by Jo Davis
“What happened?” Shea asked. “The news is saying some pretty wild crap about drugs.” Her hubby was nestled close beside her on the sofa, every bit as intent on the answer.
Shane shifted in his chair, impotent anger clawing at his gut. “Yeah, well, it might not be mere speculation. The detective at the scene told me it looks like an overdose. They didn’t let me see what evidence they had, but they’ve got something solid, or he wouldn’t have said that much to me.”
“Drugs?” Tommy frowned. “I met him only a couple of times, when he was here visiting you, but he didn’t strike me as the type to dabble in shit like that.”
“He wasn’t,” Shane said. The idea made him sick with grief, frustration. “I can’t understand it. He never confided in me about a habit.”
“Maybe it was a new thing,” Tommy offered. “Obviously he wouldn’t have been proud of it, so he wouldn’t have wanted you or anyone else to know.”
The three of them chewed on that for a minute, sipping their coffee. Shane didn’t get any enjoyment from his brew this morning, but he could almost feel the much-needed caffeine flooding his veins.
“The detective is going to give me a courtesy call when they get the ME’s report,” he told them. Then his voice cracked. “I can’t fucking believe I’m discussing Brad and an autopsy in the same sentence.”
In an instant, his sister was perched on the arm of his chair, hugging him tight. “We’re here for you both. Anything you need.”
“I know,” he rasped. “Thank you.”
“What about the funeral arrangements?” Tommy ventured gently. “Need any help with those?”
Shane shook his head with a sad laugh. “Brad was organized to the point of being anal. I teased him about it constantly. His lawyer has all the instructions, and all I have to do is make a few calls.”
A few calls. A few days, and it would all be over. Except it wouldn’t—not really.
“How’s Drew?” This from Shea, who gave him one more hug and moved back to her seat.
“In shock.” He took a sip of coffee. “Time will tell how he’ll adjust. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I don’t know how Brad raised a boy on his own.”
“That’s simple—he didn’t.” Tommy snorted. “He had you and half a dozen other people to bail him out whenever he needed.”
Shane winced. “That’s true.”
“And you’ll have us, plus all your friends,” Shea said. “You’ll both be fine. At least he’s a teenager instead of a little one in diapers.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to make things any easier in the long run.” In fact, he knew it wouldn’t. “This is going to be damned hard. His dad was—is—his hero. Larger than life, famous. I’m just a cop, a regular guy Drew enjoyed spending weekends with. And that will change fast enough when I have to lay down the law for the first time.”
His sister didn’t agree. “I think you’re selling yourself short. That boy loves you, and you’ll both be fine eventually.”
Shane glanced at his brother-in-law, but noted the man wasn’t quite as quick to gloss things with a rosy paintbrush as Shea. Tommy had been through issues with his own parents, and working through them to become a family again hadn’t been easy. Hell, they were still working on their relationship, though it was much improved. The man in front of him had grown up a lot in the last year.
“You’re right. It won’t be easy,” Tommy said seriously. “It’ll get tough before it gets better, and when it does, we’re here. That’s what family is for.”
“Thanks, you guys.”
“Do you think you’ll have any trouble out of James and Rhonda over custody?”
James and Rhonda Cooper were Brad’s parents—Drew’s grandparents. The couple had been good friends of Shane and Shea’s parents, once upon a time. Before the huge falling-out between the two couples and the accident that had followed, taking Darryl and Linda Ford way too soon.
In spite of the Coopers’ betrayal and the horror of the aftermath, Shane and Brad’s friendship had not only survived, it had also deepened over the years. Brad had been horrified by the corrupt layers that had been revealed in his parents.
“No,” he said coldly. “Not unless they want the entire country to know that they attempted to embezzle hundreds of thousands from Dad’s company, not to mention being indirectly responsible for the accident. They’re on a short leash, and that’s where they’ll stay.”
They’d never met Drew, and that wasn’t going to change as long as Shane was alive. He knew from Brad that should the couple survive their son, they weren’t even invited to the reading of the will—they’d get not one red cent of his money.
A shuffle behind them caught his attention and he turned to see Drew standing awkwardly just inside the room. His dark hair was damp from the shower, and he’d dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale.
Shea was up and across the room in seconds, wrapping the boy in her arms. Tommy got up and followed her. Shane noted that Drew was taller at sixteen than petite Shea. Not a boy for much longer, he was again reminded.
“I’m not going to ask a stupid question like how you are,” Shea said, earning her a sad, watery laugh from Drew.
“I keep thinking it’s not real. Right?”
“I know, sweetie. But we’re all here for you, and we’re not going anywhere.”
“That’s what Dad always said, and he’s gone.” They exchanged looks of concern before Drew pulled away. “Can I have some of that coffee?”
“Sure,” Shane told him. “Help yourself.”
He shuffled off, and once he was out of earshot, Shea scowled. “You let him drink coffee?”
“He’s almost seventeen, sis,” he said in defense. “Jesus, it’s not like I’m letting him shoot bourbon. Anyway, give the kid a break, huh?”
