Chapter 16

Quinn brushed the crumbs from the counter into the sink. “I’m cleaning the kitchen. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You know darn well what I’m talking about. What the hell do you think you’re doing letting that dirtbag Hill back into your and Max’s lives?”

“I didn’t let him do anything. He just showed up today.”

“You didn’t call him? I know Max has been asking about him a lot lately.”

“Hell no, I didn’t call him. I don’t even have a number for him. I didn’t even know where he was living. I’m just as surprised as you are to see him.”

“Why is he here? And better yet. What does he want?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really know. He said all he wants is a chance to get to know Max.”

“Horse pucky. I don’t believe it. There has to be something else to it.”

“He claims that he recently found religion.” She picked up the dish towel and dried her hands.

“He’s about to find my size-12 boot up his ass.” He snatched the toothpick holder from the counter, shook one out, and clamped it between his teeth. “And I don’t buy that story for a minute. Surely you’re not falling for this guy’s line of bull?”

“No, I’m not falling for anything. I’m simply giving my son a chance to get to know his father.”

Ham shook his head, gnawing the toothpick flat between his teeth. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re thinking lately. First, you start up again with that no-good James boy—”

“Oh brother. Dad, you’ve known Rock since he was a kid.” Her head was spinning. How had this conversation just switched from her letting Monty back into Max’s life to her starting back up again with Rock?

“Yeah, well, I also know that he left you high and dry and brokenhearted when you two were kids, and I know that I’ve never seen you cry over anything as hard or as much as you did over that boy leaving. That’s a hard thing for a father to forget. And to forgive.”

Wow. That was the closest thing to an emotional sentiment that she’d heard from her dad in a long time.

“Well, it’s not your cross to bear or your offense to forgive. It’s my burden, my broken heart, and my choice. If I’ve learned anything over the last eight years, it’s that holding on to old hurts doesn’t do anyone any good. Holding a grudge doesn’t help anything or anyone. And what am I teaching my son if I tell him he should forgive people who show genuine remorse and say they’re sorry if I’m not willing to do that myself?”

Ham grunted and switched the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “I guess I can concede that. With Rockford, anyhow. At least he comes from good stock. I know his mama taught him better.”

She raised an eyebrow and waited to see if he could hold a straight face while talking about Vivi. Rock had told her about his mom sneaking out of their house the other morning. It hadn’t surprised her. She’d suspected something between the two for years.

The subject of Vivi must not have been enough to hold his attention right now, because he switched back to Max’s father. “But I have a harder time accepting any kind of forgiveness for this idiot Hill. Rock was a kid when he left, and he took off to have a career. Hill is a man, and not only did he abandon his kid and his responsibilities, he’s spent the better part of my grandson’s life denouncing that he even existed. His own flesh and blood. That’s a much worse crime in my book.”

A hard ball of anger and hurt built in her stomach, but she fought to give it any kind of leverage. She needed to stand her ground. “I agree, and I’m not arguing that point. I’m just saying, what kind of person does that make me if I tell my son to do something I’m not willing to do myself?” She still held the dish towel, and she twisted it in her hands. “Did you hear him at supper tonight? He’s so excited that Monty is here. He thought I was mad at him.”

Ham let out a weary sigh. “Yeah, I heard him.”

“So, how am I supposed to deal with that? I can’t punish my son for the sins of his father. And I can’t let Max think I’m upset with him when I’m really pissed as hell at his father. And what if he really has changed?”

Her dad arched an eyebrow at her. “I find that highly unlikely. But I see your point. And as hard as it is to bear, it’s probably better that Max sees for himself what kind of man Hill really is.” He pinched the end of the toothpick between his fingers and snapped it in half. “But I swear to you, if he hurts that boy, I’ll kick his ass all the way back to Texas or whatever the hell rock he crawled out from under.”

She tossed the dish towel on the counter. “Not if I get to him first, ’cause then there’ll be nothing left of him to kick.”

* * *

The next day, Quinn was still wrestling with the decision to let Monty come back again as she emptied the dish drainer.

It was already well after noon, and Max was waiting on the front porch for his father to show up. She could hear the scrape of his boots on the hard wood as he pushed the porch swing back and forth.

The thunk of the swing hitting the house coincided with the pounding of her headache.

She pulled out her phone, checking the time. Again. He was almost twenty minutes late.

What if he didn’t show up at all? What would she tell Max?

This whole thing had been a bad idea.

She tucked her phone back in her pocket, ignoring the pinch in her chest at the display not showing any kind of message or communication from Rock.

Why had he left the day before without even saying goodbye?

She’d waited all night, thinking he’d call or send her a text saying he was sorry for bailing out on her or checking to see if she was okay. But he hadn’t done either. And the later it got without any word from him, the angrier and more depressed she got.

