Meant-to-Be Mum. Karen TempletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
against his thigh as they walked outside and the kids raced ahead “I really hate it when you pity me.”
“That’s not pity, it’s looove.” Cole groaned; his sister laughed before giving him a one-armed hug. “I’ve missed you, twerp.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” And amazingly enough, he meant it.
Brooke let out a shriek at something Wes said to her, and Diana chuckled again. “They’re going to be fine, honey,” she said softly. “And so will you.”
“I am fine, Di.”
She gave him one of her looks. “No, you’re not. And don’t argue with me, I know you a helluva lot better than you know yourself. You need someone, Cole.”
Yep. Still the same pain in the ass as ever.
“I have someone. Two someones, in fact.”
“Not what I mean, and you know it.” She paused. “I didn’t regret for one minute my decision to stay home with the boys. But if Andy hadn’t been there, too...” Cole could feel her gaze on the side of his face. “Raising kids is hard. Raising them on your own—”
“Is not beyond the realm of possibility.” Bemused, Cole lowered his eyes to his sister’s. “And if you even try to fix me up, I will kill you.”
She laughed. “Not to worry. Every woman I know who’s even reasonably the right age is either married, insane or a skank. Sometimes all three.”
“You need new friends.”
“Tell me about it. But you need—” she rubbed his arm, her voice gentling “—to put yourself out there, sweetie. And don’t give me any flak about having the kids full-time. Because they’re always welcome here while you—” her mouth twitched “—search.”
Smirking, Cole ignored the headache trying desperately to take hold. His sister meant well, she really did. But even if he had the time—or energy—to pursue a relationship, right now was about the kids’ needs. Not his. Because damned if he was going to do to them what their mother had.
“Thanks for the offer, but we’re good.”
Then he hotfooted it down the walk before she could regroup. A talent at which Diana excelled.
* * *
Despite his aching head—which the kids’ near-constant bickering behind him for the past ten minutes hadn’t helped—Cole smiled for the trio of wriggling, curly-tongued pugs swarming Brooke and Wes when they got back to his parents’ house.
“Let ’em out,” he said, dumping his keys on the same little dish on the table by the front door that had been there forever, as the beasts raced through the modest bungalow and through the now-open patio door. Cole quickly unloaded the bag of food, stuffing what needed to be refrigerated into the old white side-by-side before joining kids and dogs outside.
The yard wasn’t particularly large, but it backed onto a wooded parcel separating the neighborhood from a secondary highway. Dimly, Cole could hear that same hum of traffic that used to lull him to sleep at night as a kid, that had served as a comforting backdrop to now-forgotten conversations.
Maybe not so forgotten.
Expelling a breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood on the cement patio, willing the almost-cool evening breeze to unclog his brain, relax the muscles strangling the base of his skull.
Ironically, his sister’s prodding about the future—the one she saw for him, anyway—had only jerked awake another scene from his past, of a scrawny sixth-grade girl who’d had no trouble verbally smacking down that trio of bullies, all twice her size, who’d been making Cole’s life a living hell. Trying to, anyway. Since in reality their ass-hattery hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as it apparently had her.
His mouth curved in spite of himself as he remembered the good times, of how natural and easy things had been between them.
Until an influx of rowdy hormones drowned out every ounce of intelligence and common sense Cole had possessed, blinding him to who, or what, Sabrina had become—
“Dad? You okay?”
He hadn’t even realized Wes had plopped into one of the patio chairs, long legs stretched in front of him, his pant hems hovering north of his ankles. A trip to the mall was in order, Cole thought, suppressing a shudder. “Sure.”
“Really? Because you’ve been, I don’t know. Weird.”
Out in the yard, Brooke threw a ratty old tennis ball for the dogs, laughing when they all tripped over each other trying to get it. Smiling, Cole crossed the patio to sink into the chair next to Wes’s, then leaned forward to link his hands between his knees. “Hey. Weird is my middle name.”
The kid snorted a laugh through his nose. “Okay, weirder. Seriously, on the way back from Aunt Di’s? You didn’t even tell Brooke and me to stop messing with each other.”
“And you’re complaining?”
“I’m... Well, no. I guess. But...” Something made a peeping sound in the woods. Frog? Bug? “I thought you said you and Sabrina had been best friends?”
“We were.” Brooke flopped on the grass in the fading light, then writhed in laughter as all three dogs assaulted her with sloppy kisses. “Actually, she saved my butt when we were kids. Thinks she did, anyway. Took on a bunch of bullies who apparently took issue with the way I looked.”
“Took on? As in, beat them up or something?”
Cole laughed. “Bree’s a lot tougher than she looks, but...no. Read ’em the riot act, though. And pointed out her twin brother, who was easily twice her size. And theirs. But like I said, we hadn’t seen each other in years. And I certainly wasn’t expecting to see her today. Or her, me.” He glanced over at his son. A breeze ruffled the kid’s too-long hair, almost as curly as Cole’s. He looked back out over the yard. “So it was definitely strange.”
“So, what? You guys just hung out together and stuff? You didn’t date?”
“No,” Cole said mildly. Truthfully. Although with a slight, if insistent, pinch to his chest. “We spent most of our time at the Colonel’s. But sometimes here. Where it was a lot quieter.”
“Quieter?”
“The Colonel and his wife Jeanne had adopted four kids—including Sabrina and her twin brother—and then had a baby of their own right about the time Bree and I met, in middle school. Add to that everybody’s friends...place was definitely hopping.”
“And Mom couldn’t even handle two kids,” Wes muttered, and Cole’s gaze snapped back to his son. He’d given Bree a severely edited version of the story, of course. Partly because he was hardly going to air his—or, in this case, his ex’s—dirty laundry to someone he hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. But partly because he was ashamed, truth be told, that he hadn’t made it his business to find out what exactly had been going on. Then again, how would he have known, if the kids didn’t tell him?
But in the past few days, the truth had leaked out bit by bit, how often Erin would leave them on their own, or forget to pick them up, or even when she was there, retreat to her room and computer rather than interacting with her own children. He’d assumed, since she’d fought for primary custody, they’d be her priority. Instead, they’d apparently been so far down the list they were barely on her register.
His eyes burning, Cole reached over to clamp his hand around the back of his son’s neck. God knew Cole was still jerking awake at night, heart pounding at the realization that no one was coming to get them on Sunday. That he was it. At the same time, no one was ever going to take them away, either. Ever again. Or leave them alone, or ignore them, or let anything—or anyone—come between them.
“All in the past now, buddy,” he whispered. “Not that I know how to handle you guys, either—”