Rowan sat in the chair opposite him. “Really.”
“Yeah. He died though. Before I was born.” Huck shoveled the noodles into his mouth, wearing much of the sauce on his chin. “Right, Mom?”
Oh. “Right.” She met Rowan’s eyes. “Good man.”
Rowan drew in a breath. “I see.”
She turned away. So maybe…oh, no, no. How was she supposed to do this?
A knock came at the door, and she looked over to see his friend come in. Dark hair, a military build. “I’m getting a ride to town with the fire crew. I’ll find my own wheels. You coming?”
Rowan looked at Sierra, back to him. “I’m sticking around here.”
The man glanced at Sierra, back to Rowan. “Alrighty then. Stay frosty.” He shook his head and headed out.
“What does that mean?” Huck said.
“Oh, it’s just a military term that means, you know, watch out for danger. Stay alert.”
“Like be careful?”
Rowan glanced at Sierra. “Something like that.”
She frowned, then walked over to Huck. He’d finished his food. “You need to get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“But I’m not tired.” Huck’s eyelids drooped as he said it.
“Nice try. Upstairs, teeth brushed, in bed in ten minutes.”
“Can Rowan tell me a story?”
Sierra felt her carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.
“I don’t think?—”
“I’d be happy to,” Rowan said quietly. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
Sierra looked at her son’s hopeful face, then at Rowan’s steady gaze. “One story. Then bed.”
“Yes!” Huck pumped his good fist in the air. “Come on, Rowan. My room’s upstairs.”
Oh boy.
But she needed a hot minute here to gather her thoughts. She rinsed the plate, then put it in the dishwasher, then wiped the table and then…just stood at the window above the sink and stared out at the barn’s remains.
How could it be that she got Rowan back the same day she nearly lost him?
She pressed the towel to her face, shaking.
The sound of Rowan’s voice drifted down from upstairs, too quiet to make out words but carrying the cadence of someone spinning a tale. Huck’s occasional laughter punctuated the narrative.
What was he doing here, in her house, tucking her son into bed like he belonged here? And every minute he stayed…
Except he wasn’t staying, was he? His expression on the street when she’d asked him exactly that told her…
I don’t know.
No, he wasn’t planning on sticking around. Which meant she couldn’t count on him. Not really.
