A Family for Tyler. Angel Smits

right.

      The protective instinct that was so ingrained in Wyatt surged to the surface. “She shows up here and she’ll have one hell of a fight on her hands.” He spoke the words loud and strong, ignoring the doubt they covered.

      He could fight her, legally, but what would that do to Tyler? What would DJ do? He’d obviously felt something for the woman at some point. What would he feel once he learned she’d kept his son a secret for eight years?

      With a curse, Wyatt rose to his feet and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

      He shoved the screen door open, letting it slap shut behind him. The night engulfed him within only a few feet, but he didn’t have to see where he was going. He knew the path to the barn well.

      His eyes easily adjusted, and he soon could make out the forms of the barn, the stable, the corral, the garage. Movement caught his eye and a sense of relief washed over him. His feet made their own way to the corral fence. Prism waited for him. The beautiful white horse shook its big shaggy head, greeting Wyatt as it always did. A friend saying hello.

      “I should’ve brought you a treat, huh, boy?” Wyatt whispered and rubbed the smooth brow. Long minutes passed. The horse’s breathing, the distant croaks of the frogs down at the pond, the faint whisper of something—probably a rabbit in the grasses—soothed him. He closed his eyes and took it all in, letting home comfort him.

      Addie’s question haunted him. What if Tyler’s mom did come back? What would he do?

      “You up for a ride, boy?” He patted Prism’s neck and the horse seemed to nod his agreement. “Come on.” Wyatt opened the gate and just as he had dozens of times before, he climbed up on the horse’s bare back, hanging on to the thick mane. “Let’s go.”

      This was no orderly canter; they both knew this. Prism knew him. Prism understood. And Prism ran. As if the troubles of the world were on his tail. Just as Wyatt wanted and needed.

      * * *

      FROM HIS PERCH on the dresser by the windowsill, where he’d climbed after Aunt Addie and Uncle Wyatt had gone to the kitchen, Tyler stared out across the yard at the starry sky. He’d waited until they’d walked down the hall to open his eyes. Playing possum, as Mama called it, had let him learn lots of things grown-ups didn’t tell him.

      He could still hear Uncle Wyatt talking. Aunt Addie seemed nice enough, but her questions worried him. Especially the ones about Mama.

      Tyler liked Wyatt. Liked him a lot. For an instant, his view wavered, and he rubbed the heel of his hand against his right eye, then his left.

      He refused to cry. Big boys didn’t cry, Mama had always said. Then she would describe how Tyler’s dad was big and tough and strong. He was a soldier, and Tyler didn’t think soldiers ever cried.

      Was his dad like Wyatt? Tyler wondered. They were brothers. Tyler wondered what it would be like to have a brother. He thought he might like it. Sisters, he wasn’t so sure about. Sometimes, he thought, he’d just like to have someone around when he was lonely.

      He hadn’t felt lonely since Uncle Wyatt had come and gotten him, though. But the lady judge scared him. He didn’t want to be alone again. He’d tried really hard to make her understand that he wanted to stay with Uncle Wyatt, that he wanted to get to know his dad when he got home. And that Mama wasn’t bad; she just had stuff to take care of.

      That word, abandoned, didn’t sound good. Uncle Wyatt’s frown had told Tyler he agreed with the lady judge. But Mama hadn’t left him forever. No, his heart cried. She’d be back. He knew she’d come back. She’d promised him.

      But would she even know where he was? Panic made him hiccup and his eyes watered again. Aunt Addie had asked Uncle Wyatt about Mama’s letter and he’d said it had been delivered someplace else. Was that where Mama would go to get him? But he wasn’t there—what if she couldn’t find him?

      Tyler scrambled off the ledge and reached for his jeans. In the right front pocket he pulled out the one thing he hadn’t shown anyone.

      Mama had called it a locket. She had shown him how to open it, but he couldn’t remember how she’d done it. Instead, he curled his small fist around the locket and its chain before stuffing it back into his pocket.

      When she’d given it to him, she’d promised she’d come back for it and for him as soon as she could.

      He believed her.

      He had to.

      She was Mama.

      His eyes burned and he curled his arms around his knees and rested his face on the patches of his jeans.

      She’d be back.

      She would.

      Wouldn’t she?

      CHAPTER FIVE

      “I DIDN’T GO to kin-de-garden.” Tyler answered Wyatt’s question without turning from the video game on the television screen.

      Exasperated, Wyatt sat at the kitchen table, trying to fill out the school paperwork. Since Tyler wasn’t his kid, and without any records to guide him, the forms weren’t easy. Luckily, Tyler’s mother had managed to pack his shot records or they’d be in a whole different mess.

      “What do you mean you didn’t go to kindergarten? I thought you had to?” Why was he asking an eight-year-old about this? He hadn’t a clue. Too much time in said eight-year-old’s company, he guessed.

      “That’s rule stuff. Maybe you could ask that lady judge ’bout it.”

      “I don’t think so.” Lady judge. An image of Emily Ivers flashed through Wyatt’s mind. Those long black robes and that tiny pink collar peeking out...

      “I went to Walt Whitman Elementary for part of first grade then some other place till the end of the year.” Three more monsters disintegrated before Tyler spoke again. “Second grade was some place named after a tree. I was supposed to start at Wilson something for third—”

      “Slow down.” Wyatt scribbled as the boy once again listed off the schools, then looked over at him. “How many times have you moved?”

      “Lots.” Tyler focused on the screen, zapping more monsters with two swift finger blasts.

      None of those school names rang a bell with Wyatt. “All in Texas?”

      “Nope. Florida and Louisiana.” The monsters fought back and Tyler didn’t say anything else.

      Wyatt leaned back in Dad’s captain’s chair and wished it were the man instead of a piece of wood. Dad’s death when Wyatt was fifteen had made him grow up damned fast. Since that time, though, Wyatt had called on a lot of his dad’s lessons and wisdom—at least what he’d managed to absorb in those short fifteen years. But nothing seemed to fit this situation.

      He’d give anything to have his dad’s input now.

      “Okay, buddy. Let’s get moving. I’ll drive you to school today since I have to turn in these papers.”

      Tyler shut down the game, meticulously saving his play then grabbed his backpack. He struggled under the weight for an instant.

      “What’ve you got in there?”

      “Stuff.” Tyler glared up at him and Wyatt backed off.

      He’d approach that issue later. Tyler still didn’t trust him completely. One step at a time. He heard his father’s memory and smiled.

      Yep, one step at a time.

      * * *

      EMILY SHOULD HAVE known. Drew lied. Again. Last night he’d told Dianne that he’d stay until she got there. It took her longer than the fifteen minutes she’d said—it had taken her seventeen, thanks to one obstinate stoplight—and he’d been gone when she got to the