“Not always,” Zach replied, propping the gate against the wall. “Only when I’ve lost my mind.”
A corner of Brock’s mouth tipped up, but he quickly killed the look with a scowl. “I’m going to head out now. Than
ks for letting me crash.”
Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “Sit down. Reinforcement is coming to help with breakfast.”
Brock glanced around the kitchen, probably contemplating whether he should stay or go. Zach waited. He didn’t want Brock to feel like he was a prisoner. This was a fine line they were both treading, because Zach didn’t trust this boy. Yes, he felt a tug of familiarity and there was no denying the sympathy he felt toward Brock, but Zach knew he had to stay a step ahead of this kid.
Finally Brock crossed the room, reached down to pat one of the pups, and let it nip on his hand before he pulled out a stool at the center island. Zach stared back at the questioning eyes. Before Sophie arrived, he wanted to get some answers.
“What’s your last name?” Zach asked, bracing his palms on the other side of the island. When Brock merely stared, Zach sighed. “I’m going to get the answers. I know you don’t trust me, but you slept here all night with no problem.”
“Taylor.” Brock shifted in his seat, his eyes darting down to the dog, pouncing around the floor. “My last name is Taylor.”
Great. A start, as long as he was telling the truth.
“And who do you normally live with when you’re not hiding in Civil War–era basements?”
Brock let out a soft laugh, and Zach couldn’t help but smile himself at the brief action from such a sad-looking kid.
“My mother.”
Zach snapped his fingers at the pups when two more came from the utility room and were fighting a bit too rough. They jerked around and darted across the room. Great. Now they’d want to play. He should’ve let them continue to bite each other.
They nipped at his toes, and Zach reached down to scoop them up, one in each arm. “Is your mother worried because you’re not home?”
One pup took a bite at Zach’s ear. “Damn it,” he grumbled before placing that bloodsucker back on the tile. Little bundles of fur were still too damn cute for him to get angry with, but those little teeth were sharp.
“If she notices I’m gone, then she’s probably relieved.”
Zach swallowed the lump of hurt. He’d definitely been that kid. Too many kids knew this type of pain and emptiness. It was all too easy for others to look away, because oftentimes the truth was ugly and uncomfortable. And the truth was, Brock was alone, scared, and desperately in need of love and the proper affection.
“What do you know about the fire at the other house?” Zach held the boy’s gaze, refusing to back down. Arson was a serious offense and he needed to know just how deep this kid was into illegal activity. He hoped Brock was innocent; he hoped he was just trying to get away and start a better life.
“I didn’t mean to,” he muttered beneath his breath as his eyes shifted to the patterned granite beneath his fisted hands. “I was trying to help you.”
Confused, Zach drew his brows in. “Help how?”
“I took electrical classes at my vocational school.” He traced a finger over the dark pattern as he spoke. “I really liked learning about it, and I was at the top of my class this semester, but I have another year and I’m not sure I’ll go back.”
So much to take in from that statement. Zach started to reply when his doorbell rang. Brock jumped up from the stool, eyes wide, his feet braced.
“Relax,” Zach said, putting the wiggling pup down to scamper to the front door with the others. “It’s a friend of mine. You’re safe here.”
Brock didn’t look any more relaxed, but he gave a brief nod.
Zach danced around pouncing pups as he made his way to the door. As soon as he flicked the lock and turned the knob, Sophie was pushing through.
“Okay, what’s the emergency and why am I giving up my turkey bacon?”
Zach smiled as she whizzed by him and stopped short. Just as he closed the door he glanced over his shoulder and spotted Brock in the wide opening between the foyer and kitchen. The dogs were nipping at Brock’s worn shoes and biting on the hem of his jeans.
“Come on,” he said, clapping his hands at the puppies. “Don’t bite his pants.”
“You called a woman to cook you breakfast?” Brock asked, glancing back and forth between Zach and Sophie.
“No.” Zach took the sacks from Sophie. “I called Sophie because she’s a friend, and if you want real food, you’ll be glad she’s here. Otherwise I can pour you a glass of chewy milk.”