FAYE HAD HAD a rough twenty-four hours. On the surface, she’d been a mom on her days off. Cooking. Cleaning. Grocery shopping. Watching a movie with her son. Coaxing him into a card game he didn’t want to play, one he lost on purpose as quickly as he could.
He’d only played at all because she’d bribed him with a trip out for ice cream.
Just beneath the surface, she was flying out of her skin. She’d told.
Nothing else came with that.
Just...she’d told.
She’d had no idea how much safety had rested in her being the only one who knew.
She did, and maybe Frank. Probably Frank.
He had to know why she hadn’t gone after him for child support. She hadn’t wanted the truth to come out. Him keeping his mouth shut about it was why she hadn’t charged him with domestic violence.
They were a pair, Elliott’s “parents.”
Partners in a game of keep-your-mouth-shut.
She’d told.
And now, a day later, Reese suddenly wanted an in-home meeting with her son.
She didn’t think, even for a second, that Sara had betrayed her trust. Reese knew nothing about the conversation they’d had.
But karma had a way of getting you. Or something had a way of getting her.
She’d told.
Reese was instigating a conversation with Elliott. It was too much. More than she was ready to face.
Swamped with guilt—that’s what she was. She knew it. Reese deserved to find out if he was a father.
He’d been number three in her plan. Right there all along.
“Maybe we’ll see the friends you met last weekend at the beach,” she said to Elliott as they sped away from The Lemonade Stand just before two o’clock. Regular parking filled up with tourists on warm weekend days like this, but town residents could buy passes to a couple of private lots. She had asked Reese to meet them at one of those.
“Nah.”
Elliott shrugged one shoulder. He looked so cute in his green T-shirt and multi-colored fluorescent trunks that she got a little choked up. Elliott was small for his age. And tried to take the weight of a grown man on those thin shoulders.
“Why not?” she asked him. The rest of the news she had to impart hovered on the tip of her tongue, refusing to slide off.
He’d actually talked to her when she’d met him inside the Stand. Told her he’d had a good computer class. He was learning how to make a meme, he’d said.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged again. “It’s more fun without those guys.”
Sara’s words from the day before rang far too loud. Elliott was isolating himself because he wanted to protect others from the “Frank” in him.
There might not be any Frank in him. Not genetically.
Environment played a part, too, of course. But he’d only spent the first six years of his life with the man. Sara seemed to think they could walk those back, at least enough for her son to be a normal, healthy kid.
During the years she’d been married to Frank, she’d hated how he ignored their son. Now she was beginning to see the silver lining there.
They were on the coastal road and their turnoff was coming up. She had no idea if Reese would already be there.
But her time was up.
“There’s something we need to do before we head down to the water,” she said, hesitant to have this blow up in her face with no time to fix it.
She should have told him as soon as she’d seen him. Before they left the Stand. But he’d been in such a good mood. She hated for others to see him at his worst. Even those trying to help him.
Especially those trying to help him.
For too long, she’d been the only one in control of Elliott’s world. It was hard giving that up. Hard for her, as a mom, to see that her son wasn’t completely well.
Harder still to know that, in part at least, she was to blame.
Elliott was looking at her, waiting for her to continue.
“Chief Bristow is going to meet us in the parking lot. He wants to talk to you.”
“Am I in trouble?” The boy looked as though he might cry, but then quickly bore a hardened expression. Faye wanted to tuck him under her arm and run as fast and as far away as she could.
“No. You most definitely are not in trouble.” She was not going to let Reese Bristow—fire chief or not, biological contributor or not—ruin her son’s good mood.
Lord knew, Elliott had few enough hours when he could just be a little kid.
She pulled into the lot—slow enough to check for Reese’s truck. To see him before he saw her.
“He’s over there,” Elliott said, craning forward.
Now that he knew he wasn’t in trouble, Elliott seemed...perfectly fine. “I was hoping he’d be in a fire truck.”
And just like that he was back to being a little boy.
“I’ll bet if you ask him, he’d let you tour one of the trucks at the station,” she said, her stomach cramping even as she made the offer. “You’re old enough now.”
With that one statement, she’d thrown Elliott and Reese together. She wanted to take it back.
But didn’t. She’d promised herself that if she’d robbed Reese of his son, she’d rectify that in a way that was best for Elliott. Even if it meant shared custody. Or worse.
Her son was out of the car the second she put it in Park. Not waiting for her, he headed straight for the shorts-clad man heading in their direction.
Seeing them together—a first for her—just about did Faye in. Slowing, she figured that, since this was business, she’d leave them to it.
Mostly she knew that she couldn’t approach the only two males she’d ever loved, other than her father. They’d see her crying.
