His straight white teeth gleam in the morning sun as he grins. “Liar.”
“Maybe I am a bit tense,” I admit softly. “I guess I’m just waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes and shove a camera in my face. You know, ask me when we’re getting married.”
His grin falls off suddenly. “Whoa . . . Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Cath.”
My cheeks flare with heat. “Oh, I didn’t mean for real, like that’s what I want.”
He pauses, a frown pulling his brow tight. “You don’t want that?”
“Of course I do. I mean, I will. I mean . . .” My mind is spinning as I stumble over my words, searching for the ones to defuse this sudden tension.
Until he begins to chuckle, and I realize he’s teasing me.
“You’re such a jerk!” I elbow his forearm but I’m smiling.
“Mommy!”
“It’s okay. I deserved that,” Brett tells her as I root through my purse in search of my keys. “Maybe I should get into acting if this hockey thing doesn’t work out.”
I roll my eyes at him as I pop the hatch. Brett begins handing me grocery bags, his grin downright devilish, his fingers grazing mine with each pass.
“Have you ever had a dog?” Brenna asks out of nowhere, even while her bright eyes are on the tub of chocolate ice cream that she somehow didn’t notice earlier.
“I did. A beagle named Bower. He ran away, though. Never came back.”
“Oh.” Brenna’s face scrunches. “That’s a sad story.”
“You’re right. It is.”
“Are you gonna get another one?”
Brett empties the cart of the last two bags. “Funny you should ask. I have started thinking about getting a dog lately.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yeah. I just don’t know if I can handle walking it right now.”
“I can help!”
“Brett lives in Philadelphia, honey,” I remind her.
Her face falls. “Oh, yeah . . . I forgot.” But the wheels are already churning inside that small head of hers. “I only have one more week of school so I could do it for the summer. I could stay at your house!”
I turn to give Brett a “see what you’ve done” stare.
He doesn’t seem the least bit ruffled. “I’ll have to think about it, Brenna. A dog is a huge responsibility.”
She’s already thinking about it plenty. “I know. But there’s three of us. Mommy and I could live with you at your house—”
“No, Brenna.”
“Why not? Brett has a big house.”
“Just because.”
“Because why?”
There’s no point explaining the more obvious reasons for us not moving in with Brett.
“Because that’s a long drive for me to work.”
“Why do you have to work, anyway?”
I stifle my exasperation. “We’ve already had this conversation.” At least twenty times, the concept still escaping her. “I have to work to make money, so we have somewhere to live, and food on the table, and clothes on our bodies, and—”
“But Owen Mooter said that Brett is super rich so can’t he—”
“No!” That damn Owen Mooter kid again. I cast an apologetic look Brett’s way, but he’s merely smiling, as if amused by the entire conversation.
“Brenna, I promise we’ll get you a dog when the time is right. Now come on. Help me put the cart away.”
She grabs the other side of the handle, chattering on about what kind of dog Brett should get—a boy dog, surely, because Brett is a boy—and what he should name it as we cross the parking lot to the cart station. I let her give it a shove in, and then we’re turning to head back to the car.
Scott Philips is just ahead of me.
Chapter 29
He was paying attention, his eyes on his phone screen, so by the time Scott notices me, he’s a mere four feet away. He stops short. “Catherine?”
He looks like the photo in the newspaper, though less put together, his coffee-colored hair mussed from the light breeze, his jeans and Muse T-shirt casual. That youthful air about him still exists, though dulled considerably.
I’m vaguely aware of the small clammy hand tugging against my mine. “Mommy, who is that?”
“No one.” I pull Brenna against my thigh, willing my legs to move. In all the times I’ve played this scenario in my head, I had been able to stroll past him, show him that he’s no longer a thought. And yet now my legs are frozen.
Scott lowers his gaze to her, the fine lines across his forehead that were airbrushed out of his picture now clearly visible. “I was your mom’s art teacher in high school.”
“Really? Did you teach her how to draw houses?”
My stomach twists, watching his hazel eyes twinkle with his familiar smile. “I actually didn’t teach your mother all that much. She was a natural artist.”
You taught me a lot of other stuff, though.
“Are you still a teacher?”
“I’m taking a break.” There’s no missing the twinge of bitterness in his voice. I wonder if he’s blaming me for this latest turn of events, too. Considering he’d likely still be teaching, his neighborhood blissfully ignorant of the snake living among them, had I not saved Brett.
My anger unexpectedly flares.
“Cath, you okay?”
So distracted by my shock, I haven’t noticed Brett making his way over until he’s right there. If he’s seen pictures of Scott in the news, he doesn’t seem to recognize him now, though his face says he knows something is wrong. “Yeah. I’m fine. We were just going.”
“This was Mommy’s teacher,” Brenna says, oblivious of the tension. “He taught her how to draw.”
Brett’s face hardens immediately as he turns to face Scott. He has at least five inches and forty pounds on him, and even supported by crutches, he somehow looms threateningly. I’ve never seen Brett as anything but kind and charming and gentle, and yet right now, his jaw is clenched so tight, his body so rigid, I’m beginning to wonder if he isn’t going to try and beat Scott to a pulp, cast or not.
The wariness on Scott’s face makes me think he’s wondering the same.
“Brett, let’s go.” I settle a hand on his chest, pushing him back a touch, adding in a whisper, “People are staring.” He doesn’t budge. I add even lower, “Brenna.”
That snaps Brett out of it almost immediately, his hand settling gently on the top of her head. He peers down at her.
And then back again to Scott, lingering for a long moment, before I’m finally able to usher him toward my Escape. I don’t miss Brett’s low growl of “Stay away from her” as he passes.
“That teacher was kind of weird,” Brenna says as she climbs into her booster seat. Normally I’d ask her why she’d say that, but now I quietly watch her fumble with her seat belt from the rearview mirror.
A warm hand settles on my knee. “You okay?”
I nod. “I knew that would happen sooner or later. Lou warned me that he was back.”
“Well, now it’s happened and we move on. It’s all in the past, right?”
I force a smile. “Right.”
“Okay, I’m ready!” Brenna announces, kicking her legs.
Brett turns to regard her for a long moment, a pensive look on his face. I don’t pry, though. I’m too busy wondering if we need to move out of Balsam.
Chapter 30