Page 87 of Surly Sheriff
20
She’s back
Present day …
Rubbing a hand over his face, Beau placed his feet on the floor and stifled a yawn. He didn’t sleep for shit, tossing and turning most of the night, mulling over the startling fact that Raegan was back in Clearbrook.
With a kid.
A boy.
Hisboy.
A vise closed around his heart, squeezing hard, and he rubbed at his chest. He snapped the bedside light on, and stumbled, bleary-eyed, to the kitchenette even before the alarm clock sounded, Kismet padding after him. He opened the door leading down into the garage, and the dog descended the stairs, his tread not as easy as it used to be. Arthritis was setting in, and some mornings were worse than others.
And this was not a good day.
“Feel you, hound,” Beau muttered, pushing the doorstop in place for when Kismet battled up the steps after his morning routine outside. Turning, his eye caught the other door farther along the wall.
He scowled and grunted. Since the day he turned the key in that lock, he had not stepped back inside the main house. Instead, he had kitted out the attic space above the garage for him and Kismet.
Their life was simple; they needed little. Just a place to eat and sleep, maybe catch the occasional game or late-night news. Beyond that, they split their time between work and family. He harrumphed.Be truthful, Beau.That split was ninety-five percent work and five percent family. Bella bemoaned that fact all the damned time.
He slipped a pod in the coffee machine, a mug beneath the spout, and closed the latch. Gripping the edges of the wooden counter, he dropped his chin to his chest and shut his eyes.
He had dreamed of Rae last night.
Dreaming about her wasn’t an unusual occurrence.
Except the latest one had an added dimension.
The boy.
Was the boy—
Jack.
It was his father’s name. He’d once commented to Rae after the twins’ birth that he wanted to honor his dad by naming their first son Jack.
Was this Jack his son?
He thought of Rae nurturing a baby beneath her heart for nine months.
Had she been alone? Afraid?
“And there you go again, worrying about the traitorous woman.”
And wasn’t that the bane of his life? Awake, the resentment over her desertion sustained him. But at night, concern for her consumed him.
Yes, she had lied about her background.
But during his late-night ruminations, her nightmares had teased his mind.
They had been real.
The fear in her eyes had been real.
The phobias, the trembling, the tears, the confessions …