And there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to get rid of her tears.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
REESE’S GOAL WAS to have his words with the boy in short enough order that he could still make tee time. He’d let his party know that if he wasn’t at the course, they should leave without him. It was a friendly game, nothing resting on it. Wouldn’t matter if they went out one player short.
He walked with Elliott, stopping at the edge of the sand, and climbed up to sit on a picnic table, his feet on the seat. It occurred to him too late that it probably wasn’t a great example to set for a kid, sitting on a table with your feet on the seat.
“I talked to your friend Kyle,” he started right in.
“Wha-um-what about?” There was that “um” again.
“He was a witness at a fire scene, didn’t you know?”
He knew the boy knew. He’d heard that the kid had been hateful to his mother that week. With Faye’s permission Lila was keeping him apprised due to the ongoing concern with two of the Stand’s residents being recently involved in fires.
Elliott shrugged. Reese had been told to expect the boy to clam up. Elliott didn’t seem to confide in anyone. Which left those caring for him reading between the lines.
He was just a tiny, sandy-haired kid, sitting there next to him in those ridiculously colored trunks, his shoulders bony beneath his T-shirt.
“I need you to talk to me, Elliott. Man to man.”
“Did Kyle?”
“Doesn’t matter if Kyle did or not. This is between you and me.”
Elliott’s hands gripped the edge of the table on either side of his knees. He was staring down.
“You’re the one who called me, remember?” Reese prompted.
The boy’s nod wasn’t much, but the way he raised his head, meeting Reese’s gaze directly was more. Kind of took him aback.
“Do you know why Kyle was at that fire?”
“He was visiting his aunt.”
“Why was he out
side?”
“It was a fire!” Elliott’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Reese. “He got to see the fire truck up close. And see the guys working it and all.”
“He told you all about it?”
Elliott glanced down again. “Well, not really.”
Instincts on alert, Reese leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well...um... I kinda overheard him telling some other kids.”
“But not you.”
“I was sittin’...you know...um...not with them.”
Because he’d distanced himself. Reese knew that, too. But the boy had confirmed what Kyle had told him. And not because he was in Kyle’s confidence.
“So...you think fire trucks are cool, too, huh?”
“’Course!” Elliott grinned, his legs swinging. “Mom said maybe I could...you know, ask you if I could, maybe...um...see one up close. You know, like, go on it or something when it’s just...um, you know, parked or something.”
Of course Reese could make that happen in a blink. But he wasn’t ready to deliver his goods yet.
“I need to know where you got those matches, Elliott.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the code. I swore. And if I break a swear, I’m a bad guy.”
“Not if you’re helping to stop someone from getting hurt.”
“No one got hurt.”
“But what about next time?”
“The matches are gone.”
“But where they came from, maybe some more can come from there.”
“Uh-uh. It was just that one pack. It was a special pack.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” He looked Reese right in the eye again.
Elliott was not giving in on his matches source. Reese could have gotten a little more tough with the kid but didn’t see that losing his trust was the best way to go at the moment.
“So then, if you’re absolutely certain...”
“I am.” Elliott didn’t even break eye contact as he kept nodding.
“Then I have a deal to make with you.”
“What kinda deal?” The boy looked a little leery.
“You swear to me, man to man, to call me if the need ever arises, then I’ll give you a tour of a fire engine.”
“Yeah!” Elliott’s grin was matched by the enthusiasm in his tone.
“Wait,” Reese said. He didn’t want to scare the boy, but... “This isn’t just for fun. This is a serious business deal. If you don’t keep up your end of it, you will be held accountable.”
“Yes, sir.” Elliott was still looking him straight in the eye. It was kind of disconcerting—a kid being that...whatever it was. Confident, maybe. Or honest.
“And you haven’t heard what ‘need’ means when I say you call if the need arises.”
“It means that, like before, if I’m in trouble and don’t want Mom to get in trouble, too, I call you.”
“No.”
“Oh.” The expression fell, the boy’s gaze didn’t.
“Need means...if you ever even think about starting another fire, you call me instead.”
Elliott nodded. “Yes.” And then, frowning, added, “But that’s not really fair to you pro’bly on that deal because I already know I’m not going to start another fire.”
“It’s my end of the deal. If I want it, then it’s okay.”
“Okay.”
“And ‘need’ also means that if you ever hear anyone else even talking about fire, or liking fire, or how to start fires, you call me.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Elliott. That includes your friend Kyle. Anytime you hear him talking about fires, or fire trucks, anything to do with fires, you call me.”
The boy nodded.
“Okay,” Reese said, standing and giving the boy a hand down. Letting go of those small fingers, he put his hands in his pockets and turned toward Faye’s car. She was leaning against it, looking out at the ocean.
For a second there, he needed to know her thoughts. Right then. Exactly.
The second passed.
