the wind cooling his skin and the sun beating down to warm his chilled body that he could hardly believe he was finally doing it. He’d taken so much for granted before—not any more, not ever again. He cherished each fresh breath of freedom, each precious day he could walk out of a place unhindered, each time he could close his eyes and not worry about whether he would wake up the next morning or not. His life began the day he’d walked out of prison.
Was his new job thrusting him back into a world he didn’t want to be in? He needed a job and had been glad for a reference from Samuel, but the more he thought about the duties Nick wanted his assistant to do the more he felt as though he was being thrust back into the corporate life he’d wanted to avoid, that very life that had required hours and hours of overtime. If he had been with his wife and daughter when they had come home to find a stranger in their house, then maybe they would be alive today.
Still he needed the job. He would just have to take it one day at a time and not let his job consume his whole life. Not ever again.
With his heartbeat slowing, he strode toward the stairs that led to his apartment. A quick look toward the left halted his progress. Crystal sat on the deck, drawing something on a pad. Suddenly she threw down her pencil, tore off the sheet and crunched it into a ball. She tossed it into the yard where several other similar papers lay crumpled.
The frustration and anger that marked the teenager’s face drew him toward her. If his daughter were alive, he would want to be there for her. That was impossible, of course, but he could help Tom’s daughter.
“Nothing working out?” Chance gestured toward the wadded-up papers in the grass.
Crystal took the pencil her service dog had retrieved for her and looked up at him. “What’s the use? I’m not any good anyway.”
He descended the two steps to the yard and smoothed out one of the sheets. He whistled. “If this isn’t good, then I hate to think what you consider bad. Who is this?” He came back to sit in the lounge chair next to her.
“Just a guy. No one important.”
“Are all those attempts of him?”
Crystal nodded, peering away.
“Do you always waste your time drawing someone who isn’t important to you?”
She sighed, then shook her head. “He doesn’t know I’m alive.”
The anguish that wrenched her voice did the same to him. He cleared his throat and asked, “How do you know?”
“I just do. I might as well be dead for all he cares.”
The pain her words produced stole his breath. “I’m sorry. I…” Words failed him.
Chapter Three
For a brief moment Chance thought of his daughter. He remembered Haley making a comment a few days before she’d been killed about how she would just die if she didn’t get to go to a friend’s party. Haley never made it to the birthday party. He turned away, aware that Crystal had clasped his arm while her service dog licked his hand.
“Are you okay, Chance?”
The alarm in her voice swung his gaze to Crystal. He forced a grin that was an effort to maintain. “I’m fine. I had a daughter. She would have been near your age if she’d lived.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. He didn’t talk about Haley—he couldn’t without—
“Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened?”
Gone were Crystal’s problems as she leaned toward him, wanting to offer comfort. Most of the time he could handle it. Coming to Sweetwater had for some reason revived all those memories. Probably because Crystal was so close in age to Haley. There was only a year between them.
“She was killed.” He scooted forward in the chair. “But I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about this guy you have a crush on.”
Crystal started to say something but decided not to. Instead, she shrugged. “There’s nothing to say. He’s popular. I’m not.” She put her hand on her service dog, stroking her Lab’s black fur. “He’s on the basketball team. Even though he’s a freshman, he plays varsity because he’s so good. The season will start in six weeks. I try to go to every game.”
“You like basketball,” he said, sensing Crystal steering the conversation away from the guy she cared about.
Her face lit. “Yes. I’ve even tried to play some with Sean. He’s my best friend.”
“Are you any good?”
Laughter invaded her features. “Are you kidding? I can’t even hit the backboard now. I use to be able to before the accident. But I can still dribble.”
“Maybe all you need is practice. I could fix you up a basketball hoop and backboard if you want.”
“Really?”
He nodded, her enthusiasm contagious. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
“What’s okay with me?”
The screen door banged closed, and Tanya strolled toward him. Her smile of greeting, reaching deep into her eyes, soothed some of the tension knotting his stomach. He came to his feet, facing Tanya, who was only a few inches shorter than his own six foot plus height.
“I offered to put up a basketball hoop for Crystal.”
Her mahogany eyes grew dull. She ran her hand through her short brown hair, brushing back her wispy bangs. “I don’t want—I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He grinned, wanting to tease the smile back into her eyes, needing to lighten the mood. “Nope. I don’t have anything to do except shop for some new clothes between now and Wednesday. So I’m pretty much a man of leisure in need of a project.”
“Mom?”
Tanya glanced at her daughter. Eagerness replaced her earlier sadness. For the past three years Tanya had constantly depended on others to make it through. Each day she felt herself growing stronger. And with that, she had determined she would learn to stand on her own two feet. She didn’t want to become any more beholden to Chance Taylor than she was. She’d already regretted asking him to help her with her budget. But how could she turn her daughter down? Basketball and drawing were the two things Crystal loved the most.
“Fine. But only if you let me help you. And I’m paying for the materials.” Somehow she would come up with the money for the hoop, backboard and wood to secure it to the garage.
“Good. See you two later.”
Tanya watched Chance stroll away, his hair damp from exercise, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face. He must have gone for a long run. He’d been gone over an hour. She should do more exercise. I wonder if he would like a running partner, she thought, realizing she’d probably never go jogging unless she did it with someone.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Crystal’s voice dragged her from her musings. “You’re welcome. Next time, honey, say something to me first. I