What had she expected?

She’d expected him to call, that’s what. Or come by. Or something.

The sound of an engine drew her attention, and she looked out the open kitchen window to see Monty’s piece-of-crap car speeding down the driveway.

Slow down, idiot. Didn’t he realize there were animals and a kid around this farm?

No. But he probably realized he was late.

At least he’d shown up. She just wasn’t sure if that made her happy or not.

Max jumped off the porch steps and raced around to Monty’s side of the car. She cringed as she waited for her son to hug the guy, but he stopped short, suddenly shy as Monty stepped out of the car.

“Hiya, champ,” she heard Monty say as he offered Max a high-five. “Sorry I’m late. But I brought you a present.”

Oh great. What kind of present had he brought?

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen as Max came flying into the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

“Mom! Mom! Look what my dad brought me! A present!” His eyes shone with excitement as he held up a cheap-looking toy car.

Monty stepped into the house and gave her a nod of greeting.

She tried to keep her features neutral as she peered at the toy. “Wow. Very cool.” Monty must have really gone out of his way for that thing. He probably picked it up at the gas station on the way over.

No worries though. A two-dollar toy car totally makes up for the years of no child support.

Inhaling a deep breath, she tried to calm down. Max was a sensitive kid, and he was far too good at reading her emotions, as evidenced by his comments at dinner the previous night. It wouldn’t help anything for him to think she was upset again.

“Can I show my dad my room, Mom?”

“Sure.” She cringed as Max took Monty’s hand and led him down the hallway toward his bedroom.

“This is all of my stuff,” Max declared, opening his arms wide as he gestured around the room. He pointed to his bookshelves, then his dresser, as he introduced each thing, like a grade school tour guide. “These are my books. This is one of my favorites. It’s about dinosaurs. I also like books about robots. This is my favorite rock that I found when we went to Rocky Mountain National Park. Mom only let me bring home five, and this one is the best. This is my bank. It has lots of money in it. I saved up for my Sunday school class, and I’m going to buy something cool. I don’t know what yet. But it will be cool. And this is my favorite LEGO robot. My uncle helped me build it.”

Monty nodded and made little remarks about each thing, using the word cool to describe most of Max’s treasures.

Quinn had to give it to him though. He seemed interested in everything Max was showing him and listened to the descriptions of all of his favorites. Her eyes had already glazed over. But she’d already heard about all of these things.

Max led Monty toward his bed, where three stuffed animals lay against the pillows. “These are my pet puppies. They’re not real dogs; they’re just stuffed animals. But Mom won’t let me have a real dog till I turn ten. Even though I told her I’d be real responsible. I’d feed it and take it for walks and everything. But Mom says I gotta wait.”

“Ahh, that’s too bad. I’m sure you would be real responsible. It seems like all boys should have a dog growing up. I know I always wanted one.”

Max’s eyes widened. “You did? Did you get one? Like when you were ten? Or before?”

“Like never. I never did get one. My dad wouldn’t let me have one at all.” A funny expression crossed Monty’s eyes, just for a moment, like a cloud passing in front of the sun.

She was sure Max didn’t notice, but Quinn caught it.

“Well, that should about wrap up the tour of Max’s room,” she said, her voice a little too bright. She really needed to find some aspirin. The headache was pulsing against her temples. “We should probably head out for lunch.”

“Yeah, sure,” Monty said. “I was thinking we could grab some burgers at The Creed.”

Her mouth watered at the thought of a burger. At least her headache hadn’t affected her appetite. Maybe she’d feel better after she ate. “Sounds fine.”

“I’m starving,” Max said. “I’m going to eat ten hamburgers.” He galloped down the hall and out the front door.

Quinn grabbed her purse and followed her son and Monty, pulling the front door shut behind her.

Monty stepped off the porch and headed toward the large garage set off to the side of the house. He peered in, his forehead wrinkling with perplexity.

What was he doing? Did he want her to drive?

He spun around, craning his head toward the barn.

“What are you looking for?”

Shrugging, he offered her a sheepish grin. “I was just thinking maybe we could take your new car.”

New car? Her car was on its last legs and barely running. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned his head to the side, as if still searching the property. “I heard you got a fancy new convertible.”

Oh really? Wonder where he heard that little piece of gossip.

Freakin’ Len Larson and his big fat mouth.

It had to be Lennie. She remembered now teasing him and asking him how he liked her new convertible. But how the heck had that already gotten back to Monty?

“My car’s in the shop,” she answered flatly, or at least it should be, so her answer was close enough. “We’ll have to take yours.”

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a weary sigh. “Oh yeah, sure. No problem.” He headed for the car, sliding into the driver’s side, leaving her to get Max buckled into the back seat.

