken salad sandwiches ready in ten minutes.”
“Where’d we get chicken salad?” she asked hesitantly. But she stepped up onto the porch.
“Since you haven’t looked inside the fridge all day, you wouldn’t have noticed that I didn’t just get myself a few things. The idea of groceries around here seemed to be milk, peanut butter, and a lot of canned goods. I stocked up on a few things that had more appeal.”
She bit her lower lip. “I didn’t have time to go shopping this week.”
“Yeah, well, your local grocery store doesn’t exactly offer a wide variety, but we’ve got fresh produce. I picked up a cooked chicken—which is where the salad came from—and I’m planning to grill up some burgers tonight. I also want to talk to you about taking Jason to see a specialist in San Diego.”
“Dammit, I knew there was a catch to all this free food.”
“Yeah, well, eat first, talk later.” Slade led the way into the house. He made up sandwiches with the bread he’d bought—that had looked freshly made and local at least—sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and the chicken salad. He put a plate in front of Bethany and then headed down the hall to get Jason from his room.
Jason lay on his stomach, his face half buried in his pillow.
Slade glanced around the room. It looked like any kid’s room. Sports posters on the walls, a messy bed, and clothes spilling out of a hamper. Slade noticed what was missing—no baseball glove or bat, no sign that Jason had been encouraged to get into sports and do more than watch or play them on video games. That wasn’t right.
