“Ready to go?” Shane asked, trying to put Bex’s comment to the back of his mind—and failing. Was she suggesting that Faith was interested in him? Because that was crazy talk.
“Yeah.” Dylan shouldered his backpack and made for the door.
“He’s been in a mood all afternoon,” Bex murmured. “No idea why.”
“Sorry about that.”
She waved a hand. “No problem.”
Shane waited for Hunter to gather his things, and they followed Dylan out of the apartment. “That was rude,” Shane told him. “You didn’t say goodbye to Bex or thank her for having you over.”
Dylan shrugged, his expression sullen. “She knows I meant to.”
“How’s she supposed to know that if you don’t say the words?”
He didn’t respond. Shane unlocked the car and climbed in. He didn’t know what was going on with his son lately. He was getting perilously close to being a teenager, and sometimes Shane wished he came with an instruction manual. They drove home with Hunter filling the silence with chatter about the painting he’d done at kindergarten. Shane parked outside their villa, grabbed his work gear from the back seat, and walked inside with Hunter. By the time they reached the door, Dylan had let himself in with the spare key and was shutting himself in his bedroom. Shane hovered outside, palm on the door, wondering if he should knock and find out what was wrong. Or was this the time to give Dylan space? Who the hell knew?
With a sigh, he opted to leave the kid alone for a while. He changed out of his work clothes, put the TV on for Hunter, placed a casserole in the oven to reheat, and fixed the boys and himself packed lunches for tomorrow. While dinner cooked, he did a few chores around the house, and when it was ready, he dished up three servings, handed one to Hunter and went to let Dylan know it was time to eat. As he approached the bedroom door, he heard voices and paused. Then, glancing around to make sure Hunter hadn’t followed him, he set his ear to the wood.
"...just for a bit?”
Dylan was on the phone. But with whom?
“I know it’s late, Mum. Can I just have two minutes?”
Ugh. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door. Diana.
Trust her to find a way to mess with her son’s head from the other side of the world. No wonder he was in a difficult mood. Shane dithered over whether to interrupt, but he didn’t want to put Dylan on the defensive. His son knew Shane didn’t like it when he spoke to his mother, although he’d never come straight out and say it. She may be a manipulative, self-centered diva, but she was still a parent. Retreating to the dining table, he sent Dylan a text, knowing he’d get it immediately. Thirty seconds later, Dylan joined them, eyes ringed with red. Shane pretended not to notice because acting concerned would only serve to alienate him.
Dinner passed without incident, but he couldn’t get that phone call, or Dylan’s behavior, out of his head. Hours later, he lay in bed, mulling it over, wishing he had someone to talk to. He considered calling Bex, but she had enough problems of her own.
What about Faith?
Once the possibility occurred to him, he couldn’t shake it.
He shouldn’t. But damn, he wanted to. She didn’t have kids, so she couldn’t relate, but she was so good with his, and he wanted the closeness he’d experienced during their previous late-night conversation. He reached for his phone and sent her a text.
Shane: Are you awake?
A moment later, he received a reply.
Faith: Sure am, sugar. What’s up?
Without pausing to give himself time to think, he dialed her number.
“Hi,” she said, voice warm and husky, giving him the impression she was snuggled beneath the blankets, same as him.
He petted Tinkerbell’s head, enjoying the way she purred, then replied, “I hope it’s okay to call.”
“Of course it is. Was there something you need to talk about?”
Now that he had her, he hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “It’s about Dylan.”
“Dylan?”
Was it just him, or did she suddenly sound wary? “I’m worried about him.”
“Oh.” She seemed to relax. “Why’s that?”