Davey was sobbing quietly.
“Everything’s fine,” she repeated.
“Amber! Open up!” Trey pounded on the door again.
“Just a minute,” she called over her shoulder and then she frowned at Paul. “I’d appreciate it if you’d put your gun away.”
His eyes narrowed. He slid his weapon into a holster inside his jacket but kept his hand on it.
“Why don’t you just sit down,” she said quietly. “You’re scaring your son.” For whatever reason, she didn’t want Trey to come in and find this man an utter basket case, someone who should have his kid taken away from him.
Paul’s head drooped for a minute and pain crossed his face. “Sorry,” he said. He looked back at Davey and it was as if a switch flipped; he knelt and picked the boy up and held him close. “It’s okay, buddy. Everything’s okay.”
Curiosity licked at her. She waited until he’d sat down, Davey on his lap, before opening the door to her very tense, angry brother-in-law.
THE FEEL OF HIS SON in his lap—safe, warm, alive—helped Paul get his heartbeat back to something resembling normal.
He tried to make his face look normal, too, to stop sweating, but the big guy at the door was a cop and clearly on high alert. He’d almost certainly seen Paul’s weapon, because he was watching Paul with narrowed eyes. So was Amber.
Of course they’re watching you. You acted like a madman.
Just as he’d done on the job, leading him to be here in a little shore town in a program designed to help him heal.
At least Davey was calming down. Paul focused on his son, used a napkin to wipe his tears and held it to his nose. “Blow. Real hard. There you go.” He wiped Davey’s nose. “You’re fine. We’re all fine. Okay?”
Davey looked up at him and nodded, and Paul’s heart seemed to warm and grow. He didn’t deserve the trust in his son’s eyes, but he’d try to live up to it. He stroked Davey’s hair.
“Everything okay here?” the guy asked Amber.
“Yeah. I think so.” She backed away from the door and beckoned the guy to come farther in. Her hand was shaking. “Sorry to call you out so late, but Davey, here, came to visit me, and then his dad showed up a few minutes later.”
“Hey, buddy.” The cop walked slowly in their direction, smiling at Davey. He stopped a good eight feet away and knelt down, hand subtly near his waist where, almost certainly, a weapon was concealed. “My name’s Trey. I’m a police officer, just making sure everything’s okay.”
Davey looked up at Paul, his face solemn, and then back at Trey. “It’s okay. My daddy’s a cop, too.”
Paul blew out a breath and tried to smile at the officer. He shifted slowly, held out a hand. “Paul Thompson. Just moved into the cottage next door, and Davey took a notion to come outside while I was dozing on the couch.”
“Trey Harrison.” The officer stood, stepped closer and shook his hand, looking directly into Paul’s eyes. Then he refocused his attention on Davey. “It’s late to be outside by yourself. You’re, what, five?”
“Four.” Davey held up four fingers. “I have a birthday coming. Then I’ll be five.” He held up five fingers now, to illustrate.
“Wow,” Amber said, moving over to the counter and leaning against it. “Five is big.”
“Sure is,” the cop, Trey, agreed.
Davey nodded, his face solemn. “Daddy said I can have a party.”
Now that the immediate danger was past, shame licked at Paul’s insides. He was a poor excuse for a father, scaring his son like that, but he was all Davey had. And Davey couldn’t take another loss, not after losing his mother two years ago.
Paul’s whole life centered, now, around protecting his son.
“Daddy, you’re squeezing me,” Davey said.
Paul loosened his grip. “Sorry, kiddo. You had me scared.” He let Davey slide to the ground and watched him as he cuddled against Sarge. Thank heavens for his loyal former K-9 dog. How terrifying might Davey’s late-night excursion have been without the big bloodhound for company?
“Sit down, Trey. Want some coffee?” Without waiting for an answer, Amber turned and reached high for a cup, her sweatshirt rising to reveal a thin slice of skin above those skimpy leggings. Women shouldn’t wear them, Wendy had always said; she’d thought them too tight and revealing. Paul had agreed, just to keep the peace. He hadn’t been the best husband in the universe, but he’d known enough not to defend other women’s revealing clothing choices to his wife.
He looked away and realized that Trey had seen him checking her out. He hadn’t been, not really. He’d just noticed what any guy would notice, probably including her brother-in-law. Still, his face heated. He didn’t need to add “creepy old guy” to the list Trey was no doubt making in his head.
Not that he was that much older than Amber. Ten years, at the most.
But ten years could be a lifetime.
Amber put coffee in front of Trey and then looked at Paul. “Want a refill of hot chocolate? Or some coffee?” She glanced down at Davey. “I’m thinking he won’t need a refill.”
Indeed, Davey was resting his head on Sarge now, his eyelids fluttering like he could barely keep them open.
“Thanks, I’ll just finish this off.” He wrapped a hand around the still-warm mug.
Trey pulled out his phone and started texting. Apparently, he’d decided Paul wasn’t an immediate threat. “Letting Erica know everything’s settled down,” he said to Amber. “She’s worried.”
“Take a pic so she knows I’m okay,” Amber said, and struck a pose, her own coffee cup lifted in a toast, pasting on a big smile. “And then I’ll
