His Ordinary Life by Linda Winfree Page B

shuffling Lyssa’s homework into a pile and laying her planner on top. Hell, walking through the minefield of conversation with his teenage son was harder than his first job interview. “Actually, no. I’m staying here.”
    Blake stilled. “Here? In the house?”
    “Yeah. Here, in the house. With you.” He darted a glance at the living room where the girls watched television. All he needed was Lyssa getting the wrong idea about his staying. He’d talk to the girls later, explain why he was here, unless Barbara wanted the privilege of that particular conversation.
    “You don’t need to—”
    “Obviously, I do. Face it, son, whether you like it or not, you broke our trust last night. You have to earn it back.”
    Blake looked away, muttering beneath his breath.
    Angry heat flushed Del’s neck. “Excuse me?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You know, I’m tired of this attitude—”
    “And I’m tired of you pretending you care!” Blake rushed from the room. His stool wobbled and crashed to the floor, followed by the slamming of his door.
    Responding anger rumbled through Del. After returning the stool to its upright position, he followed and opened Blake’s bedroom door.
    Blake, sprawled on his bed, headphones already covering his ears, glared at him. “Get out.”
    The anger burned hotter. “Let’s get one thing straight. You will not slam another door in this house. Got that?”
    Blake’s eyes narrowed further and he pushed the headphones to lie around his neck. “It isn’t your house anymore.”
    It took an effort to unclench his jaw. The disdain evident in the words scalded him. “That’s right. It’s not.” He refrained from pointing out he was still making the damn mortgage payment. “However, I am your father, and I’m telling you…you will not slam another door in your mother’s house again. Understand?”
    Silence.
    “Blake.”
    “I heard you.”
    “Do you understand? No more slammed doors. And this one stays open until you’re told otherwise.”
    “I got it.” Resentment weighted the admission.
    “Good. And one more thing.” Maybe he shouldn’t push this button yet, but he was damned tired of the kid’s attitude. He’d gotten this far, might as well lay out one more ground rule.
    “What?”
    “When you speak to your mother or me, I expect you to use a respectful tone.”
    Blake blew out a breath and clamped his lips closed. He nodded.
    Del eyed his son. An opportunity stared him in the face and he had no idea how to use it, no clue how to begin the conversation they needed to have, or even where that conversation needed to go. He was lost, on a road he’d never really traveled, and he didn’t have a map.
    His face devoid of all expression, Blake dropped his gaze and slid the earphones back into place. He pushed the volume control up on the MP3 player, his posture a clear statement of Del’s dismissal.
    A frustrated growl climbed in Del’s throat and he swallowed it. Yeah, he was definitely lost and he’d just missed his exit.
    * * *
    “So why did you say yes?” Melanie’s words emerged on a pant and she lifted her water bottle to her lips.
    “Because it makes sense.” Barbara walked faster, as if one more lap around the block would put distance between her and the man in her home. A droplet of sweat trickled between her breasts, her damp T-shirt clinging uncomfortably to her back.
    “Oh, bull feathers. The real reason.”
    “That is the real reason. I don’t know what—”
    “Oh, come on, Barbie, this is me.” Melanie aimed a playful pinch at Barbara’s waist. “Tell Melanie all about it. What possessed you to agree he could stay in the house?”
    Barbara lifted a hand at a neighbor out deadheading daylilies. What had possessed her? Complete inability to say no to Del Calvert, that’s what. But she couldn’t tell Melanie that, could hardly stand to admit it to herself. “Seriously, my first concern is Blake. If having Del around will help him, I can handle