Page 8 of Reckless Encore

Whoa.

He stepped back and clutched the railing behind him. Foster care no longer inspired giddy feelings of potential parental bliss like it had before their first attempt. How could it when bringing a kid into their home had almost ended their marriage?

They’d been assigned a teenager to look after, when they hadn’t even known the first thing about parenting.

Olivia, the stick-thin sixteen-year-old had turned up on their doorstep. Her bright blue eyes had been wide, her fine blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She’d seemed sweet at first. Quiet and shy. Then the disobedience had started. She wouldn’t go to school, wouldn’t show up for dinner. Some nights, she didn’t even come home.

It didn’t take long for things to go missing—money, instruments, jewelry.

When Red searched Olivia’s room, she found drugs. Recreational and medicinal. Along with a stash of money and a heap of Melody’s clothes.

Things went downhill from there.

“Red,” he pleaded. “Sweetheart, we’ve been over this.”

“We only tried once. And we had no clue about teenagers back then.” She implored him with her eyes. “We know better now. For years, I’ve looked after all those kids out there.” She flung an arm toward the door. “They’ve probably spent more time sleeping over at our house than they have with their friends. We know them. We know what it’s like.”

No. They only knew snippets. But there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman. “It’s not about knowing better. It’s about the risk of losing you. Olivia almost broke us. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

She shook her head. “We’re stronger now. We’re settled. We’ve got money. We’ve got a big property. We have a great support network who can talk us through any struggles. And if we get another teenager, they’ll already have an established group of friends to make them feel at home.”

“Hey. I get it.” He grabbed her wrist, trying to calm her rambling while ignoring his pain at not being enough for her. He’d thought she’d gotten over this. He’d stupidly assumed the menagerie of animals at their house had filled the void. “We’ll talk it through once the weekend is over.”

“Really?”

Jesus. There went his heart. With her one pleaded question, he knew there was no stopping the upcoming rollercoaster. “If it’s what you want, then, yeah. We’ll figure out how to make it work. We’ll prepare better.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath, and this time her smile was pure and big and bright. “Thank you.”

“I’m not the gatekeeper here, Red. We make decisions together, okay? If you need something, you have to tell me.”

“I know.” She nodded and stepped into him, snuggling his chest. “But I also know how much you don’t want this.”

“Idowant it.” If it meant her happiness, he’d foster a stack of kids. Hell, he’d wrangle an entire nation if it meant another one of her smiles. “We’ve got this, Red. We’ll make it work.”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her while the echo of voices carried from inside.

“We should make a start on dinner.” She spoke into his chest.

“Good idea. The sooner we eat, the sooner we get to drink.”

“And the sooner you guys get to horrify those poor kids with stories from your glory days.”

“Hey.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Sidney started that tradition. Not me.”

“Somehow, I think she intended to have nice stories shared. Not the ones about Mason streaking through Vegas. Or you and Blake locking Mitch out of his hotel room while he was naked.”

He reached for the door with a laugh. “We’re teaching them to learn from our mistakes.”

“Sweetie, I think all you’re doing is giving them ideas.”

Chapter Three

Maya sat on the splintered log in front of the fire, her belly full and her head tired from half a day of travel.

Dinner had come and gone. Night had arrived. And now the whole gang grouped in the backyard in front of the campfire to go through the annoying ritual that accompanied every vacation.

“Do we have to do this again?” she whispered to her sister. “The least they could do is come up with new stories.”

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