Page 1 of Someone to Hold
1
CHASE
I hear shouting as soonas I open the truck’s door, and my booted foot pauses in midair. Definitely kids’ voices—high-pitched and squeaky. It doesn’tsoundlike trouble, but something’s going down in that house. A smarter man might shut the door and drive away.
I’ve never been much for kids. Way too much noise, especially with the headaches that still plague me since being trampled by an angry bull six months ago. But I’m here at my childhood best friend’s house on the edge of Skylark, Colorado, for one reason.
I made a promise.
Not to Teddy McAllister himself. We hadn’t spoken in almost four years before he drowned in a rafting accident two summers ago. Nope, I’m here for his mother.
And if I’m being honest, for me too.
Helping Linda McAllister means giving myself a shot at purpose again, something that’s been in damn short supply since that bull wrecked my body and my career.
Linda told me Teddy’s widow, Molly, won’t be able to put weight on her sprained ankle for at least a month. The right ankleso no driving. But Linda also wasn’t about to cancel her five-week European cruise and land tour to play nursemaid.
So she called in a favor, and here I am.
My boots crunch across the gravel as I climb the three front steps. One of them has a loose board, but I’ll fix that. I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable being handy than trying to be a manny. But here we are.
I knock and take a step back, bracing myself for round one with Molly McAllister.
I’ve seen her around town since my accident. She’s polite—barely—but we both know she can’t stand me. Not that I blame her.
I was there the weekend she married Teddy six years ago. The twins are seven now. You can do the math. Let’s just say it was a shotgun wedding without the shotgun but also very little romance that I could see.
Teddy acted like he should get a gold star for marrying the woman he knocked up after a one-week fling. Although I probably shouldn’t say “knocked up” and definitely won’t say it to her.
Regrettably, I said a lot worse that weekend.
To be fair, I didn’t realize she was standing in the hallway when I told Teddy to call off the wedding and send his bride-to-be packing. I thought I was being loyal and looking out for him, even after he told me to fuck off.
But when I stepped out of the room, Molly’s wide green eyes landed on me with all the force of that goddamn bull. My heart had leapt into my throat, but she’d spun on her heel and retreated down the stairs before I could explain. As if there were words to make her hate me less than she had a right to.
Even though I’d issued the warning as much for her benefit as his.
Teddy McAllister was handsome and charming and had a magnetic energy that drew people—women especially—toward him. He also had a troubled soul and could just as quickly repelthose same people, leaving a trail of pain and heartache in his wake. More than anything, Teddy hated feeling like he was tied down.
I knew in my heart that at best he’d make a terrible husband and mediocre father. And although I didn’t know Molly, I could tell she needed more than Teddy would be able to give her. Deserved more. She’d been so beautiful and bright, like walking sunshine.
Was I jealous? No. Without a doubt, I knew I didn’t deserve someone as sweet and kind as Molly seemed to be. But neither did Teddy.
He went through with the wedding, and she avoided me the rest of the weekend. A few weeks later, I won my first pro rodeo championship. My life got busy, and somewhere between prize buckles and late-night drives to the next town, Teddy and I let our friendship slip away like a mountain creek at the end of summer. Too shallow and rocky to carry anything of value downstream.
I heard from my sister that he and Molly had twins, but I didn’t hear another word from him. I didn’t reach out either. Maybe I didn’t want to hear how wrong I’d been. Or maybe I didn’t want to be right.
But I never forgot her eyes that night.
So yeah, I’m surprised as hell she’s willing to accept my help now. I’m the guy who called her a mistake, and she’s letting me into her home.
I guess in some cases, desperate times call for assholes.
The door flies open before I can knock again, and a tow-headed boy with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glares up at me. He’s wearing cargo shorts, no shirt, and there’s a jam smudge on his cheek.
He takes one look at me and backs into the house again. “Stranger danger!” he yells. “Mommy! There’s a stranger at the door! He’s driving a white van!”
Well, shit.
