Espresso In The Morning. Dorie Graham

mother swept her arm, indicating the room. “Well, if this is the normal course of your life, you’re going to be single a long time, my son. I don’t have any young available women crowding into my home.” She shrugged. “Though maybe I can arrange something if you insist on hanging out here all the time.”

      Lucas laughed again. “You know I’d put a fast stop to that if I thought you were serious.”

      “So, tell me about the woman,” she said.

      “What woman?” he asked.

      “The one at your shop. The undateable one.”

      “Who says there’s a woman?” he asked.

      She gave him her sternest mom frown.

      He blew out a breath. “There’s this kid. His mother is beautiful, fit, physically healthy. I wouldn’t call her undateable, but I believe she’s...distressed in some way.”

      She stared at him. “Distressed?” she asked. “How so? That’s how you describe a scratched coffee table or dented washing machine. Though I suppose we’re all a little distressed these days.” She again raised the roller toward him. “She’s single?”

      “One question at a time,” he said as he paused to run the edger along the top of the wall. “Yes, she’s single—at least she says it’s just the two of them. She doesn’t wear a ring.”

      “Ah, so you are interested. Go on.”

      He traded the edger for the roller, glancing at his mother as he rolled it in the tray and asked, “What makes you think I’m interested?”

      “You checked for a ring.”

      He bit the inside of his lip. He could say he did that with all attractive women, but his mother knew him too well to buy that. “I didn’t need to check for a ring. She told me it was just the two of them. And if I did, maybe I was looking for the kid’s sake,” he said. “He’s about ten. He should have a man in his life. I just kind of feel for him, you know?”

      “Because she’s distressed and that affects him?”

      “Well, they both seem a little worn-out, really, but her more so. He’s just getting hit with her flack, but it affects him, definitely.”

      “What’s wrong with her? Is she loco?”

      He blew out a breath. “I suspect she’s dealing with a case of PTSD, but I don’t really know. She startles, doesn’t sleep, seems to be hypervigilant. And I saw she was reading articles on it, which doesn’t mean anything, but something’s off. I’m just getting to know her.”

      “PTSD? Like Toby?” she asked, her tone softening.

      He nodded. “Yeah, like Toby.”

      “How long has it been, Lucas? Seems like it just happened yesterday.”

      “Two years ago last Friday,” he said without emotion.

      She nodded and rolled more paint on the wall, saying, “Two years already? I know it’s still hard for you.”

      “Yep.”

      “And I see why you might not want to date this woman.”

      He paused midstroke and said, “You think she reminds me of how I screwed up with Toby?”

      “Did you screw up with Toby?” she asked.

      He swiped the roller down the wall. “Maybe. Yes, definitely, when we were younger.”

      “Helping her won’t bring him back.”

      He turned to her. “I know that.”

      She met his gaze. “Do you?”

      “Yes. I just feel like she could use a friend.”

      “And you think you’d make a good friend for her?” she asked.

      “Yes, especially if she’s suffering from PTSD. I could help her. I studied it pretty in-depth after Toby...”

      “But why do you feel the need to help her?”

      He put the roller back in the tray and spread his arms wide. “Why does it matter? One minute you’re asking me why I don’t have a woman in my life and then when I tell you I’m getting to know one, you question it.”

      “Because I know you,” she said. “I know how you always feel responsible for other people, even at your own expense.”

      He stared at her. “What does that mean?”

      “When you were young, when your father was still with us, and you know how he liked his liquor—”

      “That’s all over and done with. Do we need to rehash it?” He picked up his roller and smashed it in the paint. He hated thinking about his father, how he’d hurt his mother and Lucas hadn’t been able to stop him.

      “The man was an idiot, a cruel idiot, but an idiot—”

      “Can we please not talk about him? What does he have to do with this, anyway?” Lucas asked.

      “Let me finish. You were seven when he left, so young and so angry.”

      “Madre—”

      “Lucas, listen to me. He’d come home stinking drunk and he’d get mad about a toy you’d left out or a mess you’d made, or something he made up in his head and he’d always yell at you while he struck me and then you took care of me afterward, bringing me the first-aid kit and ice. He made you feel like it was your fault. But it wasn’t.”

      Lucas’s throat tightened. He gripped the roller. His father had been a real bastard. It had been a relief when he’d left. “He never deserved you. I don’t know why you married him.”

      “I got you out of the deal, didn’t I?”

      He nodded, but didn’t reply. She thought he felt responsible, but he just felt angry. Even at seven he’d known his father’s actions were wrong. How could any of them be Lucas’s fault?

      “I just want you to think about why you’re befriending this woman, Lucas, that’s all. It can’t just be about her. It has to be about you, as well. You have to get something from the relationship.”

      He swiped at the wall. “I know that. Like I said, I’m just getting to know her. And she did help me today. I locked my keys in my car and she gave me a coat hanger.”

      “Well, good,” she said, “but you know what I mean.”

      “Yes, I know what you mean.”

      They worked in silence for a while. His mother meant well, but she was wrong. Lucas wasn’t trying to save everyone because of some messed-up complex he had over having a sadistic drunk for a father.

      He just wanted to do the right thing.

      “You’re a good man, Lucas,” his mother said.

      He shook his head. It was impossible to ever be annoyed with her. “I try to be.”

      “Well, you wouldn’t be my hijo if you weren’t. I’d disown you,” she said.

      “Yeah?”

      “In a heartbeat.”

      “No, you wouldn’t,” he said, smiling. “I’m your one and only. Besides, you love me.”

      “Yes, that is true and you are very lovable, once you get past your whole I-have-to-save-the-world thing.”

      “I have to save the world?” He regarded her, eyebrows raised.

      “Yes, even though it isn’t your place, because you aren’t responsible.”

      He groaned.

      “Just pointing it out, so you don’t forget.”

      “Yeah,