Page 72 of The Homecoming

He took another shot, and Autumn said, “You know, you once told me to not do something stupid.”

He loaded another arrow. “Now what stupid thing should I not be doing?” he asked and aimed.

“Giving up on Rebecca.”

His arrow missed the target.

Autumn ignored the reaction and loaded another arrow as she continued. “You know, he did a number on her. Behind closed doors, he wasn’t necessarily the nicest guy at times.” In her periphery, Weasel stared at her, bow dropped at his side. Sure, this tactic could result in Kyle getting beaten to a pulp if he were still in town, but that was a chance she was willing to take. Despite the crazy reputation Weasel nurtured, he was fiercely loyal and protective of those he cared about.

She hit the target almost in the center before setting the bow down and shaking out her arms, knowing they would be sore the next day.

Danny’s babble came through on the monitor, alerting Autumn that he’d woken up. She left Weasel in the yard without another word.

Once back in the house, she poked her head inside the bedroom door, where Danny squealed in approval at her arrival. She lifted him, holding him on her hip as they both waited on the bottle warmer to be done with his afternoon meal. She heard Weasel walk through the back door and appear out of the corner of her eye.

“I put your bow and arrows on the chair in here,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Danny babbled at Weasel, who smiled at him as the baby held out his fist. Weasel grabbed Danny’s arm and pretended to fist bump him, making Autumn chuckle.

“Ms. Mac,” Weasel said in a low voice, “did he hit her?”

Autumn shook her head. “Not that she ever admitted.”

He stared into her eyes like he was reading her. “Would you tell me if you knew?”

She glared at him as the warmer finished its cycle and she popped the bottle out. Danny, excited at the prospect of food, haphazardly slapped her in the chest as she held the bottle out of his reach until she could double check the temperature. “Yes,” she hissed, crossing to the couch with baby and bottle in tow. He was questioning her because she didn’t tell him about Jason, and that was going to haunt her for a long time. “I’m not deliberately withholding information from you, okay?”

He nodded.

Autumn’s shirt was wet where Danny had leaned against it and inhaled his bottle, but she was also sweaty from being out in the hot, humid weather. She grimaced. “Do you mind sticking around for a while and watching Danny while I get a shower?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Want me to finish feeding him?”

“You?” She sat Danny up to burp.

“Why not? You just stick the bottle in.” He sat in the overstuffed chair.

On cue, Danny belched loudly and spit up formula just as Autumn caught it in the burp cloth.

Weasel stared for a moment before changing his mind. “We can wait until you’re done feeding him.”

Yep, that’s more like Weasel.“You kill deer and drag home the carcasses, and spit up grosses you out?”

He shrugged. “I know what I’m doing there.”

After she fed Danny, she handed him over to Weasel with instructions to keep him upright for at least twenty minutes and not shake him, unless he wanted another explosion of formula. Autumn relaxed in the shower longer than she had since he’d been born. Upon exiting the bathroom, she zipped across the hall to her bedroom and dried her hair with a towel as Weasel was in the middle of telling Danny a story.

“So, we got all loaded up, tactical gear out the ass—vests, masks, shotguns, MP5s. That’s an automatic machine gun, those blow bullets rapidly with a hundred round mag. So, we all head out there, blow this apartment door to shreds, and charge in, yelling for this gang to get on the ground. In the living room, we find an old woman sitting on her sofa, watching Wheel of Fortune and eating a TV dinner. She didn’t even stop eating, she just looked at me and said, “You boys want the apartment next door.” Our search warrant was only for that particular apartment, we couldn’t just go next door and bust in—that’s called an illegal search,” he informed the attentive infant. “And that’s why you never go solely off of informant tips. They might be an idiot or a dope head. Like this one informant who turned out to be a prostitute that’d turn tricks for blow. A blow for blow, if you will.”

“Weasel,” she called from the bedroom. “No, no, donotfinish that story.” She pulled on her pajama bottoms and hurried to the living room. He had Danny sitting on his legs facing him; he supported the child upright as the baby watched Weasel in fascination.

“And the moral of the story is never trust a drug addict,” he hummed playfully before looking up at Autumn. “What? He likes my stories.”

She glared at him. “You don’t tell babies about prostitutes and blow and drug busts. It’s not age-appropriate. You tell him what his fingers and toes are, how to say mama, shapes, puppy dogs, sweet things. Not how to conceal your weapons in street clothes.”

Weasel snorted. “Well, he’s gotta be prepared for when he’s ready to be a member of the force.”

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