Page 39 of Challenged by the Single Dad

Who was she talking to?

He didn’t see any marigolds on the ground, but that didn’t mean anything considering it wasn’t marigold season. But was she celebrating Día de los Muertos too? And if so, who was she honoring?

He needed to go.

She deserved privacy.

He never should have approached her.

Hoping that he’d stuck to the shadows enough, and she hadn’t seen him yet, he spun around to go, only to bump into a giant tree uprooted long ago. The base of it was taller than he was and facing the ocean, but he hit it hard enough that it knocked the duffel bag off his shoulder and made him swear out in pain.

“Hello?” she asked into the darkness. “Is someone there?”

Well, fuck. Now he couldn’t just book it and pretend he’d never been there.

Rubbing his shoulder, he picked up the duffel bag, sighed, and turned around, stepping out of the shadows of the low-hanging madrona trees. “It’s Dom. I’m sorry.”

“Dom?” She stood up from where she’d been on a blanket in the middle of the candles. “What are you doing here?”

“I …” How the hell was he going to explain this one? “I was down the beach and I saw your candle flames so I came to make sure whoever was here was okay.” Well, that was a lie. He was just fucking curious. “But when I realized it was you and you were … doing this, I tried to leave quietly only to walk straight into that giant-ass tree and drop my bag.”

Her brows narrowed. “What are you doing down here on the beach so late?”

He swallowed. “I was, uh … it’s the eve of Día de los Muertos and I was honoring my, uh … my late wife.” He cleared his throat. “It’s supposed to rain the next two nights, so I came tonight.”

Her eyes flew open wide. “Oh!”

“Wh-who are you here for … Or … I-I mean … who are you honoring?” Was it wrong of him to assume she was honoring someone who had passed? Maybe she was a witch, or practiced wiccan and was doing some warding off evil spirits or something. Or putting a curse on someone who wronged her.

Was she putting a curse on him? After all, he hadn’t exactly been very nice to her.

Why would she need a soccer ball though?

Her lips twisted and she glanced forward toward the photos that he couldn’t see from the angle he stood at. “My son.”

Oh, fuck.

“He, uh … he passed away four years ago. He was eight.”

Dom’s gut plummeted to his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head to the side to indicate he should join her and they should sit on the log behind her. He hesitated for just a moment, then stepped forward but didn’t take a seat. He could tell she’d been crying. And much like he had done for Remy’s altar, Chloe had food—chicken nuggets, french fries, a hamburger, cookies, and a milkshake—spread out in front of the photos along with the soccer ball and a few other smaller objects.

Her breath rattled a little when she exhaled through pursed lips. “He, um … it was a snow day in February where we were living in North Dakota, and Elliott went over to a friend’s house. The friend had a pond in their backyard on their farm and it had frozen over. The boys were told to wear life jackets when they went onto the ice and to steer clear of the furthest section as the ice wasn’t as thick.”

Dom could already tell where this was going, and he was getting sicker by the moment as he put himself in her shoes and thought about how he would feel if it were Silas.

“Anyway, as you can guess, they took off their life jackets, and they went to the far side. Elliott fell through the ice and …” She swept the tears away from beneath her eyes.

“Where were the friend’s parents?”

“Inside the house. They thought the boys would listen and follow the rules. They didn’t see a problem letting them go out alone. By the time their son ran to get them, Elliott had drowned.”

“Chloe … I am so, so sorry.” Then it hit him. He’d gone and said she didn’t need Halloween off because she had no kids. Fuck, he was a prick. He tore the hair elastic out of his hair and ran his fingers through the strands. “And I’m really fucking sorry for what I said the day of your interview. That you didn’t need Halloween off because you didn’t have any kids.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.” She kept her gaze focused forward. “Wyatt asked if I had kids and I said no.”

He peeked up at her, though he kept his head bowed. “Doesn’t fucking matter. It wasn’t okay. It was wrong. I was an absolute asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it.”

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