“Sure.” She blew out a breath, then lowered her voice as she glanced toward the kitchen. “It’s just that I was thinking there’s gonna be a lot of freedoms you gave him before, as a friend, that he might not have anymore. You can’t spoil him constantly.”
“That’s the point I was trying to make before,” he said evenly. “Don’t you think I’m aware of how hard it’ll be to walk the line between being a parent and a friend?”
“Maybe the word you’re looking for is mentor,” Tommy suggested. “A mentor can be both.”
“I can hear you guys whispering,” Drew said, walking back into the room. “I’m not deaf.”
Shane gave him a pained look. “We’re just worried about you, kiddo. Did you end up getting any sleep?”
The boy shrugged. “Some, I guess.” His drawn, tired face belied his claim.
“Where’s your coffee?” Shane asked.
“Didn’t sound good after all.”
“Are you hungry? I was about to ask Shea and Tommy if they’d stay for breakfast and—”
“I don’t want anything,” Drew said shortly. “Think I’m gonna crash again.”
Helplessly, Shane watched him go, heart sinking to his feet. Finally, he turned to his sister and Tommy. “So, how about that breakfast?”
Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure. And if the scent of bacon won’t lure him out of his cave, nothing will.”
It didn’t. As they ate their somber meal, talking quietly, Shane wondered whether he was making a mistake allowing Drew to hide, if he should have pushed harder.
Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Daisy and their soul-melting kiss last night. Seemed like he was doomed to fuck up quite a bit before he got anything right.
That afternoon, he headed for Drew’s room, determined to pry him out for a while. He had to keep the lines of communication open, whether the boy wanted to talk or not.
At the closed door, he rapped twice, and was met with a muffled “Come in.”
Stepping inside, he saw Drew perched on the padded window seat, arms around his knees. His gaze was fixed into the distance, perhaps studying the bare trees dottin
g his property or the lazy Cumberland beyond. He turned his head to look at Shane, eyes dry. And terribly blank. That void scared Shane a lot more than the outward grief.
Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed close to his godson. “Been awake long?”
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep anymore.”
“Feel like taking a walk?”
“Not really.”
“Please?”
The boy studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”
Grateful to have won even this slight measure of ground, Shane stood. “Come on, let’s get our coats.”
Once they were zipped up, Shane led them out through the sliding glass door that opened onto the large back deck. When the weather warmed up, he’d have the guys from the station over, grill some burgers. Maybe Drew would’ve made some new friends by then. He hoped.
As they picked their way slowly down the trail leading to the riverbank, Shane struggled over how to broach the subject. But it was Drew who broke the ice.
“When do I have to go back to school?” He frowned. “And who’s gonna take me if I’m staying here?”
“That’s one thing I need to talk to you about,” Shane hedged. “I live and work here, and since this will be your home now, too, it makes more sense for you to attend school in Sugarland.”
Drew stopped walking and gaped at him. “Here? In Hicksville, USA?”
Here we go. “Sugarland is a nice city. You’ve always seemed to love it here.”
“Yeah, to visit.” His voice rose. “What about my friends?”
“They’re welcome to come see you, and vice versa. In the meantime, you’ll make new ones.” He hated the placating parental tone of his own voice. Seemed that came naturally, no matter how much of a novice you were.
“I wouldn’t need to if you’d just move in to Dad’s house! It’s my home!” the kid almost shouted.
“I know it is,” Shane said evenly. “But living there isn’t going to be feasible for the two of us.”
“Why not?” Drew shook his head, becoming more upset. “It’s, like, seven thousand square feet! We could go for freakin’ days without seein’ each other!”
“That’s part of the problem, son—”
“I am not your son!” he yelled, jabbing his finger in Shane’s face. “You’re not my dad!”
“I know that.” Deep breaths. You expected this, and you can handle it. “I’m your friend . . . your mentor. But I’m also an adult, your legal guardian, and I have to do what I think is best for you.”
“Even if I fuckin’ hate it,” the teen spat.
“Even if you fuckin’ hate it.” That got the boy’s attention, and he visibly struggled with his emotions. Shane softened his voice. “I know this is hard on you, so many changes at once. But I’m hoping you’ll meet me halfway.”
The kid tried to stare him down, but it obviously didn’t take him long to realize that tactic wasn’t going to work on a cop.
“Whatever.” Drew kicked angrily at a rock, scowling. “It’s not like I have that many friends at the academy anyhow.”
That surprised him. “Why do you say that?”
“Those rich asswipes mostly just care about who’s who, you know? I know they only like me because I’m Brad Cooper’s son.”
“That’s pretty cynical for a guy your age.”
Again with the shrug. They were going to have to work on that.
“You never said when I have to start school.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought,” he said carefully. “This week is going to be rough for both of us, with the funeral and getting you moved. I think next week is soon enough.”
“You’re not driving me, are you?”
The question was edged with such teenage angst, he almost smiled. “I take it that would be too lame?”
“Totally,” the boy agreed, rolling his eyes. “I usually take the shuttle from the academy.”
