The Next Little Thing (Jackson Falls #4) by Laurie Breton

Author:Laurie Breton [Breton, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jackson Falls 4
ISBN: 1490392270
Amazon: B00D9S9E6G
Published: 2013-06-06T23:00:00+00:00

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Without Casey here, the house seemed lifeless, suffocating. Paige had long since gone to bed, after spending more than an hour on the phone, rallying the troops for the big move. With her blunt, in-your-face assertiveness, Paige was nearly impossible to say no to. It probably hadn't hurt her mission that she'd enlisted her Aunt Trish as second-in-command. He had no idea how many people she had lined up for tomorrow, but he could pretty much guarantee it would be more than enough to get the job done.

So here he was, he who'd been up for nearly twenty-four hours, left to wander the house alone with his thoughts. He would have loved to settle down and get some sleep, but it felt unnatural without his wife, and he couldn't seem to quiet the voices in his head. Instead, he took a Corona from the fridge, grabbed his Gibson acoustic, threw on his bomber jacket, and went out to the porch swing.

He loved the feel of the old wooden swing, loved the creak it made as he swayed gently. Propping his ankles on the porch railing, he twisted open the beer and took a long, slow swallow. Set it on the floor and began fiddling with the guitar.

This was how he always worked through his problems. Music was his religion, and it had gotten him through more than one crisis of faith. He pictured Emma's face, those eyes gazing into his with absolute trust. How was it possible that somebody so tiny could have rendered him utterly helpless with just a glance? How was it possible that holding her, looking into those wide, innocent eyes, made him feel like he'd been cut off at the knees?

The first instant he held her in his arms, he'd recognized his inadequacies as a father, had clearly seen all his shortcomings and realized he couldn't possibly give her what she needed. How could he be responsible for the life and well-being of this tiny scrap of humanity when he couldn't even be responsible for himself? He'd never been Mister Responsibility. He was a musician, an artist, a creative soul. Translated, that meant he was disorganized, impetuous, a dreamer, and far too loosey-goosey for his own good. How could he hope to be a father to that helpless little baby until he cleaned up his act, pulled his head out of his ass, and became the sober, responsible dad that Emma deserved?

The question gnawed at him, but the answer was elusive. Was he even capable of change? He'd always flown by the seat of his pants, with varying results. Suddenly the enormity of what he and Casey had done loomed over him, massive as the Hindenburg. If he couldn't change, if he couldn't become the father that Emma needed, would that dark and ominous dirigible crash and burn directly on top of him?

He swallowed back the panic squeezing his insides and focused on his guitar. Here, he could be his authentic self. Here, he

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