Page 21 of Awakening the Sheriff

My temper was slow to rise, but few things got me as pissed off as parents putting kids in the middle of their battles. “If that’s true, it would be despicable.”

“She didn’t want full custody because of her job, so that made things easy. But now she seems to revel in playing the ‘fun mom’ role while I’m left being the disciplinarian.”

Things started to make sense. “That’s why Byron said he’d rather live with her. She does fun stuff with him.”

“She only has them during the weekend or on breaks when they have little schoolwork and few responsibilities. It’s a hell of a lot easier for her to focus on fun things than it is for me.”

We’d finished sorting by now, and I put out the manual. “If you start with step one, I’ll begin somewhere else, and we can join our parts later.”

Hopefully, that would work, but that was of later concern.

Keaton fumbled with the tiny LEGO bricks, his fingers struggling to find purchase as he attempted to piece together the first few steps. His brow was furrowed, and he bit his lower lip in concentration, clearly out of his element.

“Ugh,” he muttered after accidentally knocking over a section he’d just painstakingly assembled. “I don’t know how my sons did this when they were little. They were more skilled with these things back then than I am now.”

“Practice makes perfect. I’ve built more than my fair share of these sets. And being patient helps.”

He groaned. “There’s that dreaded wordpatienceagain. It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.”

He sighed but picked up the instruction manual and fumbled through the pages, trying to find where to start again. It was endearing.

“Ah, found it! Now let’s see if I can manage not to mess this up too badly the second time around.”

“Take your time.”

He pieced the section together again. He wasn’t well-versed in the art of LEGO building, but his determination was admirable.

Keaton squinted at the instruction booklet. “I think this piece goes…here?” He held up a tiny brick, hovering it above the section he was working on.

I took a quick look at the manual. “Almost.” I nudged his hand to the correct spot. “There you go.”

“This really is your thing, huh?”

“Yeah, I started building after my divorce, and I never stopped.”

“I can see why. It’s pretty relaxing when you know what you’re doing, I’d imagine. And it’s nice to have something to focus on other than work or…well, everything else.”

“It’s an escape.”

“An escape,” he mused. “I like that.”

“Since I think it’s safe to say this is not your thing, what do you do for fun?”

He looked up. “You’re gonna think it’s the most boring thing ever.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You’re talking to the guy with LEGO sets in his man cave rather than pictures of naked women.”

He chuckled. “True.” He took a deep breath. “Remember what I talked about with Tiago during the dinner? Poetry. That’s my big passion. I love poetry.”

Of course. It made complete sense, considering his profession. “What kind of poetry? And when you answer that, please keep in mind I’m both interested and know absolutely zilch about poetry other than what I learned in school.”

“What do you remember?”

“That Walt Whitman was gay and Lord Byron was romantic. And I’m sure if I dig deep, I should be able to quote some Shakespeare. Or does he not count as a poet?”

“He does, his sonnets especially.”

Oh wait, I knew one. “There’s one about the summer’s day, right? Something about being more lovely and more temperate?”

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