Brody didn’t disagree. His parents were practical, hardworking people. Things like bedtime stories and playing pretend didn’t always fit into their schedules—or their way of thinking. He understood that now. His father taught him to hunt and fish, how to fix a tractor engine, everything there was to know about taking care of your horse, things that would serve him well if he was ever stranded far from civilization. Dragons and fairies, mermaids and dinosaurs weren’t included.
“You need anything else?” he asked, heading toward his truck. “Let Mom know I’m heading into town. She’ll text me.”
He enjoyed the twenty-five minutes of quiet into town—not even bothering to turn on the radio. He loved his girls and was thankful for his parents. But people needed time alone with their thoughts. Especially after a day like today.
His thoughts wandered to the girls’ birthday, the campaign and festival, and then the holidays not too far after. What would the holidays look like? Would Barbara want the girls, or would she come to Fort Kyle so they could be together? Whatever it was, they’d make it work.
Cal sprang to mind then.
What sort of man abandoned his son? Three years. He couldn’t imagine going three days without his girls.
He drove down Main Street and parked behind the grocery store. He unlocked the crank on the ladder bolted to the building and extended it fully before carrying his flashlight to the top. A quick search showed a soft patch in the corner, made worse by the slight incline in the flat roof. The water had pooled there instead of running off via the drains. He sighed, ran his hand over his face and shook his head.
His father was going to have to spend some money on this. Which meant Brody would have to smooth ruffled feathers.
He stood, staring down on Main Street. It was getting dark. The old-fashioned streetlights came on, casting the wood and brick storefronts in welcoming halos. The faint strands of music from the Soda Shop jukebox spilled into the night. His home was a pretty little town—even prettier in the fading sunlight.
He took a few pictures of the roof with his cell phone and climbed back down the ladder.
He unlocked the back door of the grocery store and went looking for Willie. Once he’d filled the man in on his discovery, and made sure the area was marked off, he headed across the street for a cup of black coffee.
But seeing India sitting at the desk inside the antiques shop, her sloppy bun stuck through with a handful of pencils, changed his mind.
He took a deep breath and tested the front door. It was unlocked. “India?” he said.
Her head jerked up, sending two pencils flying. She reached up, tugging the rest out and rubbing the back of her head.
“Studying?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Which was a lie. If he hadn’t wanted to interrupt her, why the hell had he walked into the shop?
“No more camera crew?” she asked, tapping her book with her pencil.
“They left a couple hours back.” He leaned against the counter and watched her reaction. “Not a fan of television?”
She had shadows beneath her eyes. “Not a fan of stirring up a hornet’s nest. Rather not draw unwanted attention.”
“Your dad?”
Her eyes met his. “And Cal’s father. I like that he’s gone. I’d like to keep it that way.” She stood, agitated.
“Is Cal here?” he asked.
She seemed to be considering her answer. “Spending the night with Click and Tandy. We wanted to cheer Cal up, try to keep him from worrying over Tanner. Now he’s all fired up about riding and horses.” She shot him a look.
“I’m glad he’s excited. He should be.” He wasn’t going to apologize for it.
She sighed. “We’ll see.”
Brody tipped his hat back on his head. “What happened? With your ex?”
She shook her head. “I’m not in the mood to talk about JT. The only thing good that came out of my marriage was Cal. And the realization that the only person I can really count on is myself.”
“What about your family?” he argued.
“You know it’s never been easy between me and my father. Marrying JT was the last straw. Dad never liked him. He was right not to. Now he barely speaks to me. I’