Mind Games

Something with a good-sized yard, a quiet, kid-friendly neighborhood. He’d contacted his Realtor, put her on the hunt, so they’d see there.

He wouldn’t uproot Bray until he had the house, and even then not until the end of the school term.

Packing up wouldn’t be that hard. He’d sell the house furnished. What the hell did he care?

But they couldn’t stay here. This was her place, full of her people.

The woman who’d broken his goddamn heart.

He needed to have the locks changed, another pain in his ass. But he couldn’t risk going out for a damn quart of milk without wondering if she’d let herself in.

How could he have been so wrong about her? That single question hounded him.

She had pictures of his son. God, she’d taken pictures at the birthday party, when Bray had first climbed all over his play set. Pictures of Bray with her dog.

How stupid had he been to let her take pictures, pictures she could sell?

Maybe that didn’t sound like her. Maybe there was a place deep in his gut that didn’t believe it of her. He had to ignore that, because facts were facts.

He’d fallen for her, and so had Bray. And he’d thought …

Didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter what he’d thought.

And right now he had a kid home from school—just sick enough for staying home with a fever of 100.2 that morning. But not sick enough by midmorning—down to 98.9—to stay in bed and sleep, or eat some canned soup and watch TV.

“I want Bunk to come.”

Ty looked down at his son, his heart, the center of his world, and wished he’d just shut the hell up.

“He can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re sick, remember? You’ve got germs.”

“I feel better, and dogs don’t care ’bout germs.”

“I care. Go play with the racetrack I set up for you.”

“I don’t wanna. I wanna see Bunk. I’m hungry. I want Thea to make me pancakes. She promised!”

Around and around, Ty thought, went this particular, irritating loop. “She can’t. She’s working.”

“I wanna go to her house. I wanna go see Grammie. I wanna see the chickens.”

Ty dragged more books off the shelves it seemed he’d just put on them. “To quote a classic, pal, you can’t always get what you want.”

“Why? I want pancakes. Thea’s pancakes.”

“Well, you’re not getting them. I’ll make you a jelly sandwich.”

“No, Daddy!”

When the tears started, Ty wondered if beating his head against the wall would work.

“Braydon, I said she’s busy.”

“We can call her.”