Chapter 17

Quinn listened with half an ear as Max told Monty about the kinds of plants one of his favorite dinosaurs liked to eat.

Their lunch had arrived, and she’d been picking at her meal, taking small bites of her burger and nibbling on a few of her fries as her thoughts kept drifting to Rock and the way he’d walked out of the bar.

He’d looked almost sad, and she’d wanted to text him to ask if he was all right. She didn’t know what was going on with him. In the last few days before Monty had arrived, he’d texted or called her several times throughout the day, but since her ex had shown up, she hadn’t heard a single thing from him.

Was the memory of her being with Monty too much for him? Or was he just trying to give her some space? Or had this whole thing reached a new level of complicated and he’d decided he didn’t want any part of it?

“You folks ready for some dessert?” the waitress asked, breaking into Quinn’s thoughts.

She shook her head. “No, I think we’re good.”

“I’ll just leave this here then.” She set the check on the side of the table.

Monty reached in his back pocket, then frowned. “Aw crap. I must have left my wallet on my dresser at my brother’s house.”

Really?

She leaned back in her chair, waiting to see how he would spin this as she mentally calculated how much the bill would total. She had her tips from the day before in her purse and probably had just enough to cover it.

He pulled his phone out. “Let me give him a call and have him run it over here.” He paused. “Although it will probably take him a good thirty minutes to get it here.” He tapped the phone on his lips as if in deep thought. “And I’m not sure if he’s working today.”

She sighed and reached for her purse. “It’s okay. I think I’ve got it.”

“No. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can get someone in my family to drive my wallet over here.”

She was tempted to let him try just so she could watch him attempt to get one of his lazy-ass family members to find his wallet and make the fifteen-minute drive over here, but she knew it would be an exercise in futility.

“I can pay for it,” Max said. “I have money saved up.”

That did it. She couldn’t very well force Monty’s hand now. Not after her sweet, generous eight-year-old son had offered to pick up the tab.

“It’s all right, Max. I can pay for it,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “You keep your money.”

“Sorry about that,” Monty told her. “I’ll get the next one.”

Great. She couldn’t wait.

And she’d just started to think that maybe he had changed.

Max wanted to stop at the park on the way home, and as tired as she was, she was glad to have him run off some of his extra energy.

“You guys go ahead,” she told them as she sank onto a park bench next to the playground. “I’ll just watch.”

At least her headache had gone away.

And it was a nice summer day to sit on a park bench. Although she would prefer it if she wasn’t sitting here watching her son run around the playground with the man who had walked out of their lives and, up until a few days ago, had decided he didn’t want anything to do with them.

After about half an hour, she waved them over and told them it was time to go, that Max needed some downtime. She could tell when he started getting too silly or giggly that it was time for a break and to slow things down.

Plus, she’d had about all the family bonding time she could handle.

As much as she wanted to give her son a chance to know his father, it was hard to watch him idolize the man who had ignored him for the past eight years. Especially since Max was acting like Monty freaking walked on water.

Maybe she should’ve handed him her bottle of water and let him turn it into wine. Now, that was a skill that would make the time spent hanging out with her ex worth it.

She still couldn’t figure Monty out. She studied him as he drove them back to the ranch.

He did seem different. He was being surprisingly patient with Max and hadn’t bailed on him yet. He’d patiently pushed him on the swings and spent way too long—in her opinion—searching the stream next to the park for perfect specimens of rocks. But it was easy to be patient for a few hours over the course of a few days.

Although he did seem to be genuinely interested in spending time with Max. Of course, Max was still acting shy and on his best behavior around him. Monty hadn’t had to deal with a too-tired meltdown or a bout of vomit.

Monty pulled up in front of the house and got out.

Hmm. She had assumed he would just drop them off, but he seemed determined to continue the day. Maybe he needed a real challenge.

Although spending twenty minutes searching for rocks had been a pretty good one. And he’d done fine with that.

“Max needs to take a break. We usually spend a little time reading in the afternoon, if you want to read him a book.” She was sure he’d be ready to leave after reading one chapter of a middle-grade book.

“Sure. I can do that,” he said. “You want me to read you a book, Max?”

“Yeah.” Max raced for his room, and she and Monty trailed after him.

Max pored over his extensive selection of books and finally settled on one of his favorites. “This one. It’s about these four kids who travel through time and solve mysteries.” He handed the book to his father.

“Sounds good.”

She was thankful Monty had pulled up the rocking chair next to Max’s bed. She didn’t think she could handle it if she had to watch Max curl up next to him as he read.

Although that’s what he’d done with Rock earlier that week.

