Page 81 of At the Edge of Surrender

Four weeks.

“No,” I muttered beneath my breath. “Ted needs you.”

My stepfather was a great guy and normally wouldn’t be so needy, but he’d had neck surgery a couple of months ago, and he still hadn’t completely recovered. I knew it’d been hard enough for Mom to be here the last few days, worrying about him, but she also wanted to be here for her only grandchild.

She emitted a sound so stricken with sadness that it crushed me anew. “I know. I just…don’t know how to take this step.”

I didn’t either.

I had no idea how to force myself out of this car.

My insides felt like they were going to rupture out of me when the front door suddenly cracked.

It slowly…slowly opened as if the man knew he was a harbinger of destruction as he eased out onto the covered porch.

A whir of darkness and light surrounded him, spinning so fast it was disorienting.

“Hey, look it, Auntie! It’s our favorite friend, Mr. Kane!” Maci shouted from the back seat. She kicked her feet in excitement. “Ifinkhe must be really very nice if he wants us to come and stay with him. And he’s got an extra super big house! Youfinkhe’s got stairs in there?”

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to give her the full details of the situation. Couldn’t tell her that he was her father. That this was her new home.

My spirit moaned with the reality of it.

“Yeah, I see him.”

“Well, we better hurry it up since he’s waitin’ for us!” She yanked at the straps of her car seat.

I inhaled a fragmented breath, and Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be alright,” she whispered.

I squeezed back so tight it was likely constricting the flow of blood in her fingers.

I could only nod.

Pray.

Hope.

Then I cleared the sogginess from my consciousness and forced myself to toss open the door, only side-eyeing the man who stood at the top porch step looking like a freaking poster child for bad decisions.

Seriously, what had my sister been thinking?

Guilt clamped down on my spirit.

What hadIbeen thinking?

Except I had my answer as I peeked up with a furtive, covert glance.

The man was dressed in jeans and a loose, blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up his inked arms. Warm locks of golden-brown hair fluttered in the slight breeze.

Energy rolled from him.

Intense and deep.

Sex and sin.

Shadows and mysteries that crawled across the surface of his skin.

I could feel the weight of those hypnotizing eyes.

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