Kelly turned back to Matt. Concern buckled his forehead and her heart swelled. For his goodness, if nothing else. That he’d grown up even better than she’d imagined he would.
Whereas she was still a very shaky work in progress.
“I’ve spent far too much of my life avoiding the hard stuff, letting other people run interference for me. The last thing I need to do right now is let Cooper think his mother is a wuss.”
“He will never think that,” Matt said softly, a moment before Abby and the children burst into the room. Coop took one look at her and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
Not even bothering to check her tears, Kelly opened her arms.
* * *
“What’re you doing out here?”
Slouched in one of the big rattan chairs in the sunroom off the dining room, Matt shrugged at Abby’s question. “Thinking,” he said, stretching out one foot to lay it on the matching ottoman.
“That’s not like you,” she said, and he smiled in spite of the knot in his chest. “You okay?”
“Me being okay isn’t the issue.”
Abby tromped across the terra-cotta-tiled floor and dropped into another chair a few feet away. “Which is why I don’t get why you’re out here and not in there.”
“Did you see the look Cooper gave me after Kelly told him about his dad?”
“Please don’t tell me you think that was really aimed at you? For God’s sake, the kid was in shock.”
Punching out a frustrated breath, Matt pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids, still trying to figure out how the world could go ass-over-teakettle in less than a day. Bad enough that some chick he’d never expected to see again shows up out of the blue, but then her ex—who was the reason for her showing up to begin with—dies? Holy hell. Although you’d think, considering how often life had clobbered him in the past, he’d be used to it by now. Coop, however...
Matt squinted against the glare of late-day sunlight slashing across the leftover snow outside. No, he didn’t know the kid. Or, beyond what Kelly had told him, anything about his relationship with his father. But he understood the upheaval and uncertainty, the “what comes next?” the kid was probably feeling. And Abby was right, the boy’s reaction wasn’t personal. In fact, it had nothing to do with Matt. A fact that would probably make a lot of men sigh in relief.
Except relieved was one thing he most definitely was not right now, logic be damned. Frustrated as hell was more like it—
“You’re pissed that you can’t fix this, aren’t you?” Abby said, startling him.
“What?”
A slight, slightly smart-ass smile touched his sister’s mouth before she stood, contorting her arms into the most painful-looking position to crack her spine. Then, releasing what sounded like a blissful sigh, Abby punched her hands into her hoodie pockets. “I know that look. God knows I’ve seen it often enough. And not just on your face. On Dad’s, too. Never mind that you haven’t seen this woman in years, that you don’t know these kids. If someone’s in trouble, you want to make it better. No...you have to. Am I right?”
Glaring at the backyard, Matt locked his hands behind his head. “Yeah. And maybe that’s why I do what I do.”
“And we all love you for it,” his sister said, leaning over to give him a quick hug. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Matt pushed out a dry chuckle and Abby straightened, her hands in her pockets again. And maybe it was the light, or because his brain was on overload, but suddenly he saw a...seriousness behind the sparkle in those bright blue eyes he’d never noticed before. Huh. His baby sister was all grown up.
Then her gaze shifted to the open French doors behind him. Matt twisted around, surging to his feet when he saw Kelly in her coat and scarf, her curls abandoned to fend for themselves. In the stark light she looked paler than ever, her hand tightly fisted around the purse strap straddling her shoulder.
“I hate to ask, but...” A nervous smile flickered around her mouth, apology screaming behind those ridiculous glasses. “I really do need to go see Rick’s mom for a little while, but...I’m not sure I should take the kids—”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby said. “I’d be glad to watch them, but I’ve got to get back to work—”
“You go on, Abs,” Matt said. “I’ll stay.”
“You’re sure?” Kelly said as Abby hustled past her. “I mean, if it’s a problem I’ll take them—”
“Kelly, for crying out loud, I ride herd with Ethan’s rugrats all the time. I’ve got this, okay?”
“Except these rugrats just lost their father. I mean, Aislin’s okay—about that, anyway, she doesn’t really understand what’s going on, although God forbid you give her the wrong sippy cup, your ears will never be the same. But Coop...” Her chin trembled for a moment, killing Matt. She looked back—no, more like leaned back—into the house. “He didn’t say a single word when I told him. Didn’t cry, nothing.” Worried eyes met his again. “Is that even normal?”
Given what she’d said? The kid’s emotions were probably more tangled than Kelly’s hair. “Everyone reacts differently—”
“I shouldn’t leave him, should I? I mean, I know Lynn needs me, too, she doesn’t have anyone else, but she is an adult. Damn it—” Kelly shoved the heel of her hand into her temple. “Why can’t I figure out what to do?”
Speaking of tangled emotions.... “It’s okay,” Matt said, wanting to hold her. Wanting to run. Most of all, to wind back the clock. “Really. We’ll all get through this, I promise.”
After a moment, she nodded, clutching that purse strap like she’d fall into the abyss if she let go. “I should be back by dinnertime. I hope. And they’re in the family room, watching a movie—”
At that, Matt took her by the shoulders, gently swiveling her toward the front door. “You can call me every five minutes if it’ll ease your mind. But the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment before, with another nod, she left.
In the family room, Aislin lay on the carpet, staring blankly up at the beamed ceiling, thumb in mouth. Matt figured the toddler had five minutes, tops, before she zonked out. Coop, however, was scrunched up next to Alf in the sectional’s corner, head propped in hand, gaze fixed at the garishly hued figures cavorting across the fifty-inch screen.
“Hey,” Matt said softly. Alf thumped her tail, but neither kid responded. Matt entered the room, the seen-better-days recliner wobbling and groaning when he sat on its edge.
“You don’t have to stay,” Coop said, not looking at Matt. “I’m watching Linnie.”
“I can see that.” Matt leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “Just checking in.”
God