His car was an older model sedan, but at least it was fairly clean inside and devoid of trash. Although it did have the stale scent of greasy fast food and a hint of cigarette smoke, which did nothing to help her headache.

She fastened herself into the front seat, feeling like she was buckling in for more than just a ride into town.

* * *

Rock took his hat off as he stepped into the cool interior of The Creed.

Colt had told him he was covering the day shift and had offered to buy him a burger if he came down to the pub for lunch. It was after one, and Rock was hoping to avoid the majority of the noon-day crowd.

He slid onto a stool at the bar, setting his hat down on the counter next to him, then motioned for his brother to pour him a cold one.

Colt brought him a soda instead.

Rock sneered at the glass. “What’s this?”

“It’s the middle of the day, Bro.”

“Who’s the big brother here?”

Colt grinned and offered him a shrug, then held up a laminated menu. “You wanna see this?”

“Nah, just order me a cheeseburger with the works. And some fries. No, wait, make it some onion rings.” A few onions wouldn’t matter today—it’s not like he was going to be kissing anyone anyway. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the display for about the hundredth time since he’d walked out of Quinn’s house the day before.

The display was the same. No missed calls. No notifications of text messages. Nothing from Quinn.

He sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. What did he expect? He hadn’t called her either. He was trying to give her time, to let her come to him if she needed him.

Obviously, she didn’t need him.

“So, are you planning to mope around all day or just for the better part of it?” Colt asked, leaning against the edge of the bar. The tavern was fairly empty, and Rock was the only customer sitting at the bar.

“Shut up,” Rock growled. He’d told his family about Monty showing up the day before as they’d sat around the breakfast table that morning. They’d all been surprised at his return.

But none of them had been surprised at Rock’s reaction. They knew to stay out of his way when he had a good sulk going on. But they also only let him sulk for so long.

Colt held up his hands. “Hey, I get it. This whole thing would rile me up too. But what I don’t get is why Quinn would even let that guy into her house.”

“You would have too if you had seen Max. That kid acted like Hill was freaking Santa Claus on Christmas morning. He was so excited, running around like he was gonna wet himself with joy. What was she supposed to do?”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

Rock let out a chuckle. That’s what he would have liked to see her do as well. “I think she was in shock. She didn’t really say anything.” Or if she had, he hadn’t stuck around long enough to hear it.

“That doesn’t sound like the Quinn I know. That girl’s never been afraid to speak her mind.”

“Yeah, that’s what I would have thought too. But she couldn’t. Not with the way Max was carrying on, like having Hill show up was like the arrival of Christ himself.”

“More like the Antichrist.”

His brother’s comment earned a slight grin. “You should have seen the guy too. Acting all friendly, like he’d just dropped by for Sunday tea.” Rock shook his head. “What a douche.”

Colt looked up as the door of the Tavern opened, and he tipped his head toward the entrance. “Looks like the douche just walked in.”

“What?” Rock spun in his chair, letting out a groan as he watched Hill holding the door for Quinn and Max. That’s just great.

“Rock!” Max’s face lit up as he saw him, and he ran toward the bar, scrambling up onto the seat next to Rock. “Guess what? My dad came to see me again today. And he is taking us out to lunch. And he said maybe we could get ice cream after. And he brought me this.”

Max held out a small red car. It was made of cheap tin, and the bar between the wheels was already bent. It looked like the kind of junk toys they sold at a dollar store or a gas station. “Isn’t it cool?”

Rock nodded, biting his tongue to keep from giving his actual opinion.

It was obvious Hill hadn’t spent any time talking to Max. The boy had no interest in toy cars. It took only about five minutes of listening to the kid talk to know that he loved dinosaurs and bugs and books. He was smart and had the kind of mind that was always trying to figure things out, to fathom how things worked.

If the guy had any sense of the kid, he would have brought him a book on dinosaurs or a set of LEGOs or something to build. Not a cheap tin car.

“Hi, Rock.” Quinn bit out the words, her lips set in a tight line, her eyes wary as she approached the bar.

Damn. He should have called. Or texted. Or anything.

Their whole relationship had changed in the last several days, but this felt like the old Quinn. Like the way she used to act over the last several years when she saw him out in public and was forced to interact with him. The same cold shoulder, the same icy, flat tone of voice.

“Hey, Q.” He hated the way she winced at his greeting, as if the old nickname caused her physical pain. He nodded at Monty.

Max turned to Hill, a proud smile beaming from his face. “You remember Rock? He’s my friend. He took me and my mom to the drive-in movies. And he has a car with no top on it. And he’s a famous hockey player. We watch him sometimes on TV.”

Oh really?

Rock glanced at Quinn, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, a tiny smile playing across his lips as he hoped to draw her into the joke.

