Page 27 of Lone Star Country Protector
“Or an instrument?”
Chase’s face lit up. “Like guitar?”
“Sure,” Dalton said, unsure if he’d just opened a can of worms. No one would accuse him of being a good parent. Or of being in a position to give advice to a kid. There was a reason he didn’t spend much time with anyone under the age of twenty. He didn’t have the first idea what to do with them or what to talk about with them. “Why not?”
“That would be awesome,” Chase announced. “Do you think I can quit soccer?”
“What does your mother say?”
“That I can do whatever I want after I finish the season,” Chase recited.
“Sounds like good advice right there.” Dalton wouldn’t argue with teaching a kid to follow through on his commitments.
“What about my friends?” Chase asked in earnest. “Won’t I be letting them down if I quit?”
“A real friend would want you to be happy,” Dalton said after a thoughtful pause. “Would you want your friend to stay on a team if they weren’t happy?”
“No, course not,” Chase responded. His eyes widened when it dawned on him. “And they wouldn’t want me to play if I wasn’t happy.”
“Real friends will be there no matter what,” Dalton said, wondering when the last time he could say that about another human being had been. Growing up, he’d been close with his family. Now, he had the occasional poker night with a few folks from work and not much else.
His life had never felt empty until thinking about it in those terms. Until now.
What was he going to do about it?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the front door. Blakely stepped out, looking more beautiful than she had a right to.
After she joined them, he set out for the closest substation.
“What are all the policemen doing at your house, Aunt Blakely?” Chase asked. His innocence deserved protection.
“They’re helping,” Blakely said without hesitation. “Do you remember how we talked about how important it is to look for the helpers if something goes wrong?”
“Uh-huh,” Chase said.
“Your mom had an accident, so a lot of helpers showedup to take care of her,” Blakely explained. Dalton couldn’t think of a better way to explain a stressful situation to a kid. She had a knack for parenting whether she realized it or not. An image of her holding their child stamped his thoughts.
Where the hell did that come from?
* * *
Blakely took adeep breath. After giving statements while Chase played in a witness room and driving to the hospital, she fixed a second cup of coffee while waiting for her brother-in-law to show.
Dalton circled the waiting room a second time in a matter of minutes as they waited for word from the doctor. All they knew so far was that Bethany had lost a lot of blood and was in stable condition. The doctor wanted to speak to Blakely before allowing any visitors. Her mind kept snapping to wishing she could head to her chambers to check out her files. The identity of the bastard determined to kill her must be hiding in those documents.
She flexed and released her fingers a couple of times to work off some of the frustration. No one got to make her afraid anymore. The exception was this sick sonofabitch coming after her sister or nephew. Of that, she was scared beyond reason.
“Hey.” Dalton’s calm voice, his deep timbre, brought light to the darkest places inside her. “Bethany is going to be fine, and we’ll find the bastard responsible if the law doesn’t do it for us first.”
She glanced over at Chase. “I’m more worried about him right now.” Another dark thought struck. “And what if he comes back for Bethany? You heard the person we talked to at the substation. There aren’t enough resources to monitor my sister’s room twenty-four-seven.”
“True,” he agreed, and she appreciated him not tryingto Pollyanna the situation. “I’ll speak to the floor nurses and see if they’ll keep an extra eye on your sister’s room.”
“Thank you,” she said. She’d been planning to do that herself but didn’t want to leave Chase in the waiting room until his father arrived. She checked her watch. Where was Greg?
Speaking of her brother-in-law, the man came zipping into the waiting room looking rough. His jeans and a button-down, collared shirt were the only casual things about him as he rushed into the room.
“Daddy,” Chase exclaimed.
