it out for you while we handle the paperwork,” he added as they walked toward the garage.
For the first time, Kara noticed a skinny young man bent over an open hood. As Sam spoke his name, the teen looked up with a nod. A dark bruise blacked one eye, and he ducked his head after only a split second of contact.
“I have some toys in the office.” Sam held open the door to a small office that seemed to have been tacked on to the side of the garage like an afterthought. “Bunch of cars and trucks my mom saved from when I was a kid. And then my sister Sophia added some dolls and stuff in case a little girl wanted to play.”
“Girls can’t play with cars and trucks?”
Sam raised a hand as if she’d proved his point. “That’s what I said, but she seemed to think they’d like Barbie better.”
The office was small and crowded with a desk, file cabinets and mismatched chairs, but it was the narrowness of the doorway Kara noticed most as her shoulder brushed Sam’s chest as she passed.
“There’s the toy box right over there, Timmy,” Sam said, gesturing to a box with a monogrammed yellow S on the front nearly faded away.
The boy hesitated, scraping his tennis shoe along the scuffed linoleum floor, and Kara said, “He’s not really into cars and trucks.”
Sam nodded knowingly. “All about the electronics for kids these days, isn’t it? Video games and computers.”
“I suppose, but Timmy likes books and puzzles.” She could sense Sam’s surprise in the look he shot at the boy. Feeling more and more defensive by the minute, she insisted, “He’s very smart for his age. He’s been going to a very prestigious preschool since he turned three. School’s starting again in another two weeks, and he’s looking forward to getting back and seeing his teachers and his friends.”
“Whatever he likes to do, right?”
Kara swallowed and strove for a sense of calm that had completely deserted her. Her heart was racing and she felt out of breath, all without reason. Sam hadn’t challenged a single thing she said, but even though he didn’t know it, he was a roadblock in front of all the plans she had for her nephew. “Right. It’s all about what’s best for Timmy.”
If she could only determine what that was….
“Hey, good choice, my man.” Sam grinned over her shoulder and Kara looked back to see her nephew holding a tiny red metal car in his hand. A car that even she could see looked very much like the one Sam drove.
“Now that is a familiar sight,” he added.
Kara swallowed against the rising panic. Was it only that car Sam recognized, or on some level was he starting to see a younger version of himself in the green-eyed, blond-haired boy?
Her heart tumbled inside her chest as Sam crouched down, folding his big body until he could meet Timmy’s gaze face-to-face. When he held out his palm, the boy’s face fell and he reluctantly handed over the car. “No, Timmy. You can keep the car. I wanted you to give me five.”
He shot a confused look at Kara. “Five what?”
“Give me five. That’s what it’s called when I hold out my hand and you slap my palm with yours.”
Eyes wide, Timmy shook his head. “I’m not supposed to hit.”
“It’s not hitting. It’s…” Sam glanced over his broad shoulder as if looking for some help in this department, but Kara could only shrug.
Clearly both she and Marti had been lax when it came to explaining the high five. The gesture wasn’t exactly one that filled her daily life, though she realized it was a guy thing. High fives. Chest bumps. Those complicated handshakes. They were all signs of male celebration and camaraderie that were completely beyond Kara.
Was that why Marti had asked Kara to find Timmy’s father? To provide the boy the male role model missing from the first four years of his life?
“You know what? Don’t worry about giving me five.” Lowering his voice, he added, “But I want to tell you something about that car. A car like that is super-fast.”
His eyes wide as if understanding Sam was imparting some kind of secret knowledge, her nephew whispered, “How fast?”
“Faster than a bird or a bear or…” Sam’s voice trailed off but not before a look passed between man and boy.
An unspoken communication that shook Kara to the core even as Timmy filled in, “Monsters?”
Sam bumped his fist against the one Timmy had closed around the small car. “You better hold on to that. Just in case.”
A sudden clatter of metal against concrete broke the moment. Sam’s head swung back toward the open doorway to the garage and pushed to his full height with a frown when a muffled curse followed. “Will,” he called, “you break anything important out there?”
At first only a pained silence answered before the teen responded, “Just my foot.”
“In that case, get back to work.”
Kara gaped at the callous response and took a step toward the door. “Don’t you think—”
Reaching out, Sam wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her progress, her words, her heartbeat. For a crazy moment, she imagined him pulling her closer, his eyes darkening as he kissed her.
“He’ll be fine.”
It took a moment for Kara’s mind to refocus on Sam’s words instead of his touch. “You don’t know that.”
“I know if we rush out there and start hovering over Will, it will only make that bruised foot feel worse.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
He gave a short laugh at that. “Because it’s guy logic. You’ll have to trust me on this one. If we pay any attention to him right now, it’ll hurt his pride and embarrass the he…heck out of him. For a kid like Will, that’s worse than broken bones any day.”
As if proving the truth—logical or not—of his words, the high-pitched whine of machinery resumed as Will went back to work.
“Will’s shy and quiet, but he’s tough in his own way.”
A hint of pride and admiration filled Sam’s voice. Admiration for the teen’s toughness? Kara wondered.
A toughness that Timmy, with his reluctance to hit and his fear of monsters, didn’t possess.
“He’s just a boy,” she protested, not sure if she was talking about Will or Timmy. “Do you really think ignoring pain is the best way to deal with it?”
Half expecting some quick response about rubbing dirt on a wound and getting back in the game, Kara was surprised when Sam gave her question some thought. “Admitting you’re hurting makes you vulnerable. Hiding that pain’s a pretty good way to make sure no one can make that hurt even worse.”
Memories of her own hidden