“Well, I’m sure the school district has a bus run out here. I’ll check on the schedule this week.”
“Or you could just let me get my driver’s license . . .”
At the hopeful suggestion, he gave in to the smile that had threatened. “Not yet. Your dad and I specifically talked about this. I know he wanted you to finish your junior year, and getting your license depended on your grades.”
“But you’re in charge now. Remember?”
“That’s right. And because I am, I’m carrying out your dad’s wishes.” At the boy’s protest, he held up a hand. “You make good grades, then we’ll sign you up for a summer driver’s course, get your license, and see about getting you something to drive. Something affordable and sane.”
“That sucks,” the teen grumbled.
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.”
As they walked on, Shane felt a sense of accomplishment at winning rounds one and two. But deep down, he knew in his gut that had been much too easy. That feeling wasn’t going to last.
This week would mark the start of the rest of their lives. Futures forever changed. These would be the hardest days Shane had endured since the deaths of his parents. For Drew, they’d be the worst ever endured in his young life.
Shane knew the boy was still in shock, unable to grasp that his dad really was gone. Today’s conversation proved it—the boy was angry one minute, something approaching normal the next. He was struggling to make sense of a horrible, permanent hole in his heart.
He just prayed he could catch Drew when he fell.
• • •
Daisy managed to stay away all day Saturday and Sunday. She probably would have stayed away indefinitely—if it hadn’t been for that kiss.
The memory of it was inescapable, not that she’d tried to run. Though she should, far and fast. However, she couldn’t stop thinking of the naked vulnerability on Shane’s face before she’d left. The pain. That’s what lured her back now. The idea that Shane needed her, that he might not run this time.
If she escaped making a fool of herself, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
The late-afternoon sun was slanting through the trees, sending shadows across the yard. It would be dark soon, which was why she’d taken off a little early. In the winter, it always seemed later than it was.
She rang the doorbell and waited. Voices could be heard inside from the TV, and there was a lingering aroma of something cooking. Then the door opened to reveal Drew, gazing at her, unsmiling.
“Hey,” he said, stepping back. “Shane’s in the kitchen.”
Then he turned and left her standing there, returning to flop on the sofa and grab the remote. O-kay. Seemed the kid was going to be a tough nut to crack. Maybe more so than his guardian.
“Thanks.” Shouldering her purse, she walked to the kitchen, where Shane was stirring something in a pot on the stove.
“Who was at the door?”
“Me.”
Whipping his head around, he smiled. “Oh, hey! Sit down. Would you like a beer?”
“I’d love one, thanks.”
Tapping the spoon on the edge of the pot, he laid it down and wiped his hands on a towel. Then he fished two bottles from the fridge, twisted the top off one, and handed it to her. “How were things in the trenches today?”
“The usual,” she told him, then took a sip. “Two drug arrests at the high school, both of the kids sixteen. An assault—a dad who punched his daughter. Enough about that. How are you two holding up?”
His expression sobered. “Not too well,” he said quietly, with a glance toward the living room. “He’s slowly shutting me out, becoming withdrawn. There’s a lot of anger, denial.”
“If you need the name of a juvenile counselor, I’ve got a couple of good ones.”
“I’m thinking that’s not a bad idea.”
She nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow with the names. Any word from the ME on Brad’s report?”
“We’re still waiting, but I’m expecting a call any
time. Detective Lacey from the Nashville PD phoned yesterday and said Eden had to work all weekend because of some extra stuff that came up.”
“He didn’t say what?”
“No, and it’s driving me crazy.” He gestured to the pot. “I made some chili, if I could persuade you to join us.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I made way too much, and besides . . . I like having you here.” A small smile curved his lips, and her stomach fluttered.
“In that case, I’d love to.”
“Drew, dinner’s ready,” he called. Obviously worried, he stared at the doorway until the boy came in. Then he visibly relaxed some. “Would you set the table, please?”
The teen rolled his eyes but did as he was told. None too gracefully, though. He yanked three bowls and three small plates from the cabinet, then let the door slam shut. Ignoring Shane’s stern frown, he slapped the dishware on the table, then went for the spoons with a noisy rattle.
“Attitude check, kiddo.”
“Whatever.”
Daisy could feel the tension between the two of them just about shoot through the roof. She felt sorry for them both, and could identify with each of them as well. They both looked haggard, dark circles under their eyes from little sleep. Shane hadn’t shaved, apparently, since she’d seen him last, and his mouth was lined with fatigue. He carried a platter of cornbread to the table and practically collapsed in his chair.
“Let’s eat,” he said.
They sat, grabbing pieces of cornbread, and Shane served the thick, delicious-smelling chili. Daisy and Shane dug in, but Drew mostly picked at his. After taking a few bites of cornbread and not much more than that of his chili, he carried his plate and bowl to the sink.
“I wish you’d eat a little more—”
“I’m full. Check ya later.”
After the boy left, Shane’s shoulders slumped. “I’m at a total loss with him. We usually get along great, and now it’s like we’re strangers.”
“Give him time,” she said softly. “It’s been only three days.”
