LITMIR.BIZ

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nephew. At this age, Reggie spun fantasies about his dad being a superhero who would swoop in to rescue him if trouble threatened. All Wade Hunter had to do was show a little kindness, and he’d capture the boy’s heart.

      In reality it was Adrienne who’d swooped in to rescue Reggie. And she suspected that once this stranger tired of playing Daddy to a kid with real needs, she’d have to do it all over again.

      Might as well wait until Monday to tell Reggie. She’d rather keep everything normal for him as long as possible.

      * * *

      WHEN WADE EXITED the freeway at Safe Harbor Boulevard, he inhaled the briny tang in the air with bittersweet nostalgia. This used to be his home. After six years away, he felt like a stranger.

      Although he kept in touch with his father, Daryl, and they met for the occasional camping trip or for a weekend of watching NASCAR races, Wade rarely made the nine-hour drive to his hometown. His last visit had been years ago, and memories of a wrenching argument with his grandfather still stung. Now he figured he’d stay with Daryl while he secured his claim on his son and put out feelers for a job in the area.

      Having worked at the Safe Harbor Police Department early in his career, Wade had applied there, but the department’s tight budget meant there were no hiring plans. He’d received the same response at other nearby agencies.

      But while he might not be able to provide little Reggie a home instantly, he intended to demand custody as soon as it became feasible. As for the kid’s aunt, he appreciated that she’d stepped up to the plate in the past, but with a sister like Vicki, how reliable could she be, even if she was a doctor?

      Wade steered his black sports coupe downhill from the freeway. At barely eight o’clock on Sunday morning, not much was stirring. He’d left Pine Tree late last night after working a final shift at the warehouse. Every paycheck counted.

      To the south, he glimpsed an expanse of blue where the Pacific Ocean sprawled beyond the town’s namesake harbor. Wade could also see the six-story medical center where Vicki had barred him from the maternity ward after Reggie’s birth. Based on whatever she’d claimed about him, a guard had escorted him out, refusing to let him hold his son. Maybe he should have hired a lawyer and insisted on his rights, but the situation had caught him unprepared.

      Anger and shame twisted inside him as he stopped for a red light. He’d do things differently now, but at twenty-four he’d been unsure of what it meant to be a father.

      When he’d told his captain at the police department about Vicki’s threat to file for a restraining order if he insisted on contact, the man had warned him to keep his distance. Pay the child support and be more careful who he hooked up with in future had been the gist of the captain’s remarks. Wade’s father had put it more succinctly: Save yourself. Get the hell out of Dodge.

      Now everything was about to change. He had a son, and he refused to let anyone stand between them.

      Except that you have no idea how to be a father. Daryl hadn’t been much of a role model, acting more like a buddy than a parent. And in Pine Tree most of Wade’s socializing had been with other bachelors.

      Well, he intended to learn. There were books and the internet and, he hoped, some long-dormant instincts.

      A few blocks farther, he turned into an apartment complex and parked in a visitor’s spot. Carrying his laptop, his guitar and a duffel bag containing essential gear, he followed a path to the manager’s unit.

      Carefully, Wade twisted the knob. His father, who got free rent by handling caretaker duties in addition to his job as a mechanic, had promised to leave his place unlocked rather than be awakened this early.

      The instant the door opened, the smell of beer hit him. He stopped, uneasy. His father had a tendency to go on occasional drinking binges, punctuated by periods of sobriety. Daryl always claimed he could control his drinking, and despite serious doubts about that, Wade realized he had no power to run his father’s life.

      He was reaching for the light switch when he heard a snore. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, Wade made out his father sprawled on the couch, sitting with his head thrown back as if he’d fallen asleep while watching TV. A couple beer cans littered the coffee table, but the TV was off. It must have a sleep setting.

      Morning light, faint as it was, proved unkind to Daryl Hunter. Even at this angle, Wade could see the pallor of his father’s skin, the red veins in his nose and the thinning hair. Some of that might merely be signs of age, but—quick mental calculation—his dad was only fifty-two. At roughly the same age, the police chief in Pine Tree looked healthy and fit. Or had until he’d gained a few worry lines over the layoffs.

      Stepping softly to avoid disturbing his father, Wade headed into the bedroom. The smell of unwashed sheets gave him pause. He hoped this was a weekend spree rather than an indication that his father’s condition was deteriorating.

      Daryl had left his career as an Orange County deputy sheriff years ago, supposedly because he hated the shift schedule, although later Wade had wondered if alcohol had been a factor. Then he’d worked for a while at Grandpa Bruce’s detective agency, Fact Hunter Investigations, but Daryl and Grandpa had butted heads. Not surprising considering Bruce’s rigid nature, which was one reason Wade wouldn’t consider applying there now.

      After depositing his cases on the carpet, he went out to his car and brought in his large bag and bedroll. In the living room, Daryl had shifted position and was now snoring full force.

      Wade unrolled the sleeping bag on top of the bed and took off his shoes. As he lay waiting for sleep, he conceded that two things had become obvious.

      He should forget about trying to find a job through his father’s contacts; if Daryl was drinking heavily, a recommendation from him was more likely to work against Wade than for him. Also, the sooner he found a job and his own apartment, the better.

      * * *

      BY NOON THE rackety-rackety sound of skate wheels outside put an end to Wade’s sleep. Irritated, he prowled out of the bedroom and said a quick hello to his father, who nodded from the small kitchen table. Daryl had poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice.

      “Sorry, no welcome party.” His father gave him a shaky smile. “Extra key’s on the hook there. Bottom left.” He indicated a Peg-Board.

      “Thanks.” Wade took it and went to shower, using the towels he’d brought. Then he stripped the bed, collected dirty towels and a box of detergent and went next door to the complex’s laundry room to start a load. Since he’d taken over this chore at thirteen following his parents’ divorce, the process felt familiar.

      Back at the unit, Daryl had gone out, leaving a note that he was showing an apartment to a potential renter. Wade poured some cereal and checked his email while he ate. The attorney had confirmed a meeting at his office tomorrow with Dr. Cavill. The messages said she was willing to grant a supervised visit with Reggie on Tuesday, the boy’s birthday.

      A supervised visit? The hell with that. Wade didn’t appreciate having this lady boss him around, and he didn’t plan to wait two days to see his son, either. Nervous energy surged through him. My boy. Although he didn’t yet have a sense of Reggie’s personality—how could he?—he felt a connection deep in his gut, a longing that he’d strained for years to deny. He was angry, too, at the woman who’d put him in this position and at himself for yielding.

      How would the little boy react to meeting his dad after all these years? While it might be awkward, he hoped Vicki’s sister had had the decency to prepare her nephew for this major life change.

      He recalled meeting Adrienne only once. She was blond like Vicki and had barely acknowledged the introduction, muttering an excuse about her busy schedule before brushing past him and out of the house. She’d been in her last year of medical school, as he recalled.

      The lawyer had claimed that Adrienne was unaware that her sister had tried to wreck his career and that he’d made regular child-support payments. Maybe, maybe not.

      By

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