“That would have sucked,” he said with a laugh. “But Cait, she seems to have been a good kid, so it can’t have bothered her too much. And it hasn’t hurt her popularity any, has it?”
“Maybe in certain circles.” Molly sipped her coffee, which he’d been amused to see she seemed to like with plenty of cream and sugar both. Maybe it said something that he liked it bitter, her sweet.
“But not the circles you’d want her in, anyway.”
“No,” she allowed, then smiled at him. “Have I thanked you for being so nice, and after I wasn’t at first?”
“We didn’t hit it off that first meeting,” Richard conceded. Except he’d felt the first twinges of lust, angry as he was.
“No. Or the first phone call, either.”
He remembered back. Cast-iron bitch. He’d been so sure.
“I wanted you to tell me what to do,” he said. “I didn’t have the slightest idea. I still don’t.”
She listened willingly when he told his fear that it was too late for him to become a full-time parent.
“Did you ever think of, I don’t know, contesting custody, or asking for alternate years, or…?” Molly asked, expression compassionate.
He grimaced. “Yeah. I was okay until Lexa got married and announced they were moving to California. I might have made a stink, except I was in the National Guard and half expecting to get sent to Iraq.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you?”
“Yeah. Year-long tour.” He looked away from her. “Twice.”
He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but her voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh, Richard.”
“There wasn’t any way I could have had the kids.” He kept his gaze fixed on the framed photos and pair of unusual candlesticks atop the fireplace mantel. “I didn’t come home in great shape, either. Especially after the second tour.”
“You were injured?”
“Not on the outside. I was one of the lucky ones.” He spared her a glance but didn’t let himself drown in her sympathy. “It was a year or more before I could sleep through the night after coming home, though.” He shuddered slightly, hoped she hadn’t noticed. “I had flashbacks. I was angry. Jumpy.”
“PTSD.”
“I don’t know. If so, I’d say most returning vets are coming home with it.” He shrugged. “I got better. But God knows I wasn’t in any shape to be a single parent.”
Miraculously, she was the one who scooted a cushion closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
His fingers curled into fists, the only way he could keep himself from touching her. From driving those same fingers into the dark fire of her hair.
“Are you still National Guard?”
He shook his head. “I got out. Barring something that pulls me back.”
“I had no idea.”
“Why would you?” That sounded unfriendly, and he didn’t mean it that way. “We didn’t know each other.” He frowned. “Why didn’t we? West Fork isn’t that big a town.”
“Cait and I have only been here three years. We lived on the east side before I got offered this job. Cait wasn’t thrilled.” A quick, wry grin pulled at her mouth. “She consented to the move once we determined the dance school here was acceptable.”
He found himself looking at her, maybe having some trouble tracking her words. “Molly,” he said, huskily.
Her lips parted. They stared at each other.
And then, goddamn it, came the sound of a door opening upstairs, voices, the clatter of footsteps, and the moment shattered. Cheeks pink, Molly whisked herself back to her end of the sofa and snatched up her coffee cup. Groaning inwardly, Richard drained his coffee and lifted his eyebrows at his son, who had taken the last three steps or so with one leap and thud. Cait had stopped three-quarters of the way down, her hand on the rail.
“You ready to go?”
“Sure,” his son said.
Molly hustled to the closet and handed out their parkas. “Thank you for coming. I enjoyed having you.”
“We enjoyed dinner,” Richard said.
“It was good,” Trevor agreed. He zipped up his parka. “Thank you, Ms. Callahan.”
“You’re very welcome, Trevor.” She smiled impartially at them. Richard thought her eyes were a little shy when they met his. “And Richard.”
He’d have given damn near anything to kiss her good-night. He would already have kissed her, if his son didn’t have such terrible timing. Maybe it was just as well. Trevor needed to come first, and the Callahans, mother and daughter, could do him some serious damage.