Zach sighed. After that he didn’t know what, but he’d make damn sure this young boy was safe from whatever he was hiding from.
Chapter Seventeen
After leading the dogs out to go to the bathroom, Zach had another pressing matter to deal with.
Easing the spare bedroom door open, he checked on Brock, pleased to see the young boy making use of the antique queen mission-style bed that had once belonged to Chelsea. It was nearly seven o’clock in the morning, and Brock was completely out of it—on top of the covers with his ratty tennis shoes still on.
Zach gently closed the door and headed down the hall. At least Brock had fallen asleep, even if he couldn’t fully relax and trust his surroundings. No child should have to worry about where they were sleeping or if they were safe. Zach had been awake most of the night, making sure Brock didn’t try to run again. Worry kept Zach fully aware of how delicate this situation was.
Today Zach was getting some answers. First, he needed to know if anyone was missing Brock. No dancing around the topic. Zach wasn’t going to get in trouble with the law for having Brock stay here. On the other hand, Zach also wasn’t turning Brock out into the world until he knew exactly where he was going and if he’d be safe.
Time for some breakfast. Zach wasn’t the greatest at cooking. Okay, fine, he was flat-out awful other than the spaghetti he’d made for Sophie.
Sophie. Should he call her? Was this a day she taught water aerobics or not? He honestly should learn more about her life.
Intimacy aside, he wanted her to be a friend if nothing else, and as a friend, she needed to know he cared.
He led the dogs into the utility room, refilled their water bowls, and fed them before heading to the kitchen. Pulling his phone from the charger, he sent Sophie a quick text.
Busy this morning?
While he waited for a reply, he scrounged around in his cabinets to see what he could come up with. The bread seemed to be all white, nothing questionable growing on it. Now if his milk wasn’t chewy and he had eggs that didn’t smell, maybe French toast would be an option.
His cell vibrated on the counter.
Just got out of the shower and getting ready for work. Why?
Did she have to add the bit about the shower? Was she trying to torment him? Knowing the new, sassier Sophie . . . yes.
I’ll give you 50 bucks if you swing by my place asap.
Okay, bribing was taking it a bit far, but he was desperate. He really didn’t want to give Brock a piece of toast and a glass of water. The boy deserved more. Last night he’d insisted he wasn’t hungry, and Zach wasn’t fighting with him any more than he had to. Brock had come to his house, so Zach needed to take that victory.
He kept his eyes on the screen of his phone and smiled when she replied.
Be right there.
Relief slid through him. Sophie didn’t even ask why he needed her, and she was heading over. Maybe he should warn her or at least give her a heads-up.
If you have eggs and milk or any other breakfast item, bring it.
One of the pups scratched at the gate Zach had put in place. “No,” he told the pup, glancing across the kitchen into the utility room. “You stay in there for now. You’ve been out and you have food. I need to work on breakfast for someone else.”
Damn it. He was having a full-on conversation with the dog. One-sided talks were not normal.
The dog yipped as if talking back.
“Nope. I’m not giving in. You need to listen.”
Zach rolled his eyes and pushed off the island. He was losing his mind. For a man who thrived on being alone, he now had eight dogs, and a teenage boy he’d known all of twelve hours, staying in his home.
Jerking open his fridge, he surveyed the meager contents. Seriously, he was due at the store about five years ago. Problem with buying food was you had to prepare it, so that was a waste of money. It was much easier for a single person to grab something on the way home.
When the dog continued to scratch and bark, Zach moved the gate. “Fine. But don’t think you’re always getting your way,” he scolded as the pup strutted by. “You’re only getting out because I don’t want you waking our guest.”
“Do you normally talk to the dogs like people?”
Zach spun around to see Brock in the doorway, his hair stuck up on one side . . . apparently the only side he’d slept on.