DEACON TOOK HAZEL—and Otis—through some basic training. He explained to Hazel that when you trained a dog, you didn’t want to overwhelm them. It was best to teach them only a couple of things, and then, once they grasped those, move on to new tasks.

Fortunately, Otis was a smart dog, so he had pretty much mastered sit and stay by the time Loretta called them in for dinner.

“That’s good enough for today,” he told Hazel as they walked toward the house. “And you need to keep him out of your room. He ate one of your books.”

Hazel scrunched her nose. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-oh. Was Mama mad?”

“She didn’t seem too mad, but if he keeps eating things he shouldn’t, she’ll probably start getting mad about it, don’t you think?”

“Probably.”

“It’s best to limit his areas until he understands what’s his stuff and what’s your stuff and your mom’s stuff. Outside and maybe living room for now.”

Hazel nodded. “Okay. And maybe after he’s like totally trained he could sleep in my room?”

“After he’s trained. You also need to play with him a lot, run off his excess energy, and use his toys for fetching and tug-of-war and things like that. When he plays with his toys, praise him.”

“Got it. I’m hungry. Are you hungry? You wanna come wash your hands with me?”

He loved how a kid’s mind worked. He knew Hazel had been listening, but then her mind could immediately switch gears to food.

He had Hazel give Otis the sit and stay commands in the living room so they could test him, then they went into her bathroom and washed their hands. When they came out, Otis was still patiently sitting in the middle of the living room.

“He did it,” Hazel said, giving Deacon a happy smile.

“Yup. You can release him now and give him a treat.”

While she did, Deacon went into the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”

“It’s the biscuits. How did Otis do?”

“Very well. I’ll let Hazel tell you about it.”

“I can’t wait.”

“What can I do to help you?”

She turned to look at him. “Um, you can carry the biscuits to the table, because the stew’s ready to eat.”

Since Loretta had already set the table, he guessed there wasn’t much else he could do to assist.

“Me and Deacon already washed our hands, Mama,” Hazel said as she took a seat at the long bench at the table.

“That’s good.”

Otis propped his head on the kitchen table, obviously waiting for his bowl.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Loretta said.

Deacon got up and called the dog into the living room, then told him to sit and stay. Otis didn’t seem too happy about that idea, because he didn’t stay the first time. In fact, it took Deacon several tries and the liver treats he’d brought along, but eventually Otis stayed, and Deacon made his way back to the table.

“Thank you,” Loretta said.

“He really likes the smell of our food,” Hazel said.

“I’m sure he does,” Deacon said. “But a dog doesn’t belong at the kitchen table at dinnertime. You’ll have to work very hard with him on that, Hazel.”

She nodded. “Okay, I will.”

She was a good kid, and she didn’t mind being told what to do. Obviously a product of her upbringing. Or at least of Loretta’s influence.

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Deacon said as he laid the napkin in his lap.

“It’s the least I could do, since you’re helping us to train Otis. And since you’re going to repair so many things around this place.”

Hazel turned wide eyes to Deacon. “You’re gonna fix some stuff around here?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s so cool. My bedroom window leaks air and sounds like ghosts whistling at night. It’s kinda scary.”

Deacon’s lips curved. “I promise to take care of that.”

Dinner was good, and Deacon had to admit, it felt kind of nice to eat a home-cooked meal. He ate at his mom’s house once a week, but this was different. He liked Hazel, and though he would have never expected he would be sitting across the table sharing a meal with Loretta, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d thought it might be.

Loretta engaged Hazel in conversation about Otis, and Hazel was definitely a talker, so there were never any uncomfortable silences. Hazel talked to him, and Loretta did, too. It was obvious Loretta was trying her best to make Deacon feel welcome.

“How long is your job at the old Harden building supposed to last, Deacon?” Loretta asked.

“Three months. That should give us plenty of time to finish putting up the new walls, add in all the HVAC, electrical, and plumbing, and then put in new flooring and paint.”

“I’m looking forward to you being finished.”

He laid his spoon down. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Your noise, yes.”

“It hasn’t been all that bad since we finished demo, has it?”

“Okay, not that bad.”

“Mama, I’m finished eating,” Hazel said. “Can I go practice with Otis now?”

“Yes, you may. Take your bowl and plate to the sink. And work with Otis outside.”

Hazel nodded. “I will. Thanks for coming over tonight, Deacon. Will you be by tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll see you when I’m at work, right?”

“For. Sure.” She giggled and wandered off to rinse her plate and bowl, then loaded them in the dishwasher before she ran out the door with Otis.

“She’s a great kid, Loretta.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

“Does Tom have visitation?”

“He does. Not that he uses it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine having a kid and not wanting to see her.”

“He’s running for Congress, and that’s occupying a lot of his time. That, and his new, pregnant wife.”

It took a few seconds to let what she’d said soak in. “Whoa. What?”

