“We didn’t get that far,” he grumbled.
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stared at his ma’s back.
She swiveled, wooden spoon pointing at him. “You two never get to the truth, or the core issue. When was the last time you two had a father to daughter talk? Just went out and had some fun?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came. He had no answer. “Look, I know I’m not what she needs—”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” She slid the egg onto a plate, added a piece of toast and took the plate to him. She sat down across from him. “What I’m saying is that I know a thing or two about parenting and it’s hard. We try to balance things, but it doesn’t always work, especially when we’re trying to run a household and hold down a job. That child is hurt, and you need to figure out why. Find the time.”
He forked up a piece of egg, shoved it into his mouth then nodded. “I see your point.”
The back door came flying open. Hank strolled in, swiped off his black Stetson and stuck it on the L hook. He, Boone and Creed were all about the same height and weight but Hank kept his hair high and tight, and he was missing a few fingers from his left hand from his days as an Explosive Ordinance Disposal Specialist in the Army. He came home, battled a case of PTSD, then opened Pelican Hawke. When he wasn’t at the bar, Hank was working the land at the family farm and volunteering at Hawke Landing. Turning forty in May, he was looking more and more like their father, Damon Hawke. He’d been their superhero, taught his boys everything about the land and unfortunately had passed away too soon.
“I smell some good cooking.” Hank pushed out his stomach and rubbed the pouch theatrically.
Creed was glad for the distraction.
Abby stood and gave Hank a hug. “Hungry, son?”
“I could eat a horse.” He pulled out the chair across from Creed. “But not that new mare you just bought, bro. I could use her bones as toothpicks. I swear she hissed at me when I got close to her this morning. She refused to eat too. What did the vet say about her health?”
“Doc won’t be out until later to check her over. I’ll bet it’s more psychosomatic than physical. That bastard who owned her before abused her.” When it had come to Creed’s attention that the horse was being abused, he talked the previous owner into selling the mare for a hefty price. That’s one thing Creed couldn’t tolerate…the abuse of an animal. “Don’t give up on her, Hank. You watch and see. She’s got it in her to make a damn good asset on the farm.”
Abby set a full plate in front of Hank. “Thanks, Ma.” He plowed through the eggs and bacon, downed it with his coffee, then licked his fingers. “What are your plans today?” He directed his curious, Hawke-renowned-blue eyes on Creed.
“I have to stop over at Sage Ranch and do a couple things. I’ll be back this afternoon. I need to get moving.” He pushed the chair back and stood.
“Not so fast, son.” Abby had made another plate and handed it to him. “Go feed your daughter.”
There was no use in arguing. Grabbing his hat and shoving it on his head, he took the plate and headed upstairs. At Livvy’s closed door, he knocked, and pretty much what he had expected, she yelled, “Go away!”
“I have breakfast for you.”
A few long seconds passed. “What is it?”
“Eggs, bacon and toast.”
“Do you forget everything? I’m a pescatarian.”
“A pesca-what?”
“Pescatarian. I don’t eat meat except for fish.”
“Since when?”
“A month ago.”
With a shrug, he grabbed the slice of bacon off the plate and shoved it into his mouth. “It’s now a pescatarian plate,” he said around his mouth full. “Unless you don’t eat eggs either.”
Ten seconds lapsed until finally the lock clicked and the door came open. She slanted her gaze through the three-inch crack and shot invisible torpedoes at him. “I eat eggs. And this doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you,” she muttered, opened the door wide and grabbed the plate.
“I didn’t think so, but can I come in?”
She went to the bed and sat cross legged on the colorful blanket. Music played from the speaker on her shelf and a book was open on her nightstand. He picked it up and read the cover. “This any good?”
“If you like books about teen girls who are being imprisoned in their home. It’s right up your alley.”
“Okay then.” He set the book aside and sat down on the end of the bed. “Why did you sneak out?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She scooped up egg onto her toast.
“It matters.”
“Does that mean you’ll consider giving me my phone back?” She paused with the fork in the air.
“No. You’ll still be disciplined.” Her frown returned. “But why would you risk getting into trouble?”
She set her plate to the side and clasped her hands in her lap. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
With a nibble at the corner of her lips, she finally said, “I needed to see Alex.”
The fourteen-year-old was Livvy’s best friend since kindergarten. Creed liked the kid and he had good parents, but that didn’t mean his daughter could sneak out to see him. Feeling a familiar stab in the center of his chest, Creed rubbed his forehead. He understood friendships and the importance of them. “Alex couldn’t come to the house? Did he sneak out too?”
In that instant he saw her wall come back up. “No, Alex doesn’t have to sneak out because he doesn’t have prison guards as parents.” She grabbed her Air pods, stuck them in her ears and closed