But it was different with Rock.

Wasn’t it?

The thought of Max curled up next to Monty as he read to him filled her with unease and wariness, yet when Rock was reading to him, it filled her with something very close to happiness. Maybe because way down in her secret heart of hearts, the scene with Rock was the one she wished were true.

The scene that portrayed the three of them as a family. A real family.

Emotion flooded her throat, and she stepped out of Max’s room and into the hallway. Flattening her back against the wall, she slid to the floor, listening as Monty read the book to her son, their son.

She let out a weary sigh and dropped her chin to her chest. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on taking some deep, cleansing breaths. She could get through this.

It took only five minutes to read a chapter. She could get through another five minutes.

She cocked an ear as she heard Monty get to the end of the chapter. Maybe now he would go home.

Nope. He started the next one. Geez. Was he going to read the whole book?

Apparently so.

Thirty minutes later, he emerged from Max’s room, his eyes widening when he saw her sitting on the floor in the hallway.

“What are you doing out here?”

She shrugged. “Just listening.”

His brows knit together for the briefest of seconds, then he quickly smoothed his features back into a pleasant smile.

Or maybe they hadn’t. Now she wasn’t sure. It had happened so fast. Maybe she was just imagining his reaction—projecting her assumptions of how she thought he would react. She’d anticipated that he would be bothered by her constantly keeping an eye on them, but maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he really had changed.

“He fell asleep,” he told her.

“You read to him for a long time. I was surprised you lasted that long.”

He lifted one shoulder. “It was an interesting book. And he seemed to really be involved in the story.”

“He loves that one.” She pushed up off the floor, stretching her sore muscles as she walked toward the front door. “Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem. It was fun.” He put his hand on the screen door, then turned back to look at her. “I really have changed. I just want a chance to get to know my son.”

Then where have you been the last eight years? She bit back the response that she really wanted to say, too tired to get into an argument now. Plus, he did seem different. She wanted to believe him. To believe in him. For Max’s sake. “I hope so. Because he’s a really great kid.”

“I know.” He glanced down the hallway toward Max’s room and looked as if he were going to say something else about him, then changed his mind. “See ya tomorrow. Ice skating, right?”

“Yep.”

Another day of family fun. She couldn’t wait.

* * *

The next day, Rock gripped Max’s hand as they stepped out on the ice.

He hadn’t been on skates in over two weeks, but the feeling of the hard surface under the blades of his skates felt like coming home.

So did being on the ice in his hometown rink. And having Quinn watching him from the bleachers.

But having a large banner on the wall with his name on it was new. And seeing it still made him feel a little funny, giving him a feeling that was a mixture of pride and humility.

Thanks to him, the rink had gone through some major updates, getting some much-needed renovations and a new sheet of ice a few years ago. It was the least he could do. This rink and the pond in their pasture were the places he’d learned to skate, where he had spent hours practicing his skating and stick-handling skills.

It had been old then, the ice buckled and the boards uneven in a couple of spots, but it was the best they had, and he’d always told himself that if he ever made it big, he’d fix up the old rink for the next generation of skaters.

And that’s what he’d done. When he’d signed a new contract a few years ago, he’d donated a large portion of the money it took to make the renovations.

And today, leading Max out onto the ice for the first time made every penny worth it.

The boy’s face shone with excitement and terror as he clutched Rock’s arms, wobbling forward and trying to keep his balance.

Rock chuckled, skating backward with ease, his feet and legs as at home on the ice as if he were wearing a pair of sneakers. “Broaden your stance and bend your knees. Don’t feel bad about putting your arms out for balance,” he told Max.

“Like this?” Max held one arm straight out.

“Yep, you got it.” He guided the boy around the rink a few times, then over to a pair of five-gallon buckets stacked on top of each other. The buckets were a common tool used in ice skating lessons, giving the kids stability as they learned the feel of the skates.

“You can hold on to the buckets and skate behind them at your own pace,” he instructed. “I know it feels funny, and your feet might hurt a little, but I tied your skates so tight so you would have ankle support. It will help, I promise.”

“They aren’t too tight. They feel good.”

He’d been tempted to bring an old pair of his skates from when he was a kid, but he wasn’t sure if they would fit and wanted Max’s first skating experience to be a good one. Part of the rink’s renovation project had involved ordering in new skates in both the figure skating and the hockey skating styles, so Rock was sure they would have a pair for Max to use.

“I think I’m getting it,” Max said, a smile beaming from his face.

Rock loved the kid’s enthusiasm. Nothing shook him.

