Page 71 of Bad Love

I'm low onoptions.

And if I call the school and explain to Rory, he'llunderstand.

Time's tickingaway.

I hit a contact on my phone, my gaze locked onHunter's.

15

The doorI knock on is black set against yellow painted brick, with a sign that says, "BumblebeeChildcare.”

The woman who opens it looks to be in her sixties, with fluffy gray hair that she pats as she takes me in. "Hello—oh,my."

Her gaze sweeps me, and when it returns to my face, it’s full ofappreciation.

I flash her a smile that makes her blink. "Mrs. Talbot. I'm Logan. I'm here forRory."

"Rory?" Her voice sounds faint, and Ifrown.

"Kendall said she was gonna callyou."

She sucks in a breath. "Yes. She did. Please call meAnita."

"Sure thing, Anita." I follow her in, shutting thedoor.

Women like me. In track pants, in a suit, or in a button-down, like today. It’s not women I’m worriedabout.

It’s a kid I’ve seen once, with judgment in his eyes. And fair enough because his mom was in my lap the first time we met. I don’t have much experience with children—since most of my friends are still single—but I’m guessing that was something of ashock.

I’ve been to two dozen countries but have never felt as out of place as I do surveying the entryway. Hanging on hooks are a bunch of sweaters that look small enough to fit a dog. Books litter the floor. Off to the right is a kitchen with stacks of clean, brightly colored dishes. Around the top of the room, instead of molding, is a banner withletters.

I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to look more at ease than I feel. "Nicealphabet."

"Thankyou."

The reality is I don't know what I’m going to do with Rory. If you’d told me twenty-four hours ago I’d be spending time solo with Kendall’s kid, I’d have laughed you out of the room. But the way Kendall's face transformed when she got that call, the worry and pain that seeped into my bones just from watching her, I couldn't sayno.

A redheaded kid appears in the doorway, pulling up as his eyes latch onto me. His hair’s short, making his eyes seem even bigger. He has a little nose like Kendall and a pointy chin not like Kendall. He's wearing a sweater with some logo I don't know and cargo pants over redsocks.

I force myself to swallow. I’ve stared down casting directors for global brands. I can take this half-pint with eyes likeKendall’s.

I squat. "Rory, I'm Logan. Do you rememberme?"

Henods.

"Great. Your mom said she called to let you know I'd be getting you." I'm not getting any responses. "Ah. That cool withyou?"

Eventually I start for the door, but he doesn'tfollow.

"We have to pack up his things," Anitatranslates.

I wait while they disappear, returning a moment later with a brown leatherbackpack.

"Figured you'd have a cartoon bag or something." I nod toward the three other backpacks arranged by the door, each of which is brightlycolored.

He doesn't answer. Just looks at me with the most serious version of Kendall'seyes.

Shit. What if the kid doesn'ttalk?

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