Page 73 of Awakening the Sheriff

He’d told me he’d had a nasty confrontation with her, but we hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss the details. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It’s your birthday. We had such a good day. I don’t want to spoil that by talking about my troubles with my ex-wife.”

I took his hand and laced our fingers together. “I want to know. Seriously.”

He searched my eyes, then nodded as if reassured that I meant it. “She’s been telling Byron all these lies.”

He recounted their conversation and the way she’d set up Byron against him, feeding him all these false promises and telling him nothing but lies. My fist clenched involuntarily. What kind of person did that? How could she even call herself a mom?

I forced myself to take a deep breath, focusing on the cool condensation dripping down the side of my beer bottle. “It’s good you confronted her, but I can’t even imagine how upset you must be. Are you planning on telling Byron the truth?”

Keaton traced the worn woodgrain pattern on the table with his fingertip. “I don’t know. Would he even believe me at this point? He’s been angry with me for months now. If I tell him, he’ll only accuse me again of trying to come between him and his mom. Maybe it’s better for him to discover on his own, even if it hurts.”

I winced. “It’ll break his heart if he finds out his mom betrayed him.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to prevent it. What would you do?”

I gently shook my head. “It’s hard to imagine Tricia ever doing that. She loves the girls as much as I do, and we’ve always respected each other as parents. You have to be on the same page, you know, especially with teens, or they’ll play you against each other.”

“I thought that’s what Mandy and I had agreed to, but now I’m doubting if she ever intended to honor that promise.”

“You know your son best. Trust your instincts.”

Keaton nodded, seeming to take solace in my words. We sat in companionable silence for a moment, laughter and video game explosions drifting in from the living room. “They’re having fun,” Keaton said softly, and we smiled at each other.

“My Dani is a miracle worker. She can make anyone feel comfortable.”

“She takes after you.”

I frowned. “But she’s—”

“They’re both yours. You’re their father, Auden. Marnin is their sperm donor. There’s a big difference. Dani does take after you because those social skills you’re so proud of? She learned them from you. Nurture is often more powerful than nature.”

His words warmed my heart. “Thank you. They’re my life, those two.”

After he and Milton had gone home, I couldn’t shake the concern that had lodged itself in my chest when Keaton confided in me about his fight with Mandy and the lies she’d told Byron. He was trying so hard to be a good father, but life seemed determined to throw obstacles in his path. I wished there was more I could do to help him, but the one thing I needed to get on urgently was scheduling that third community service session with Byron. That had been on my to-do list for far too long.

I grabbed my phone and, with a decisive tap, added the task to my to-do list for next week. It wouldn’t be easy—Byron was a tough nut to crack—but for Keaton’s sake, I was willing to try anything.

26

KEATON

The front door clicking shut behind me was a small mercy, signaling the end of an exhausting day. God, I couldn’t wait to hang out with Auden at his house tonight. But first, dad duties called.

“Byron, Milton, I’m home!” I hollered, dropping my keys on the hallway table. A few seconds later, Milton appeared, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, buddy.” I gave him a quick hug. “How was your day?”

“It was good. Jay and I hung out for a bit after school, and we played Xbox at his house.”

I was so relieved Milton was at least settling in and making friends. And Jay was a nice kid, quiet and serious, but a perfect match for Milton. “Glad you had fun.” I scanned the living room for Byron. “Where’s your brother?”

Milton shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe in his room?”

“Thanks, kiddo.” I ruffled his hair gently, earning a bashful grin, then walked upstairs toward Byron’s room. I knocked on the door, but there was no response. He must have been lost in his music again, his headphones drowning out the world. I knocked again, louder this time, but still nothing.

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