She didn’t return his smile. Instead, she rubbed her palm across her forehead as if she had a headache. “Come on, Max. Let’s let the famous hockey player eat his lunch.”

“Okay.” He crawled down from the barstool, then looked up at Rock, his eyes full of hopefulness. “What about ice skating? You’re still taking us skating tomorrow, right? Right? You promised.”

Oh crud. He’d forgotten about the ice skating.

“Max, that was before your—” He choked on the word dad, not able to bring himself to say it. “Before Monty showed up. I don’t want to take away your time from him.”

“What does that matter? He can come too. We can all go together.” He turned to Monty and his mother. “Can’t we all go skating together tomorrow?”

Monty glanced around the bar, anywhere but at Max, as he tugged on the collar of his shirt. “Yeah, that’s cool. I can go. Let’s all go skating. Together.” He narrowed his eyes at Rock as he said the last word, almost as if daring him to say no and disappoint the kid.

Awesome.

There was nothing in him that wanted to go ice skating with Monty Hill. But he had promised Max. And he was not one to renege on a promise.

Maybe he could find a way to “accidentally” check Monty into the boards of the ice rink.

“Sounds great,” he said. “We’ll all go.”

He glanced at Quinn again, hoping for a positive reaction, but her crossed arms and the annoyed sigh she let out were unmistakable signs that she still wasn’t a happy camper.

Great. His own sulkiness settled back in his chest. “See you tomorrow then. You want me to pick you up?” he asked, giving it one more last-ditch effort.

“No, that’s fine. We’ll meet you at the ice rink,” Quinn answered. “Around two? Is that good for you?”

“Sure. That’s fine.” What would really be good for him was if he could get her to smile or nod or uncross her dang arms. Anything to get that look off her face, the one that was a cross between pissed off and hurt.

He hated that look and hated it worse that he was partly responsible for putting it there.

Him and the asswipe he was going ice skating with tomorrow.

“Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.” She took Max’s hand and led him to a booth on the other side of the restaurant.

“See you tomorrow,” he grumbled, turning back to the bar, not wanting to watch the little family as they settled in at a table for lunch.

Colt set his plate on the bar in front of him, and Rock picked up his cheeseburger and shoved a bite into his mouth.

“Sounds like you’ve got a play date with Hill tomorrow. That oughta be fun,” Colt said, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smirk.

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Rock muttered, keeping his voice low as he spoke around a mouthful of burger. Not that they could hear him from across the bar, but he didn’t want to give Quinn any more ammunition in her things-that-piss-me-off-about-Rock arsenal.

“You sure you want to do that?” Colt kept his voice quiet as well, leaning casually against the bar.

“No. But what am I supposed to do? I promised the kid.”

His brother shrugged.

“Besides, I can’t begrudge the kid wanting to know his dad. If anyone knows what it’s like to grow up without a dad, it’s us.”

“Yeah, but our dad died. He didn’t walk away from us on purpose.”

Rock took a gulp of his soda, washing down the bite that had just gone tasteless in his mouth. “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. But now the guy is back. And what if he really has changed? Hell, I’m not the same guy I was back in high school. Maybe this guy isn’t the same punk-ass twat he used to be either.”

“Maybe he is.”

That’s what Rock was afraid of.

“Yeah, maybe he is. But I don’t know. And who the hell am I to judge? I’ve screwed up enough stuff in my life that I sure as heck can’t judge someone else’s.” Especially because most of those screwups involved the way he’d treated the blond cowgirl sitting in the booth across the room from him.

But Quinn had given him another chance. Had let him try to make up for the mistakes he’d made. She’d put her pride and humiliation aside and had been working to forgive him. Wasn’t he a big enough man to do that for someone else?

Especially when an innocent kid was involved? He could do this. For Max’s sake.

He’d been selfish before—had hurt someone because he put himself and his career over the feelings of someone who meant the world to him. Everything might have been different if he’d only tamped down his arrogance—only let go of his pride and selfishness.

And he had a chance to do that now. A chance to put his wants and needs aside and let a little boy have a chance at a relationship with his father, a chance at a family.

He wouldn’t stand in the way of that. Wouldn’t make trouble for Quinn or Max. He knew he needed to step back and let them have this time. No matter how much it hurt or pissed him off.

So he would give Quinn time, let her come to him if she needed him. He’d meet them tomorrow and teach Max how to skate, but other than that, he’d leave them alone. Give them time to see if they could create a family.

He dropped the rest of his burger on his plate, his appetite gone. “I’m gonna head out,” he told his brother as he stuffed one last onion ring in his mouth and crammed his hat on his head. He tossed a twenty on the counter. “See ya, Bro.”

Keeping his eyes on the door, he walked out of the bar. He could tell himself that he needed to give them space to be a family, but he dang sure didn’t need to watch it happen.