Page 47 of More than Need

“He’s thirty-five. Mum and Dad only planned for one kid, but then surprise, she got pregnant with me.” Dawson grinned. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to them. I tell Marshall all the time that obviously he wasn’t enough, and they needed me in their life.”

“Yes, who doesn’t need that kind of excitement?” Riley said with a wry half smile.

Dawson nudged him with his knee and stole one of his chips. He smiled as he chewed. “Did you always want to be a cop?”

“Yes.”

“Not going to elaborate?” Dawson took another chip, so Riley swapped their plates.

“His dad is a cop,” Gideon offered. “Lucas is a firefighter, and two of his brothers were in the military. Danny still is. Regimented lifestyles are in the Sinclair blood.”

Dawson wisely didn’t mention the lack of blood relation. Riley had never considered himself anything but a Sinclair, regardless of his blood type or DNA.

“Did you always want to be a gardener slash handyman slash jack-of-all-trades?” Gideon asked, expertly moving the conversation to safer topics.

“No, actually,” Dawson said. “I wanted to play in the AFL.”

“Most kids do at some point or other,” Gideon said.

“True,” Dawson said, grinning ruefully. “I played VFL, but I injured my shoulder before the draft, and I wasn’t picked.”

“You have a very physical job. I assume the injury healed enough you could play again if you wanted?”

Dawson fiddled absently with his spoon. “They told me that I should focus on recovery, and for sure I’d be picked up the next year. It’s happened to others, and the dream wasn’t really dead, just postponed. A couple of months later I got a job in a nursery, owned by one of my best friend’s parents, and I found I really loved it. And the rest is history.”

Riley shifted uncomfortably. The addition of “one of my,” insinuated that he didn’t mean Sadie. Who else could he be talking about? Were they speaking half-truths now, to avoid the subject?

“Didyoualways want to be a cop?” Dawson asked Gideon. Finished with his own food—and Riley’s—he started helping Gideon eat the potato wedges left on his plate. “It’s your turn.”

“Sort of?” Gideon answered. He dipped the last potato wedge into what was left in the small bowl of sour cream and then the sweet chili sauce and popped the whole thing in his mouth. “I went to university first and got a degree in criminology because it fascinated me. Then when I graduated, I had no idea what I wanted to do, so I applied to the force, and I liked it. Guess I don’t do too bad a job since this guy hasn’t fired me yet.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is that what you hope Hudson will do?”

“Fuck, no,” Gideon said, laughing. “If I wanted him to be me, I would have done that weird thing where I named him after me. Last month he wanted to be a firefighter, the month before that he wanted to dance, the month beforethathe wanted to be a chef, and this month, he wants to be a footy player because of Auskick. If he turns around one day and says he wants to be a cop, then cool. But it will be because he wants to, not becauseIwant him to be. I don’t believe in pushing those expectations on a child. He’s got plenty of time to decide for himself.”

“I bet you’re a fun dad.” Dawson smiled, leaning back with a hand on his stomach. No doubt pleasantly full; he’d eaten essentially two meals, plus a milkshake heavy with extras. It reminded Riley of his brother Danny, who needed constant feeding to fuel his large frame.

“I’d settle for just beingadad,” Gideon said. He shrugged and finished off his iced coffee. “The unpredictability of my job means I can’t do many sleepovers with him. I don’t spend as much time being there for him as I’d like to.”

“I bet he doesn’t see it that way.”

“The divorce has been harder for him than for us, I think. We knew it was coming; he didn’t. Me moving out has only made that worse.”

“Do you get along with your ex?” Dawson asked.

“She’s my best friend, and that hasn’t changed.”

Riley finished his coffee as he listened absently to their conversation. Learning more about Dawson and opening the door for whatever this ended up being? It would eventually blow up in their faces.

He knew that, and he’d still opened the door.

Chapter 8

Gideon let himself intoAnge’s cosy little three-bedroom house with his key. He almost dropped the goodies in his arms as he shoved the door open with his ass. The letters from her mailbox slid to the floor. He thought about picking them up and then shrugged. Doing it now would cause everything else to fall. He’d come back for them.

“That better be you, Gid.”

---