pushed the truck into the car, making a major crash. “Yep. And milk to drink.”
“Milk it is.” Slade grabbed the jug of milk.
Mia set a loaf of bread on the counter and then found the peanut butter and pulled out a skillet. “We could have something easier.”
“I think I can handle buttering bread and spreading peanut butter and jelly on it.” Slade found a knife and paper plates.
Making the sandwich was nothing compared to standing in Mia’s kitchen, thinking about holding her again. He sure hadn’t expected that to be the thought rolling through his mind as he buttered six slices of bread and stacked them on a paper plate.
Mia had moved away from him. She was sitting next to Caleb, showing him something with the truck. A moment later a battery-operated engine roared to life and Caleb shouted that it worked. Mia spoke softly to his son.
Slade spread peanut butter on three slices of bread and pretended that nothing in his world had changed in the past five minutes. But he knew he’d be lying to himself.
Chapter Five
M onday morning the alarm went off early. Mia started to hit snooze, but she knew that Slade would be showing up with Caleb. Jackson would be showing up, too, bringing the mare she needed to care for. She shook her head as she rolled out of bed. How did she get herself into these situations?
She dressed and then she walked down the hall to make tea. Before anyone showed up, she had plans. She brought her gun out of the gun cabinet. She left the ammo in the lockbox. No need to load the gun. She just wanted to see if she could make it work.
But it didn’t work. She held the unloaded weapon in her right hand and eased it up, letting her hand rest on her left arm. Pain shot up her arm into her shoulder and she eased it back down. She wouldn’t cry. The pain wouldn’t make her cry. She tried to flex her fingers, praying they’d do what she commanded, but they wouldn’t.
She picked up the weapon with her left hand and pretended to aim. She’d never been able to do more than scribble with her left hand. She’d always wished she had been born ambidextrous, like her brother, Travis. She wished it now more than ever.
Maybe if she worked at it long enough, she might be able to learn to shoot left-handed. She could teach her brain. She would make this work. Because without her job, what would she be?
That’s the question she’d been asking herself for weeks. Who was she without her job? The DEA psychologist had made her write out a list. Sister. Daughter. Friend. Granddaughter to Myrna.
Sister to Breezy—if Breezy was still out there somewhere. She remembered her little sister, curly brown hair and dark hazel eyes. The day their mother died, the social workers had taken them all to Family Services. They’d been placed in a temporary home, together, until family could be found.
In the end, Mia had been the only one without biological family that could be traced. But she’d survived. God had given her the Coopers. She didn’t regret. No regrets. Just sometimes emptiness, wondering about her little sister.
Breezy didn’t seem to exist anymore. She wasn’t on any social networking sites, not with her given name of Breezy. She didn’t appear on any state websites. Which just meant she hadn’t been in trouble with the law. No criminal record, anyway.
A truck with a rumbling diesel engine pulled into her driveway. Mia looked out the window. Slade’s truck. She opened the front door and waited. He helped Caleb out and grabbed a bag from the back. The two walked up the sidewalk, Caleb in jeans, boots and a T-shirt. He pushed his straw cowboy hat back and smiled at her. Vicki’s smile. It didn’t hurt, not the way she expected. Caleb was Vicki’s son. He had her smile. He had her ability to make people look at the bright side.
Her gaze shifted up, to Caleb’s daddy. No one else she knew could make that deputy’s uniform look so good. Slade did it with a casual strength. His white
“Milk it is.” Slade grabbed the jug of milk.
Mia set a loaf of bread on the counter and then found the peanut butter and pulled out a skillet. “We could have something easier.”
“I think I can handle buttering bread and spreading peanut butter and jelly on it.” Slade found a knife and paper plates.
Making the sandwich was nothing compared to standing in Mia’s kitchen, thinking about holding her again. He sure hadn’t expected that to be the thought rolling through his mind as he buttered six slices of bread and stacked them on a paper plate.
Mia had moved away from him. She was sitting next to Caleb, showing him something with the truck. A moment later a battery-operated engine roared to life and Caleb shouted that it worked. Mia spoke softly to his son.
Slade spread peanut butter on three slices of bread and pretended that nothing in his world had changed in the past five minutes. But he knew he’d be lying to himself.
Chapter Five
M onday morning the alarm went off early. Mia started to hit snooze, but she knew that Slade would be showing up with Caleb. Jackson would be showing up, too, bringing the mare she needed to care for. She shook her head as she rolled out of bed. How did she get herself into these situations?
She dressed and then she walked down the hall to make tea. Before anyone showed up, she had plans. She brought her gun out of the gun cabinet. She left the ammo in the lockbox. No need to load the gun. She just wanted to see if she could make it work.
But it didn’t work. She held the unloaded weapon in her right hand and eased it up, letting her hand rest on her left arm. Pain shot up her arm into her shoulder and she eased it back down. She wouldn’t cry. The pain wouldn’t make her cry. She tried to flex her fingers, praying they’d do what she commanded, but they wouldn’t.
She picked up the weapon with her left hand and pretended to aim. She’d never been able to do more than scribble with her left hand. She’d always wished she had been born ambidextrous, like her brother, Travis. She wished it now more than ever.
Maybe if she worked at it long enough, she might be able to learn to shoot left-handed. She could teach her brain. She would make this work. Because without her job, what would she be?
That’s the question she’d been asking herself for weeks. Who was she without her job? The DEA psychologist had made her write out a list. Sister. Daughter. Friend. Granddaughter to Myrna.
Sister to Breezy—if Breezy was still out there somewhere. She remembered her little sister, curly brown hair and dark hazel eyes. The day their mother died, the social workers had taken them all to Family Services. They’d been placed in a temporary home, together, until family could be found.
In the end, Mia had been the only one without biological family that could be traced. But she’d survived. God had given her the Coopers. She didn’t regret. No regrets. Just sometimes emptiness, wondering about her little sister.
Breezy didn’t seem to exist anymore. She wasn’t on any social networking sites, not with her given name of Breezy. She didn’t appear on any state websites. Which just meant she hadn’t been in trouble with the law. No criminal record, anyway.
A truck with a rumbling diesel engine pulled into her driveway. Mia looked out the window. Slade’s truck. She opened the front door and waited. He helped Caleb out and grabbed a bag from the back. The two walked up the sidewalk, Caleb in jeans, boots and a T-shirt. He pushed his straw cowboy hat back and smiled at her. Vicki’s smile. It didn’t hurt, not the way she expected. Caleb was Vicki’s son. He had her smile. He had her ability to make people look at the bright side.
Her gaze shifted up, to Caleb’s daddy. No one else she knew could make that deputy’s uniform look so good. Slade did it with a casual strength. His white
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