Lone Star Dad by Linda Goodnight

Author:Linda Goodnight
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Quinn dropped by football practice twice more in the next two weeks. Being there both thrilled and depressed him. There was no way he could attend the first scrimmage, even though Derrick hinted that he wanted him there.

Derrick. Gena.

Somehow his neighbors had become ensconced in his daily routine, and the more time he spent with them, the less time he spent thinking about the next dose of oxycodone. That was a good thing. Something to cling to. Something to build on.

God worked in mysterious ways, he supposed, and he prayed every day and every night and twice on Sunday that he could lay the pills down altogether. Only then would he have a right to involve other people in his life. Not just anyone, but Gena.

Right or not, he couldn’t stay away from her. The fact that she liked him, too, broke down his resistance faster than sweat dries in the Sahara.

Even though the kittens no longer required bottle feedings and they’d forgone the midnight meetings, Derrick showed up at the cabin after school like clockwork, and Quinn had developed a habit of tossing the bike in the back of his truck and driving the kid home. Usually, Gena was there and he stayed until the pain called his name.

Yesterday afternoon he’d gotten hung up at work because some joker had dumped paint all over the outside brick of a new house in the Huckleberry Addition. He and his brothers and Dad had thought the vandalism was behind them after Abby’s house burned to the ground. He hoped the paint incident was unrelated but he wouldn’t count on it. Not after the note Brady had found at Abby’s burned home. Someone had a personal vendetta. The lingering questions remained. Who and why?

Today he pumped the handles of his elliptical cross-trainer, running and exercising while he waited on Derrick. The kid was late. But Quinn could use the extra workout.

He was soaked with sweat and gritting his teeth against the ache when he heard the bike clatter against the wooden porch. He punched the machine’s off button and grabbed a towel.

Wiping his face and feeling accomplished, he opened the door. Derrick slumped inside, his hood up.

Uh-oh.

He gestured toward the couch. “Sit. I gotta grab some water. Want some?”

Derrick shook his head no and slouched onto the sofa.

Quinn filled a sport bottle, slung the towel around his neck and perched across from the boy. “Spill it.”

Derrick glanced up and back down. He pulled a photo from his pouch. “Today’s my mom’s birthday.”

Quinn’s belly dipped. If he’d ever known the date, he’d forgotten.

Totally out of his element, he searched for something kind and useful to say. “You miss her.”

Stupid. Of course an eleven-year-old boy missed his mother.

“Yeah.” Derrick sniffed. “I thought...” He stopped, shuddered, and his chest heaved.

Panic pushed up in Quinn’s throat. Was Derrick crying? What was he supposed to do with a crying kid?

He gulped half the bottle of water. The refrigerator clicked on, loud in the silent cabin.

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