The fib was necessary since she didn’t need Glen to come over and the two men to once again bump heads. Or worse, throw hands.
Her phone vibrated again.Of course! I hope he feels better soon.
Glen was such a good guy. Unlike the one hanging outside her place.
She glanced over her shoulder and listened for Ledger. Since the house was quiet, she closed her eyes and contemplated her next move.
Go watch a movie in bed and hope Zeke was gone in the morning? Or go outside and deal with him? Hopefully, he’d eventually get the hint that she didn’t want him in her life. She thought she made it clear at the fairgrounds.Hell, she thought she made it clear when she left four years ago.
Either way, she decided to check on Ledger first.
When she peered around his bedroom door, she saw him sitting in the middle of his Thomas the Train rug surrounded by colorful Duplo bricks.
She pushed the door open wider. “What are you building, buddy?”
Her heart squeezed when he glanced up and smiled at her. “A twain.”
He looked so damn much like his father. And grandfather. The genes had to be strong in that family to keep producing carbon copies.
“A train? Like the one we rode on the other day?”
He nodded his head like it weighed fifty pounds and it was an effort. “Uh huh.”
“Okay. You can play for a little while longer. I need to go handle something important, then I’ll be back shortly to help you clean up your toys and brush your teeth.”
“Otay, Mommy.”
Well, maybe not exact carbon copies since Ledger wasn’t stubborn. Not yet, anyway.
A second later, his face scrunched up. “You goin’ somewheres?”
“No, I just need to step outside to take care of something.”
“The boogeyman?”
“Close enough,” she muttered under her breath. Louder, she said, “No, a visitor.”
“Gwen?”
“No, buddy. But Glen said he’ll take us out for ice cream soon.”
“I like ice cream!”
“Me, too. Okay, stay in your room until I get back. No matter what.”
“Otay, Mommy.”
She studied her son for a few more seconds before closing the door and heading back to the front of the house. After tucking her feet into the slip-on shoes left by the door, she paused to take a deep, bolstering breath.
Then she set her jaw, pulled open the door, and stepped outside, securing it behind her.
“‘Bout fuckin’ time.”
He’d been perched sideways on his motorcycle with the heels of his biker boots resting on the cement curb and his denim-covered ankles crossed. Even in the dimly lit street, she could feel his intense gaze burning a hole right through her.
He flicked what was left of his cigarette away, then rose to his feet.
She had made sure to keep a good ten feet away from him. Unfortunately, he closed that gap within two strides.
