Miranda pulled back in shock. What a vile thing for a child to say. She stared, unable to believe something so horrid was being said to her young son by another child, which only meant that the other kid had heard it from an adult. “So you punched Garrett for saying that stuff?” she asked. Talen nodded sullenly. Miranda was mad as hell but she managed a smile for her son. “Well, I guess Garrett should be careful about when and where he runs his mouth. I’d say you taught him a valuable life lesson.”
“You mean I’m not in trouble?”
“All right, I’m going to say this once, so pay attention, little man. I would never get mad at you for defending someone you love in a righteous battle. However, that’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card for every altercation because violence isn’t the answer in most cases. It takes a smarter man to use his words rather than his fists to get his point across. Understand?”
“I think so.” Talen paused, then asked, “Was my daddy a bad man?”
What a loaded question. She cringed inside, wishing she didn’t have to talk about Johnny at all, but her son deserved honesty for defending her honor in the only way his eight-year-old heart knew to do—by punching the lights out of a classmate. “Your dad was...troubled. He died in prison because he was serving time for drugs when another inmate attacked him with a homemade weapon. He did not have a disease of any sort. He got caught up with the wrong crowd and made some really bad choices. That’s all, buddy.” She reached across the table and grasped her son’s hands in her own. “Listen, however troubled your dad was, that has nothing to do with who you are as a person. You are good and kind and sweet and I’m proud to call you my son. Okay?”
Talen broke into a shy grin and her heart contracted with pure love for the boy. “Thanks, Mama.”
“Anytime.” She smiled and allowed him to pull his hands free because their food arrived, but as they enjoyed their lunch, Miranda’s enjoyment at spending time with her son was dampened by a small voice at the back of her head that worried her past actions were finally catching up to her, but not in the way she’d expected. She could defend herself without caring how others felt about her, but she couldn’t fathom her son bearing the brunt of others’ censure because of something she’d done.
In the past she’d slept with a lot of people and hadn’t thought how her actions might affect her loved ones because she’d figured it was her business and no one else’s.
It killed her to think that Talen had had to defend her against such a nasty rumor. What else were people saying about her? Trace’s last admonishment came back to her as she slowly chewed her French fry. People were certainly talking about her. She’d never cared before, but now the knowledge gave her a hard pinch. If she were of a mind to change public perception, how would she even begin?
She supposed she could start by settling down.
Otter came to mind, and even as she felt zero interest in him sexually, she knew he was a decent man with a solid reputation around town as a good guy. He’d make a great father. But how fair was that to Otter that she would consider settling for a passionless relationship in exchange for stability and a veneer of respectability?
She hated herself for even considering such a thing but she’d do anything to protect her son—even if it meant reinventing herself in the eyes of an entire town.
* * *
JENNELLE WATCHED FROM the window as Zed traversed the yard, heading back to his shop, where he’d taken up permanent residence. She swallowed a sudden wash of bitter tears at the unfairness of it all and allowed the drape to fall softly back into place. My, how things had changed. She remembered a time when Zed couldn’t take his eyes from her, followed her like a puppy and gave her gifts of freshly picked wildflowers that were the same wild blue of her eyes.
She squeezed her eyes shut and plucked an old memory free from her locked box.
“I could teach you how to shoot a gun,” Zed offered, his boyish charm melting her heart even as she prepared to play coy. He was eighteen and everything she’d ever imagined wanting in a boy, but her girlfriend Stella told her she should never let a boy know right away that she liked him. And oh, goodness, gracious me, she liked him.
“And why would I need to know how to shoot a gun?” she asked, seemingly disinterested, but she flashed him a flirty look from beneath her lashes as she leaned against the base of a large tree. Everywhere around her was blooming with life after the harsh Alaskan winter had lost its grip and allowed summer to thaw the earth. It was nearly warm enough for shorts. Nearly.