stalled.
The boy’s own catch rope got tossed to the wayside. “No—know him, from before.”
Deke shot Addie a glance of pure apology, which she returned, he saw, with one of regret—that she had let it go so far, that she had let him so far in. For at that moment, Jace, no longer either wary or hopeful but something in between, squared off in front of Deke. He had to admire the boy’s gumption, even if he was suddenly disconcerted to find as sharp a scrutiny on him as he’d ever bent upon critter or human.
That’s when something told Deke his son wasn’t talking about either Connor Brody or D.K. Larrabie.
Still, he had to ask, “Did I know who, Jace?”
“My daddy!” Jace said impatiently. “Did you know my daddy?”
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