Dylan's Daddy Dilemma. Tracy Madison

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СКАЧАТЬ she saw Chelsea and Henry. “I see we have company,” she said. “Let me guess...car problems?”

      “Hey, Haley. And yup, you guessed right,” Dylan said. “This is Chelsea and Henry, and their car doesn’t seem to like the cold weather all that much. They...ah...didn’t have anywhere to stay, so I figured they could sleep upstairs. Just for tonight.”

      Relief filtered in, wiping out most of Chelsea’s nerves. Someone else was here, and that made all of this seem much more normal. She loosened her hold on Henry.

      “Okay,” Haley said, as if such an occurrence happened on a regular basis. And hey, as far as Chelsea knew, strangers often slept upstairs. Then the woman knelt in front of Henry. “Hello there,” she said. “Remember me? I brought you your hamburger and fries for dinner.”

      “’Course I remember. You forgot the dip,” Henry said. “But you got it after I told you.”

      Haley laughed. “That’s right.” A series of raps on the door had her straightening into a stand. “That would be Gavin,” she said to Dylan. “Are you all set, or...?”

      “We’re good. Go home and get some sleep.”

      “I think I will.” Haley waved at Chelsea and Henry before giving Dylan a quick hug. “See you all tomorrow,” she said, unlocking and opening the door. “Sleep tight and don’t—”

      “Let the bedbugs bite!” Henry said, finishing Haley’s sentence. “Mommy says that all the time, except she tells me to let the love bugs bite.” He scowled. “I don’t want any bug bites!”

      “Aw, that’s cute,” Haley said with another laugh. “Well, then, just sleep tight.”

      Dylan locked the door behind his sister and Chelsea’s former apprehension returned. Not as strong, but still potent. Sensible, she knew, even with the normalcy of the exchange between Dylan and Haley. Better to be on guard and prepared than oblivious and taken by surprise.

      “Anyone need anything before we head upstairs?” Dylan asked.

      “It’s too late for soda,” Chelsea said to Henry, anticipating his response. “If you’re thirsty, you can have water.”

      “Can I have a root beer tomorrow with lunch?” Henry asked. “You won’t let me have soda for breakfast, so I won’t ask for that.”

      “Yes, Henry,” she said, too tired and nervous to worry about tomorrow.

      “He really likes root beer, I take it?” Dylan didn’t wait for a reply, just gestured toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. “Let’s go on up and get you settled.”

      “I like this new fresh start, Mommy,” Henry said, following Dylan without a second’s hesitation. “The other house was nice, but this one is better. It has the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen and they have burgers and fries and real live fights! Pow, pow!”

      “We left right after that fight started,” Chelsea explained as they climbed a narrow flight of stairs, pretending with everything she had that she was as comfortable as Dylan seemed. “And he was a little bummed to miss the excitement.”

      “You know, Henry,” Dylan said, opening the door at the top of the stairs. He reached in and flipped on the lights. “Fights might seem exciting, but they’re dangerous and not the best way to settle a disagreement. Typically, anyway. So you didn’t miss much.”

      “To him, it was noisy and fun.” Wrong, probably, but Chelsea felt the need to defend Henry’s enthusiasm. “He’s just a child and hasn’t yet connected fights with violence, because he has had zero exposure to violence. Which is how it should be.”

      “Yup, that is exactly how it should be. I wasn’t condemning his view, just pointing out a different one. That’s all.” Herding them into the brightly lit room, Dylan said, “When I was a kid, me and my brothers were almost always in some sort of a skirmish. It’s natural.”

      “Right. I just... I thought you were... Never mind.”

      “You thought I was remarking on your parenting skills or something along those lines?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe.” To change the subject, she asked, “You said your brothers, as in plural? How many? Older or younger?”

      “Two. One older, one younger.”

      She waited for additional details, but he didn’t offer any. Disappointed, though she couldn’t put into words why, she said, “I have one sister. Younger.”

      “That’s good. Family is important.”

      “Depends on the family,” she said, thinking of her upbringing. Her father’s near-constant state of displeasure, with just about everything, really, but most often focused on Chelsea. Her mother’s passive disregard or worse, when she chimed in with her own cruel words in an effort to appease her husband rather than standing up for her kids. And Chelsea’s inability to succeed in their eyes, despite her many attempts. “Some families aren’t very family-like.”

      Dylan gave her a question-filled look but didn’t comment. That was fine. She didn’t talk about her family with anyone. Not the details, at any rate. Her response had been made out of nervousness and a need to keep the silence at bay.

      “We’re sleeping here?” Henry spun in a circle, taking in the space. “There aren’t any beds! Mommy, we could build a fort under the table. Like an inside tent!”

      Chuckling, Dylan said, “This used to be the living room. Now it’s a meeting space.” He deposited the overnight bags and Teddy on the large rectangular table before nodding toward the adjoining kitchenette. “There should be water bottles in the fridge, and you’ll probably find some snacks in the cupboard. Nothing fancy, but my family likes to eat.”

      “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Chelsea said. “And really, this is so nice—”

      “Can we make a fort?” Henry ran over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. “Like that time we didn’t have any beds? Remember, Mommy?”

      Heat flooded her face. Of course she remembered. It had been after the fire, and most of what they’d had was too smoke damaged to keep. Months had passed before she’d replaced even half of the items they’d lost. She’d never replaced her bed, but Henry’s she had.

      And even that awful set of circumstances had been better than this.

      “Yes, Henry, I remember. But I don’t know about building a fort. This isn’t—”

      “No reason to, not that forts aren’t fun. But that room over there,” Dylan said, “used to be the bedroom. We’ve turned it into a break room of sorts. There’s a couple of sofas that you two can sleep on, and there should be plenty of blankets and a few pillows in the closet. You’ll have privacy. Bathroom is back there, as well. Make yourself at home.”

      “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Chelsea repeated. “This is nice of you. More than nice.”

      “Nice is nice. I’m not sure what being more than nice entails.” Dylan shook his head, frustration appearing in the rigid set of his shoulders. “I’m not doing anything that any other decent person СКАЧАТЬ