American Lease (A Dylan Cold Novel Book 1) by K. D. McAdams

starters.
    “Hey Dylan,” Ryan said cautiously.
    “Hi Ryan. Did you take care of Montana for me?” Dylan asked with a big smile.
    The ten-year-old averted his eyes. “Mom says I’m not allowed to talk to you. She let me give Montana food and water, but she wouldn’t let him in the house,” he said. “Sorry, I tried, even lost my iPad for a day because I snuck him in once.” Ryan smiled weakly.
    “Thanks for feeding him. He’s pretty wimpy, though. A few nights outside probably did him good.” Dylan felt bad for damaging the trust that had been put in him.
    “Did you go to jail?” Ryan asked with awe.
    “A long time ago I made some mistakes and yes, I did go to jail.” Dylan let his head drop.
    “No, I mean like, yesterday? Are you coming home from being in jail?” the boy asked with even more amazement.
    “Not really. I saw a bad guy do something and I was working with the police and some other people to figure out why the bad guy did it,” Dylan lied. Immediately, he regretted it.
    “Ryan. Come inside right now,” Eliza called from the side door of the house.
    “Awwww, but mom he was helping the police,” Ryan whined but he walked away from Dylan.
    The landlord and mother passed her son about halfway between the door and her tenant. She was serious and rigid; this would not be a welcome home speech.
    “I expect you to be gone before it gets dark. I told you there was a child in this house and I wouldn’t tolerate any funny business. He looks up to you so much. Why did you have to go and break his heart?” She searched his face for an answer.
    “I’m sorry I lied to you about my past, but it has nothing to do with what happened,” he said. “I’m not a bad guy; I just have rotten luck.” Dylan hated excuses but it was the truth.
    Dylan had always gotten along with Eliza. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part. She was initially concerned about Montana, but once she realized that he almost never barked and Ryan could get the benefits of having a dog without the hassle of owning one, she had liked him a lot more.
    In the past she’d accepted tenants who promised to do odd jobs for a hundred bucks off the rent. Most of them either nickel-and-dimed her with notes that they changed a light bulb or performed some other mundane task and wanted a steeper discount on their rent. When Dylan had floated the arrangement, she refused, and still he had done more handiwork around the property than anyone else in years.
    When he wasn’t at work or doing small projects for her, he was tossing the football with Ryan. The two of them would be outside for hours at a time, playing catch, running routes, and diagraming plays. Ryan had grown from a clumsy little kid into an athletic boy under Dylan’s guidance.
    In August, Ryan had begged to play football. Eliza had been comfortable rejecting the request immediately, but it had taken Dylan’s words and support to make Ryan understand and accept the ruling.
    With Dylan, there were never empty bottles or cigarette butts in the yard. His truck was clean and his language was even cleaner.
    Dylan shook his head at the injustice. A seven-year-old drug conviction felt like a bad reason to kick him out. Suspicion of murder was a fine reason, but he had just been cleared of that, sort of.
    “So if I need a reference, would you be willing to give it without mentioning my past?” Dylan asked, hoping for a tiny remnant of good will.
    “Do you have a place in mind?” Eliza asked in return. She suddenly sounded unsure of what she was going to do.
    “Well, I was hoping you would give me a few days to find one. Me and Montana sleeping in the truck is a little rough.” Dylan rubbed his hand on the back of his head and down to his neck.
    “It’s not the stuff from this weekend that bothers me. The lying is what I’m upset about. You should have told me you had a record and that you had paid your dues to society,” she answered.
    “Would you have rented to