never bothered to get in touch with yourdad?
Matt wanted to ask, but it didn’t feel right to lay that question on the kid after the crappy day she’d had.
“Well, you’ve got me now,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Taylor tensed.
“What?” Matt asked.
“He said I could stay.” Her voice was pitched too high, her face pinched and white.
“Who?”
“Luke. My…my dad. He said I was staying with Grandma Tess now.”
“Yeah, that’s where we’re going. Home.”
And then it occurred to Matt that “home” probably meant something else to her. The kid had been shuttled around too damn often in the past couple of months to take anything for granted.
He squatted down so he could look her square in the eyes and asked, “Okay?”
He watched her think about it—
Nobody’s fool, this kid
—before she nodded.
But when they got to his bike, she balked.
“Are we riding on that?”
He lifted his helmet from the back. “Yep.”
“Where do I sit?”
He patted the custom seat. “Here. Behind me.”
“I’ll fall off.”
“Not if you hold on,” he said patiently.
He waited with the helmet on his hip while she looked from the bike to him and back again, suspicious as a fish testing artificial bait.
“Fine,” she growled at last.
He grinned at her, tapping a finger on the bill of her cap. “You have to stow this. No riding without a helmet.”
“Yeah? What about you?”
“I’m the grown-up,” he told her. “I get to do what I want.”
Which was a lie. North Carolina law required helmets, and being an adult meant taking on all kind of responsibilities you didn’t necessarily want. But at ten, she didn’t need to know that yet.
She snorted and dragged off Luke’s Marine cap, stuffing it in her book bag, standing at attention while Matt fit the helmet over her blond head and adjusted the chin strap. Her bones were sharp and light as a bird’s, the skin under her jaw baby fine and smooth. His gut clenched. She was so much younger than Josh, smaller, female, vulnerable. He gave the helmet an extra tug at the back, making sure it was secure, making sure she was safe.
His brother’s child.
He hadn’t expected this sense of responsibility to grip his chest so suddenly, so tight, another claim, another complication he hadn’t been looking for in his life. But there was no way he would wish her away now.
T AYLOR FLINCHED AS he jumped on some kind of kickstand thing and the motor choked and roared to life.
She stood, her feet superglued to the ground, her heart banging as loud as the engine, while he twisted the handlebars and swung one long leg over the rattling frame.
Turning his head, he smiled at her. “You step up on the footrest there. Don’t touch the exhaust pipes. They’re hot.”
He looked really big, straddling the big, noisy bike, and the seat was so small.
She didn’t—couldn’t—move.
“It’s okay,” Uncle Matt said gently. “I’m holding her steady. You won’t fall.”
He thought she was afraid of the motorcycle.
Pride and scorn and desperation propelled her forward. Jerkily, she climbed up on the narrow seat behind him,clutching his arm and then his shirt. His arm was warm and steady. His back was hard and wide, a living wall.
Taylor swallowed.
“You’ve got to really hold on,” he shouted over the rumble of the bike. “Around my waist.”
She tensed, greasy panic balling in her stomach. She didn’t want to get that close to him. She didn’t want to get that close to anybody.
At least he took her side. In Nelson’s office. He’d showed up in the middle of the day, mad and solid, and stood up for her.
Taylor relaxed a little, remembering how he yelled at the vice principal. Even when the pretty blond teacher had fixed things, he hadn’t expected Taylor to shut up and go along the way everybody else did, just because she was a kid. Like what she thought, how she felt, didn’t matter. He
asked
her what she wanted.
You’ve got
Matt wanted to ask, but it didn’t feel right to lay that question on the kid after the crappy day she’d had.
“Well, you’ve got me now,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Taylor tensed.
“What?” Matt asked.
“He said I could stay.” Her voice was pitched too high, her face pinched and white.
“Who?”
“Luke. My…my dad. He said I was staying with Grandma Tess now.”
“Yeah, that’s where we’re going. Home.”
And then it occurred to Matt that “home” probably meant something else to her. The kid had been shuttled around too damn often in the past couple of months to take anything for granted.
He squatted down so he could look her square in the eyes and asked, “Okay?”
He watched her think about it—
Nobody’s fool, this kid
—before she nodded.
But when they got to his bike, she balked.
“Are we riding on that?”
He lifted his helmet from the back. “Yep.”
“Where do I sit?”
He patted the custom seat. “Here. Behind me.”
“I’ll fall off.”
“Not if you hold on,” he said patiently.
He waited with the helmet on his hip while she looked from the bike to him and back again, suspicious as a fish testing artificial bait.
“Fine,” she growled at last.
He grinned at her, tapping a finger on the bill of her cap. “You have to stow this. No riding without a helmet.”
“Yeah? What about you?”
“I’m the grown-up,” he told her. “I get to do what I want.”
Which was a lie. North Carolina law required helmets, and being an adult meant taking on all kind of responsibilities you didn’t necessarily want. But at ten, she didn’t need to know that yet.
She snorted and dragged off Luke’s Marine cap, stuffing it in her book bag, standing at attention while Matt fit the helmet over her blond head and adjusted the chin strap. Her bones were sharp and light as a bird’s, the skin under her jaw baby fine and smooth. His gut clenched. She was so much younger than Josh, smaller, female, vulnerable. He gave the helmet an extra tug at the back, making sure it was secure, making sure she was safe.
His brother’s child.
He hadn’t expected this sense of responsibility to grip his chest so suddenly, so tight, another claim, another complication he hadn’t been looking for in his life. But there was no way he would wish her away now.
T AYLOR FLINCHED AS he jumped on some kind of kickstand thing and the motor choked and roared to life.
She stood, her feet superglued to the ground, her heart banging as loud as the engine, while he twisted the handlebars and swung one long leg over the rattling frame.
Turning his head, he smiled at her. “You step up on the footrest there. Don’t touch the exhaust pipes. They’re hot.”
He looked really big, straddling the big, noisy bike, and the seat was so small.
She didn’t—couldn’t—move.
“It’s okay,” Uncle Matt said gently. “I’m holding her steady. You won’t fall.”
He thought she was afraid of the motorcycle.
Pride and scorn and desperation propelled her forward. Jerkily, she climbed up on the narrow seat behind him,clutching his arm and then his shirt. His arm was warm and steady. His back was hard and wide, a living wall.
Taylor swallowed.
“You’ve got to really hold on,” he shouted over the rumble of the bike. “Around my waist.”
She tensed, greasy panic balling in her stomach. She didn’t want to get that close to him. She didn’t want to get that close to anybody.
At least he took her side. In Nelson’s office. He’d showed up in the middle of the day, mad and solid, and stood up for her.
Taylor relaxed a little, remembering how he yelled at the vice principal. Even when the pretty blond teacher had fixed things, he hadn’t expected Taylor to shut up and go along the way everybody else did, just because she was a kid. Like what she thought, how she felt, didn’t matter. He
asked
her what she wanted.
You’ve got
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