Mind Games

He waited, heard the dog let out a woof as she walked to the door. Then she was inside.

He drove back down the lane, carried his sleeping boy into the house, and put him to bed.

* * *

Though the clock read closer to one, Bray remembered. As a promise mattered, Ty dragged himself up and gave his wide-awake son that nighttime swing.

Up on the rise, lights glimmered—those little lights she had on the trees on her front lawn, he thought, and a stronger one he thought must be from a window.

He wondered if Thea kept one on through the night, or if she worked late.

Either way, he liked seeing those lights shine from up the lane.

Chapter Nineteen

Through the long, bright days of July, Riggs stayed out of her head.

Thea decided if she could have dreamed a perfect summer, it would flow just like this one. Early mornings working in the gardens, then hours spent on a new project she believed in.

And now knew, from very personal experience, offered damn exciting gameplay.

Add flowers blooming in the sun, and soft rains slaking their thirst. They offered a bounty she could bring indoors and spread throughout her home.

And now and again, a wild and windy storm to blow in and leave the air sparkling clean.

She had her green hills with their mystical hint of blue rising, and wildflowers popping in sun spots on the floor of the woods.

Her quiet was disturbed in the best way with a boy’s giddy laughter or music, sometimes both, carrying up to her on warm breezes.

With all that, she could mark July down as close to idyllic.

True to his word, Ty had her, Lucy, and Rem for steaks on the grill. Rem brought sweet corn fresh from the field, and Thea new potatoes from her garden roasted in homemade butter.

But Lucy’s apple stack cake proved the biggest hit with the new neighbors.

“So yummy,” Bray declared, and stuffed more in his mouth. “Grammie cake is yum.”

“Grammie cake’s freaking awesome.”

Bray’s eyes danced as he echoed his father. “Freaking awesome.”

“Nobody makes an apple stack cake like Grammie,” Rem agreed. “Thea comes close, but Grammie sets the bar.”

“I’ve been making them, well, too many years to count. My mama taught me, then decided mine beat hers, so she said: Lucy, you top your mama, so that’s your doing now. I retire. God knows she had enough to handle after my daddy passed—young, like my Zachariah. The mines took them both young. So I did most of the baking.”

“You’re better at it than Gran. And if you tell her I said that,” Rem continued, “well, I’ll run for the hills.”

“Better run fast. She may not catch you, but if something comes to hand to throw, she’ll knock you flat. Always had an arm on her, and deadly aim with it.”

“Where is she now?” Ty asked.

“In Atlanta, living the high life with her second husband. Married, good lord, near to forty years now. A sweetheart of a man, and one with deep pockets who worships the ground she walks on.”

“And you stayed.”

“This is home for me. It never quite was for my mama after she lost Daddy. You’ll meet them at Christmas. Everyone comes for Christmas.”

“Santa comes here?”