Every Waking Moment(52)
Author: Brenda Novak

But she didn’t want to get involved with another man. She was going to establish her freedom, live in a little house, teach school and take care of Max—and never have to answer to anyone again.

Her heart raced at the memory of Max dashing across the pavement toward Manuel’s Hummer at the Gas-N-Go. If Preston hadn’t shown up when he did…

Why had he come back for them? She still hadn’t asked. And his behavior provided no clues. He hadn’t indicated that he expected anything in return for his help. So far, he hadn’t even accepted money for food or gas.

Did he still want what she’d offered him at the pool? At times she saw him looking at her and thought so. But he was sending conflicting signals. He’d just had the opportunity to make an advance, yet he’d walked away. Again.

She wondered if he knew that his reluctance to press her made her want him. It was a subtlety she and most other women could easily appreciate—and one Manuel would never understand.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LATER THAT MORNING, a small hand tapped Preston’s bare arm, making his heart feel light. He was in the bedroom of his home in Half Moon Bay, with Christy sleeping beside him, and Dallas standing by the edge of his bed—everything as it should be.

Blindly, he scooped his son into bed with him, as he had so many times before, and smiled contentedly when Dallas’s arms closed around his neck.

“Hi, Preston.”

Preston? He dragged his eyes open, and reality intruded with all the finesse of a sledgehammer.

Immediately he let go and slid to the other side of the bed, where he buried his head in the blankets. It wasn’t Max’s fault that he wasn’t Dallas. Max had responded sweetly, innocently, to Preston’s brief show of affection. But the disappointment tasted too bitter for Preston to swallow all at once. He wanted to push Max out of his bed, his life. He wanted to forget—

“Preston?” Max said.

Preston gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the emotions that had welled up, seemingly out of nowhere. Don’t move any closer to me. “What?”

“Where’s my mom?”

“Watching TV.”

“No, she’s not.”

Max’s response made Preston forget his inner battle long enough to prop himself up on one elbow. He listened but couldn’t hear the TV. He couldn’t see Emma anywhere in the room, either. Or the bathroom.

His pulse sped up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Had she left? Had Manuel found her?

Hell! Preston bolted out of bed, but just as he reached the living room, Emma came in, carrying a bag of groceries.

Her eyes went wide when she saw him. Then her gaze slid down his body, and he realized that he was standing there in his boxer briefs.

“You’re up.” The tinge of pink that stained her cheeks told him she’d noticed his state of undress, but he didn’t care if it made her uncomfortable. He would’ve been more discreet if she hadn’t scared the life out of him.

He drew a deep breath. “Where’d you go?”

“There’s a little grocery store down the street.”

Scratching his bare chest, he scowled. “You frightened Max.”

“Max?” she said, arching one eyebrow.

Preston felt his scowl darken at her knowing tone, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything before Max came bounding toward her from behind him.

“Mommy!”

Preston took the groceries in time for Emma to catch her son’s running leap.

“I expected to get back before either of you woke up,” she said. “The store’s literally two minutes away.”

“It’d be two minutes too long if something went wrong,” Preston grumbled, and headed back to the bedroom. The stock market opened at six o’clock. He was running late today, but he stubbornly decided to do what he could.

He booted up his computer but he couldn’t concentrate. Emma and Max’s voices filtered back to him. They were talking about aardvarks, for whatever reason, and Preston found himself straining to hear. Apparently aardvarks were nocturnal animals that lived in Africa and were good diggers. They burrowed into nests of termites or ants, then shoved their sticky tongues inside to eat the insects.

How long had it been since he’d thought about an aardvark? Or a triceratops? Or any of the other things a child typically loved? The simple curiosities that had nothing to do with anger and revenge and isolation?

He stared at his amber cursor. As much as Max reminded him of the past and the pain, there were moments Preston found his childish voice comforting.

“Preston!” Emma called. “Breakfast is ready.”

Preston told himself he should stay away from them and continue working. There was something about Emma and Max that threatened to break through all the layers of bitterness that had insulated him for two years. He found that almost as frightening as it was appealing. But the smell of eggs and bacon and homemade biscuits tipped the scale.

Getting up from the desk, he strode reluctantly into the kitchen, as if Emma’s invitation hadn’t just given him the very opportunity he’d been looking for.

“Hungry?” she said when she saw him.

He nodded, and she dished him up a plate. He carried it to the table while she recovered a small black bag from her purse.

Preston had seen her use this bag before, but only in a peripheral way while he was going off to the restroom or pumping gas. This was the first time he was actually close enough to examine its contents.

Picking up his fork, he pretended to concentrate on his breakfast, but couldn’t help watching Emma and Max. Especially when she drew insulin out of three different bottles and handed her son a filled syringe.

Max had to inject himself? At five years old?

“Can I do it in my stomach?” Max asked.

Emma frowned. “We decided not to do it there anymore, remember?”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Preston didn’t. He wished she’d explain, but he was too busy faking preoccupation to ask.

“So? It’ll be okay,” Max said.

“It’s not okay. The doctor told us we have to rotate the site, and we decided it was best to listen, right?”

Preston saw some cottage-cheese-like deposits on Max’s stomach and thought he could probably guess why it was important to switch sites. Max had already done enough damage there.

“What about your leg?” Emma asked.

Max shook his head.

“I could put it in your bottom,” she suggested.