She waved her hand and got up from the table. “Nothing you want to hear about.”

He carried his dishes to the sink. “I wanna hear about it.”

She shook her head. “I made that bed, Deacon. Unfortunately, Hazel is the one paying for my mistake.”

She had turned on the water to rinse the dishes, and it was obvious this was a tender topic. So he let it drop—for now—and asked her where the storage containers were so he could dump the rest of the stew from the pot in it.

“Would you like to take some home with you?” she asked. “I made plenty.”

“I’m sure you want to freeze that for you and Hazel.”

“Like I said, I made plenty for all of us. Grab those two containers down there, along with the matching red lids.”

He did, then poured equal amounts in both and put them in the freezer. Then he nudged her out of the way so he could wash the pot.

“That is totally unnecessary,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’m washing it, so don’t argue with me about it.”

“Fine.”

She bagged a couple of the biscuits and set those on the counter, then she wiped up the kitchen table while he finished up the pot and laid it in the rack to dry.

“See? Done already,” he said.

“I put those biscuits aside for you to take home. And you can take one of the containers of stew.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. The only home cooking I get is once a week at Mom’s.”

She turned and leaned against the kitchen counter. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Good. She’s still working at the energy company in Tulsa, with no plans to retire anytime soon.”

“Is she still living in Tulsa?”

He nodded. “She really likes it there. She and Phil are doing great. They’ll celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary this year.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it’s been fifteen years for them.”

“Yeah.”

“She always did like the city. That was the problem between your parents before the divorce. Your dad was a farm guy, and she was a city girl.”

“Yup. They were much happier after they split. Too bad my dad didn’t live long enough to get to enjoy retirement on the farm.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Deacon.”

“Yeah, me, too. But for as long as he lived, he was happy, so that counts for something, I guess.”

“It should. Happiness definitely makes a difference.”

“So they say. I think I’ll see how Hazel’s doing with Otis before I go.”

“Sure. I’ll go with you.”

As they walked outside, he realized both of them had shit they didn’t want to talk about. Even though it had been a lot of years since his dad had died, he still missed him, still wished they’d had more years together.

Hazel was outside with Otis, who was sitting about twenty feet in front of her while Hazel slowly backed away from him.

He had to give the kid credit. Most kids liked the idea of having a dog and training it—in theory. The actual practice of it was something else.

Deacon held Loretta back. “Let’s watch.”

Hazel seemed determined, even when Otis bounded off toward her. She walked him back to the spot and told him to sit. When he did, she gave him the stay command and walked away again. And then again. And again. She never seemed to get tired or distracted, and when Otis finally stayed for a good thirty seconds, she called him to her and praised him.

“She’s good with him.”

“I told you, she loves animals.” Loretta called out Hazel’s name, and she came running over with a huge smile on her face.

“Did you see Otis? He did good.”

Loretta nodded and smiled at her. “You both did good. Now if only we could keep him from chewing up things in the house.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to work on that part.”

Deacon laughed. “Keep him out of your room. That’ll probably help some.”

“Probably.”

“Time for you to take a shower and get ready for bed,” Loretta said.

“Okay. See ya, Deacon. Come on, Otis.”

“Bye, Hazel.”

After Hazel and Otis ran off, Deacon turned to Loretta. “I should get going.”

She walked with him into the house, reaching into the freezer for the leftover stew. She put it in a grocery bag, along with the biscuits. “Thanks again for helping Hazel with Otis.”

“No problem. I’ll make up a list of the things that need to be fixed around here and come up with an estimate for you.”

They headed outside to where his truck was parked. “Are you sure the extra work isn’t going to be a burden?” Loretta asked.

He put the grocery bag on the passenger seat, then turned to her. “Not at all.”

“Thank you, Deacon. It means a lot to me, and to Hazel, that you’re willing to help us.”

When Loretta lifted her gaze to his, he was lost in the depths of those amber eyes. And suddenly it was like all those years had evaporated and they were behind the bleachers again. He remembered the first time he had pulled her into his arms, the first time he’d kissed her. She’d been fifteen and he’d been sixteen.

She’d been soft and pliant, and she had leaned against him, her fingers clutching his shirt like she was going to fall if she wasn’t holding on to him.

Damn, that had been a good feeling.

He could still remember how she had tasted. Like bubblegum and soft lips, all tentative but eager at the same time. They’d both been a little awkward, but it had been so good. Really damn good.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

He shook himself out of that memory and nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He slid into his truck, angry with himself for going back there, for letting himself remember the sweetness of her taste. He put the truck in reverse and got the hell out of there, putting himself firmly in the now.

Now was where he belonged, and as he drove home he dredged up memories of betrayal, of hurt, of how she’d broken him when she’d told him she didn’t love him anymore. That bitterness tasted sour on his tongue, obliterating those sweet memories in an instant.

Yeah, that’s where he belonged—in the real world. And that’s where he intended to stay.