“Bedtime,” Sierra announced.
“Can’t I stay up a little longer? It’s Saturday.”
“It’s after nine, and we have church in the morning.”
“Five more minutes?”
“Now.”
Huck sighed, a little dramatically, but he got up. “Night, Mr. R,” he said.
“Night, big Huck,” Rowan said and held out his fist. Huck banged it and then trudged upstairs with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man.
“He’s a good kid,” Rowan said.
“He is.” Sierra began gathering empty popcorn bowls and glasses. “Gets that from his father.”
The words hit Rowan like a slap. Aw, shoot.
Sierra had a child with another man, had built a life with someone else. And while the logical part of his mind had accepted this reality days ago, hearing her mention Huck’s father so casually made it real in a way that left him breathless.
“Sierra—”
“I should clean up.” She stood quickly, clearly needing distance.
But Rowan caught her wrist. Gently. “Wait.”
She looked down at him, her pulse visible in the hollow of her throat.
“Talk to me. Please.”
Sierra sank back onto the couch. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. These past ten years, what happened to you, how you ended up…” He gestured vaguely toward the stairs where Huck had disappeared, then stopped. He had no right to ask about her relationships, no claim on her past.
“How I ended up with a son?” Her voice came out steadier than her expression suggested.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” She pulled her wrist free and tucked her hands in her lap. “I got pregnant without meaning to, but he’s my entire world.”
Each word felt like a knife between his ribs. She’d gotten involved with someone else pretty quickly after he left, it seemed, had been pregnant while he was stumbling through advanced training.
Maybe even during his first deployment.
“What happened to his dad?”
Sierra’s breath caught. “I told you. Died serving his country.”
The irony was brutal. Another soldier, another man who’d chosen duty over family. At least Rowan had reasons—anger, and then forces beyond his control.
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“We managed.”
“You shouldn’t have had to manage alone.” The words came out rough, probably weighted with his own guilt and regret.
“We weren’t alone. We had Grandpa.”