“Shouldn’t we make a handshake?” Elliott asked.
“Yes, of course we should.” He took the boy’s hand. Held it firmly. Shook it, man to man.
“We’re agreed then,” he said, meeting the boy’s eyes. “You ever even think about wanting to start a fire...”
“I call you instead.”
“And if you hear anyone else talk about fire, liking fire, wanting to start a fire...”
“I call you.”
Elliott didn’t blink, flinch or turn away. Reese believed he meant what he said with every fiber of his being.
He didn’t like it that Faye’s son wouldn’t confide in him regarding the matches but he was satisfied enough with the outcome of their talk.
And he still had time for his golf game.
They headed back toward Faye’s car. In a black mesh cover-up that hung halfway down her thighs, she’d taken towels out of the trunk. Had a soft-sided cooler slung over her shoulder, as well.
God, she looked good. As beautiful as any other woman on the beach. Maybe even more so. Her hair was down and those long legs...he remembered...
He was her boss. That was what he remembered.
She looked like a good mother. Well prepared. Capable, too. Except for the hand that quickly brushed tears away when she saw them coming.
Faye...crying?
At the beginning of a fun afternoon at the beach with her boy?
What was going on?
Not his business. He was her boss. Nothing more.
He had to do exactly what he’d do were he to come upon any of his employees standing in a beach parking lot with signs of emotional upset.
He’d make sure there was nothing he could do and then move on.
“Mom, guess what? Chief Bristow says I can come tour one of the fire engines,” Elliott called to her before they’d reached the back of the car.
“Yeah!” Faye was turned away from them, ostensibly so she could reach into the trunk for the boogie board. She brushed her cheek one more time with her shoulder and then faced them with a cheerful smile. She adjusted the towels under her arm and the cooler strap slid off her shoulder.
“Let me get that for you.” Reese had it on his shoulder before she could protest. He took the boogie board, too. And then the towels, handing them to Elliott.
“You’re the man of the house, right?” he said to the boy.
“Right.”
“Then you need to watch for things like this—men always help ladies where they can.”
Nodding, Elliott tucked the towels under his arm.
“You know why that is?”
“Sure.” Elliott shrugged. “It’s a rule.”
“No, it’s because men have different muscular structures than women do. Inch for inch, they are genetically formed to be physically stronger. If you’re given an ability, it’s only right that you use it for good, right?”
He was making it all up as he went along. Would be berating himself shortly, he knew. A voice in the back of his mind was already trying to get through. But he had an employee in distress and no one seemed to have her back.
He’d do the same for any of his crew. Like he’d lent a hand when Brandt and his wife moved. And he’d stopped by the hospital to sit with Riley for a while when the man’s wife had had surgery.
“Does this mean I gotta carry in all the groceries?” Elliott asked as they hit the sand and trudged between sunbathers and picnickers. Faye had stepped ahead of them, leading the way to find a spot and leaving Reese to get himself out of the hol
e he’d just dug.
“Don’t you already carry groceries?”
“Sometimes,” Elliott said. “When Mom makes me.”
“The thing about being a nice guy is that you do stuff without being made to do it.”
“So I gotta carry groceries.” The boy kicked up sand with his sandals.
“What do you think? Because I think you should do what you think would be the best thing to do.”
“Well...it sounds like I gotta carry groceries.”
“Then, I guess, if it sounds that way to you, that’s what you should do.”
A few feet ahead of them, Faye stopped. Elliott dropped the towels at her feet.
“I’m going to the water now.” He was already ridding himself of his sandals and didn’t even look at his mom.
“Okay,” Faye told him, tacking on a string of instructions obviously intended to keep the boy safe.
“I know!” he interrupted as he raced to the water’s edge. He hadn’t waited for her to complete her sentence.
Reese had to resist calling the boy back and demanding that he listen. Elliott obviously loved his mother. But he didn’t seem to respect her much.
And Reese didn’t like it.
* * *
“THANK YOU FOR getting these for me.” Faye hoped Reese heard the dismissal in her tone. He didn’t have to stay. She didn’t need him for anything. She’d been handling Elliott, and carrying his things, since the day he was born. A cooler and a boogie board were nothing compared to lugging a stroller, diaper bag and baby all at the same time.
Reese looked ready for a game of golf, but he wasn’t leaving.
“What did he say about the matches?” she asked. If he had something to say, she’d help him get it out.
She needed him gone.
Needed some time on the beach with the sun’s warmth on her skin and sounds of happy people having fun surrounding her. She need to relax and watch her son and pretend that they were as normal as any other family out there that day.
“Nothing. He won’t say where he got them.”
She wasn’t surprised. When Elliott got it into his head that something was the right thing to do, there was no budging him. For whatever reason, keeping the source of his matches seemed like the right thing to him.
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