that direction, but until a test can be done we don’t know for sure. I can place a call to child services. They can find a local foster home.”
The sheriff’s words caused the pain sitting square in Justin’s gut to radiate throughout his body.
The entire room faded as the memory of his father yelling, words slurred thanks to the alcohol running through his veins, took over. He’d often threaten him, Billy Joe and Racy with horror stories of being shipped off to child services. At the time, the unknown hell he’d described sounded a lot worse than the hell they were living.
“Justin?”
Racy’s voice pulled him from the memory, in time to see the door close behind Gina. She must think he was actually going to—
He turned back to his sister and Gage when he felt a small hand, clammy and cold, against his own. He looked down. Jacoby stood next to him, squeezing his fingers, and those dark eyes stared up at him.
“He’s coming home with me,” Justin said.
The boy didn’t speak or smile, but the haunted look that filled his eyes when they had tried to get information about his mother from him faded.
“You sure?” Gage asked. “What kind of condition is the cabin in?”
“It’s a mess but livable. I’ve been staying there for the last couple of weeks.”
“Having a little boy around is totally different from being there alone,” Racy added. “Do you have enough food? What about heat? It still gets pretty chilly at night. We’ve got room at our place—”
“We’ll be fine,” Justin insisted. “The fireplace is working. And I can’t believe you’re really asking me—the best cook you’ve got—if I’ve got enough food.”
Racy smiled at that. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Gage told me you got those antique kitchen appliances working again, but—”
“No buts.” He hoped the confidence in his voice sounded real, because the words rang hollow as they rolled off his tongue. “We’ll be fine.”
An hour later, he wasn’t so sure.
He’d finished loading his truck with Gage’s help, then he and Jacoby headed out. Seeing his place through the eyes of a child who stood in the doorway clutching his meager belongings made him realize the cabin was more a construction zone-slash-bachelor pad than a home.
It had grown dark on the ride out to the lake and the only lights in the cabin were in the kitchen, the bath and one secondhand lamp sitting on the floor in the living room. He’d turned on the lamp, and a fire helped warm up the place, both in temperature and looks.
He didn’t say much to Jacoby except to repeatedly warn him away from the tools and construction materials that seemed to fascinate the boy. Of course, the kid hadn’t said two words since he’d hugged Racy’s dog goodbye at The Blue Creek.
“I’ve got to get some stuff out of the truck.” Justin stood near the open door, the dark night an alluring draw. “Just sit there until I’m done and don’t touch anything, okay?”
Jacoby looked at the folding chair that sat inches off the floor. He dropped into it, pulling his pillowcase to his feet and tucking his bear into his lap. The bag, torn and dirty, was definitely on its last leg.
Justin could relate.
What in the hell was he doing? He didn’t have any experience with kids other than being one himself. Agreeing to bring Jacoby home had been instinct, born out of his hellish childhood memories. He was flying blind here, praying he was doing the right thing.
Whatever that might be.
He stepped outside, leaving the oak-planked door open, glad for the screen door he’d installed just yesterday. The overhead lamp automatically came on, lighting up the porch that ran the length of the cabin. The night air had a bracing chill, and he inhaled deeply as he stepped onto the dirt driveway. There was still a load of wood to get out of the back of the truck, but at the moment, he just gazed up at the stars.
This morning, his biggest worry was deciding which of the bedrooms in the cabin to tackle next. This afternoon, it had been reaffirming his vow to stay far away from Gina, knowing he was the wrong guy for her despite how great it felt to have her in his arms again.
And now? Now he might be a father.
A crashing noise had Justin racing back inside. Jacoby stood at the kitchen sink, an overturned wooden crate next to him and a plastic cup on the floor.
“I was thirsty,” he said.
Surprised that the boy had finally spoken, Justin pulled in a deep breath and commanded his heart to stop its wild pounding in his chest. It wasn’t listening.
He grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and plopped down on the overturned crate. “Here.”
The boy didn’t move.
“It’s okay. You can have it.”
“I won’t finish all that.”
Justin unscrewed the lid and offered it again. “No worries. We can put the top back on.”
The boy took the bottle and drank. It was then Justin noticed the photograph clutched in his hand. “What’s that?”
His small fist, and the photo, disappeared behind his back.
“I’m not going to take it. I’m just wondering who’s.” Justin’s voice faded.
Could that image be a clue to finding Zoe? He reached into his T-shirt pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d tucked there, behind Jacoby’s birth certificate. He showed it to the boy. “See this?”
Curiosity had the boy leaning forward. “It’s me.”
Justin’s gut tightened, a reflex against the emotional punches he’d been taking all night. “No, actually that’s me. Back when I was your age.”
Jacoby slowly pulled the picture out and turned it around. “This is you, too.”
Creased down the middle, the fold split the image of a couple sitting arm in arm on a beat-up sofa. They held beers in their hands and goofy smiles on their faces. Him and Zoe. It must’ve been taken the night they met.
And the hits kept coming.
Justin swallowed hard before he spoke. “Did your mom give you that?”
The boy nodded. “She said it’s her and my daddy. She said my daddy had gone away for a long time, but soon I’d go and live with him and he’d take care of me ‘cause she can’t anymore.”
There it was.
The final blow. A solid right hook that sent him to the mat. Thank goodness he was already sitting because he doubted his knees would’ve held him upright.
She’d planned this.
Zoe had come to town purposely to leave her son with him. That meant even if by some strange twist, he wasn’t the kid’s father, he was still left holding the bag. One that was every bit as precious as the one Jacoby dragged along behind him.
Chapter Three
“I don’t know about this. It might not be a good idea.”
Gina looked at Jack. The golden retriever sat on his haunches in the passenger seat, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, panting in anticipation.
“I’ve been overflowing with less-than-stellar ideas lately. Just look at my hair. Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
Jack barked once and she took it as an affirmative.
Her car crawled over the dirt road, the beam from the headlights bouncing off the thick forest of trees. She glanced at the clock. Almost eight. She still