“Take it slow. And don’t be afraid to fall.” He glanced up to where Quinn and Monty were sitting in the bleachers.

Monty had declined to skate, claiming he had a bad ankle from an old football injury.

Yeah, right. Rock thought he just didn’t know how to skate and didn’t want to look like an idiot. But it was fine with him that the guy offered to just watch from the bleachers.

Or at least it had been until Quinn said she wasn’t going to skate either and would just sit in the bleachers with him.

Why would she choose sitting out with Monty over skating with him and Max?

Maybe the guy really had changed, and she was starting to see the good in him.

Wasn’t this what Rock wanted? The whole reason he was backing off and giving her space—so Max could get to know his real dad, and she and Max could have a whole family?

Forget about that, he told himself, turning his attention back to the boy. This was about Max and teaching him how to skate. Not about him and Quinn.

He refocused on Max, offering encouragement and all of the lessons his coaches had taught him when he was a kid.

Max soaked it all up, following every piece of advice Rock offered. And he was doing great, really starting to get the hang of it.

And Rock was having fun, celebrating his small victories and laughing with Quinn as she called encouragement from the stands.

“He’s doing awesome,” he called out to her, offering her a smile and hoping for one in return.

“I know. He’s totally getting it.” She laughed and applauded as a grin split her face. A grin that felt like the moment the clouds drifted away on an overcast day and let the sun shine in.

“He’s a natural.” He pulled the bucket along, and Max skated behind it, barely needing the rim of it for balance.

“You’re doing good, champ. You don’t even need those stupid buckets,” Monty called.

“Ignore him,” Rock said, holding Max’s eye and fighting the slimy feeling running down his back at Monty’s fatherly endearment. “It’s fine to use the buckets until you get the hang of this. Skating can take time to learn, and for some things, it’s okay to go slow and take your time.”

He wished Monty would shut up. It was hard enough for a kid who was used to spending more time reading than running to pick up the skills, without having his newfound dad make him feel like he was not picking it up quickly enough.

The ice rink was slow that afternoon. Only a few other people were skating, and most were figure skaters who stayed in the center, practicing turns.

Rock had Max in the corner by himself as he worked on keeping his balance.

“You guys look great,” Quinn called out. “Keep it up, Max. You’re doing amazing. You got this.”

Memories of a teenaged Quinn cheering him on from the sidelines flooded his thoughts, memories so vivid they hurt his chest. That girl had meant everything to him. And he’d been such an idiot for letting her go.

He knew he should stay focused on Max, but the need to hear her cheering for him again was too strong. He skated backward, doing a quick circle and hitting Max’s legs with a small spray of ice as he maneuvered a hockey stop.

Max giggled and laughed, and Quinn let out a cheer. “Nice moves, Rock.” Her laughter and teasing spurred him on, and he knew he was showing off for her. Just a little. But his skills had improved since she’d last seen him skate.

It wouldn’t hurt anything to give her a tiny show. And if it made Monty jealous in the process, then it would be even better.

He grinned down at Max. “You want to see how fast I can skate?”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hold on to the bucket. I’ll be right back.” He skated backward for a few feet. “You watching?”

Max grinned and bobbed his head.

Rock spun around and took off, circling the ice, his feet flying as he crossed his skates to glide through the turns. He rounded the last corner and did another hockey stop, this time sending a spray of ice shooting toward Quinn and Monty.

He was rewarded with laughter from Quinn, applause from Max, and a scowl from Monty. Perfect.

“Do it again,” Max cried.

He had to admit, the speed skate felt good. He felt good. His blood was pumping from the expended energy and the attention of Quinn.

“Okay, one more time. But this time, I’ll go backward the whole way.” He scissored his feet, gaining momentum as he sped backward around the ice. On the far side of the rink, a young girl had strayed from the center, and he slowed to go around her, spinning in a circle around the girl and earning a giggle from her.

Was Quinn watching?

He glanced from the girl to the bleachers.

But Quinn’s attention was on the other side of the rink. He frowned as she stood up, a look of alarm on her face. “Be careful, Max,” he heard her call.

He whipped his head back just in time to see Max, one hand on the bucket and one on the wall as he pushed off from the side in order to gain momentum.

Monty had come down from the bleachers and was egging him on. “You can do it,” Rock heard him call.

Max was attempting to cross one foot over the other, just as Rock had done.

But his feet tangled, and his arms pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance.

As if in slow motion, Rock watched the buckets tip and the boy fall forward, hitting his face on the rim before the buckets shot away from him.

Max held out his hands to break his fall but still hit his chin, sending a bright-red spray of blood across the white sheet of ice.