the boys to their own devices and trotted her way, pretending not to notice how his approach hiked her anxiety. But her body language spoke volumes. She tightened her stance, shifted her gaze and nervously bit her lip. He couldn’t read her full expression because her eyes were shaded by inexpensive sunglasses, the setting sun blinding the east side of the field.
“How did it go?”
“He’s amazing.”
A tiny smile of agreement softened her clenched mouth. “He is.”
“He says he never played formally. Is that right?”
A frown replaced the smile. “That’s right.”
“Who taught him?”
“He’s self-taught mostly. I had a DVD of old Super Bowl games and he’d watch that thing again and again, studying the moves of the players, the teams. And then he’d practice in the backyard, or in his bedroom. He’s been running plays since he could walk. So much like you.”
Her last words were spoken on a breath of wind, light and soft, wafting away, almost as if she didn’t want him to hear them.
But he did.
“Does your husband work with him?”
Her jaw tightened before she shrugged. “He did. Some.”
Anger mixed with envy shimmied upward, grabbing Trent somewhere around his throat. He couldn’t imagine having a kid as smart, bright and capable as Jaden and not working with him, not coaching him, not spending every moment he could to help the boy develop skills that opened doors of opportunity. What kind of man shrugged off a kid with Jaden’s capabilities? Was it because he was the boy’s stepfather?
Trent’s defense mechanism clicked into high gear just as Alyssa tried and failed to stifle a yawn. She shook her head. “Sorry.”
Something in the way she said that, the way she tried to cover her move, tugged Trent forward. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
She wasn’t. He could see it. Feel it. But, hey, not his business, right?
She yawned again, then looked downright aggravated beneath the dark lenses. Surprising both of them, Trent reached out and tipped her shades up.
“Hey.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Guilt edged away a corner of anger. “Is worrying about me keeping you from sleeping?”
The look she slanted him had “duh” written all over it.
Growling, he strode two steps away, ran a hand through his hair, turned and came back. “Listen, I—”
She forestalled whatever he said with a shake of her head. “The last thing I want or deserve is your sympathy. Or your apology.”
Her choice of words tweaked the protector within him. Deserve?
Jaden’s voice interrupted them. “Hey, Mom. How’s Cory?”
“All right. No fever right now.”
The boy moved closer, his demeanor reflecting the struggle of leaving a great evening with new friends. Football-loving friends at that. “Do you want me to stop now so you can get home to her or can we stay a few minutes more?”
Trent added considerate to the list of Jaden’s qualities.
“Grandma said she’s sound asleep, so we’re fine, honey. Keep playing.”
Despite her weariness, she was willing to let him have time with new friends, learn new skills. Trent tried to find fault with that and couldn’t, then put two and two together. “Somebody’s sick? Besides your dad?”
“My little girl. She’s three and I think the move wore her out. She caught back-to-back colds and it’s taking a toll.”
“On her and you.”
Lyssa shrugged.
“Will she sleep tonight?”
“Who knows? Coughing kept her up last night. Hopefully tonight will be better.”
“What’s the doctor say?” he pressed.
Alyssa’s hesitation said more than her easy words. “It’s just a cold. Runny noses and coughs are part of childhood.”
She didn’t quite pull off the matter-of-fact attitude, but Trent left it alone. Not his problem. Still, he knew it couldn’t be easy to come back east, move in with her parents, step into Gary’s shoes at The Edge and deal with a sick kid.
And him.
But that was her fault for keeping him out of the picture for so long. He refused to feel sorry for that. So why did her next yawn punch a sympathy button he thought long-since buried?
It didn’t, he assured himself. No more than it would for anyone else.
Darkness pushed the kids toward home a short while later. Trent met Jaden’s look as the boy trotted their way, his easy lope inherent. “Tomorrow night?”
Jaden shook his head. “I work with Mom on Thursdays at the restaurant. Fridays, too. But I’m practicing with Coach Russo on Saturday afternoon. Can you come?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His words hurt Alyssa. He saw that and did nothing to soften their blow. He’d already missed nearly a dozen years, time gone, irretrievable. Even if he’d planned something for Saturday, he’d forgo it to spend time with Jaden.
“Ready?” Addressing the question to Jaden, Alyssa ignored Trent.
So be it.
He nodded Jaden’s way, headed to his car parked just in front of hers and shrugged off guilt that his words had been hurtful. After all, Trent figured it didn’t even come close to evening the score in the retribution column. He started his sporty black coupe and headed away, trying to push the image of her tired eyes from his mind. The fact that he couldn’t just intensified his anger.
Chapter Six
Dead.
Trent scowled at the Internet posting, sat back, then hunched forward again, his brain not comprehending what his eyes read in the two-year-old web clip from a southeast Montana newspaper.
A one-car crash on Mueller Road claimed the life of an East Brogan man early Sunday morning. Vaughn Maxwell, 33, of Cuylerville was found dead in his vehicle during a routine patrol by the Cuyler County sheriff’s office. Maxwell’s car appeared to have veered off the road at high speed, hit a tree, rolled over and came to a sudden stop against another tree. Attempts to resuscitate the driver were unsuccessful. The Cuyler County coroner’s office will conduct tests to see if alcohol use contributed to the crash.
Maxwell
