she was too old for dolls, he didn’t know. No family pictures. Luke frowned. Every guy he served with carried a photo of somebody. His mom had pictures of the three of them—Matt, Meg, Luke—scattered around the house. Taylor ought to have a picture of her mother. Still, there was a stack of school books on the desk, a rocking chair in the corner, a collection of shells spaced out along the windowsill. Signs, he hoped, that the kid was making herself at home.
A judge will look for evidence that you can provide for Taylor
, Kate Dolan reminded him earnestly.
Her physical needs. Her medical care. Her emotional well-being
.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, and he wasn’t just talking about a drink of water.
Taylor shook her head.
“Okay.” He took his hands out of his pockets. Nothing else he could do tonight.
She looked so little against the pillows of the bed. Was he supposed to tuck her in or something? Matt would know. He should have asked Matt.
“Well . . .” Luke cleared his throat. “Good night.”
She slumped deeper under the covers. “’Night.”
Dismissed
. Relieved, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and turned toward the door.
“Do I have to move now?” a small voice asked behind him.
He froze. Shit, oh, shit. He did
not
want to get into this conversation on his first night home.
We’ll make it work
, he’d told Kate.
You don’t understand how it is in a military family.
He did. He’d moved four times before he was eight years old. Somehow his mom had held them all together, making each reassignment seem like an adventure. With Matt watching out for him, with Meg charging ahead, Luke had never felt lost or alone.
Back to back to back
. The rallying cry of his childhood.
And then Dad retired, and his parents bought the Pirates’ Rest, and the island became home. For most of his childhood, Luke had run as wild as the island ponies, protected and free.
He’d figured it would be the same for Taylor.
But maybe he’d taken too much for granted. Maybe the Simpsons were right. In four short months, the kid had lost her mom and relocated twice. Maybe she wanted it all back—her old friends, her old school. Her old life.
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth.
Slowly, he turned. “Do you want to move?”
He watched—shocked, terrified—as tears sprang to her eyes. “Uncle Matt said I could stay.”
“Okay. Jesus. Don’t cry.”
Her tears panicked him. Marines did not cry. And if they heard her downstairs, his family would never let him hear the end of it. Major Fatherhood Fail, his first night home.
She sniffed mightily. “You’re not supposed to swear.”
Shaken, he groped for his bandanna. “Yeah, you’re right. You don’t have to . . . You’re not going anywhere, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
Together. Somehow
.
She knuckled her eyes in a gesture that tore his heart.
“Here.” He thrust the bandanna at her and dropped into the rocker while Taylor mopped her eyes and blew her nose. His own throat constricted. Burned. He cleared it noisily. “You okay?”
Her head wobbled up and down.
“Good. That’s, uh . . . good.”
Okay, dumbass, make this right
. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, thinking fast, going with his gut. “Here’s the deal. I’ve got thirty days’ leave coming before I have to go anywhere.” After that, he probably had another three months, training, before he deployed again. But that was a discussion for another day. “I want to be with you. You could stay in your room here, but a month’s too long for me to be bunking in a guest room. So I figure I’ll talk to Grandma and Grandpa about renting the other cottage out back. For the two of us.”
Taylor nodded, more decisively this time. “Like Matt and Josh.”
He released his breath in relief. “Yeah.” His parents would probably be glad to have the rent in the off-season. “Everybody will still be around, to take care of you and stuff, but we’ll have our
A judge will look for evidence that you can provide for Taylor
, Kate Dolan reminded him earnestly.
Her physical needs. Her medical care. Her emotional well-being
.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, and he wasn’t just talking about a drink of water.
Taylor shook her head.
“Okay.” He took his hands out of his pockets. Nothing else he could do tonight.
She looked so little against the pillows of the bed. Was he supposed to tuck her in or something? Matt would know. He should have asked Matt.
“Well . . .” Luke cleared his throat. “Good night.”
She slumped deeper under the covers. “’Night.”
Dismissed
. Relieved, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and turned toward the door.
“Do I have to move now?” a small voice asked behind him.
He froze. Shit, oh, shit. He did
not
want to get into this conversation on his first night home.
We’ll make it work
, he’d told Kate.
You don’t understand how it is in a military family.
He did. He’d moved four times before he was eight years old. Somehow his mom had held them all together, making each reassignment seem like an adventure. With Matt watching out for him, with Meg charging ahead, Luke had never felt lost or alone.
Back to back to back
. The rallying cry of his childhood.
And then Dad retired, and his parents bought the Pirates’ Rest, and the island became home. For most of his childhood, Luke had run as wild as the island ponies, protected and free.
He’d figured it would be the same for Taylor.
But maybe he’d taken too much for granted. Maybe the Simpsons were right. In four short months, the kid had lost her mom and relocated twice. Maybe she wanted it all back—her old friends, her old school. Her old life.
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth.
Slowly, he turned. “Do you want to move?”
He watched—shocked, terrified—as tears sprang to her eyes. “Uncle Matt said I could stay.”
“Okay. Jesus. Don’t cry.”
Her tears panicked him. Marines did not cry. And if they heard her downstairs, his family would never let him hear the end of it. Major Fatherhood Fail, his first night home.
She sniffed mightily. “You’re not supposed to swear.”
Shaken, he groped for his bandanna. “Yeah, you’re right. You don’t have to . . . You’re not going anywhere, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
Together. Somehow
.
She knuckled her eyes in a gesture that tore his heart.
“Here.” He thrust the bandanna at her and dropped into the rocker while Taylor mopped her eyes and blew her nose. His own throat constricted. Burned. He cleared it noisily. “You okay?”
Her head wobbled up and down.
“Good. That’s, uh . . . good.”
Okay, dumbass, make this right
. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, thinking fast, going with his gut. “Here’s the deal. I’ve got thirty days’ leave coming before I have to go anywhere.” After that, he probably had another three months, training, before he deployed again. But that was a discussion for another day. “I want to be with you. You could stay in your room here, but a month’s too long for me to be bunking in a guest room. So I figure I’ll talk to Grandma and Grandpa about renting the other cottage out back. For the two of us.”
Taylor nodded, more decisively this time. “Like Matt and Josh.”
He released his breath in relief. “Yeah.” His parents would probably be glad to have the rent in the off-season. “Everybody will still be around, to take care of you and stuff, but we’ll have our
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