Daddy Wanted. Renee Andrews

      Drawn to the teenager, he wanted to comfort him somehow, but Dylan was still pressed against the rock, his blue eyes darting from one patch of woods to another as though contemplating his getaway path.

       God, let him trust me. And let me help him deal with the pain. Give me the right words.

      Brodie cleared his throat. “I told Savvy that I’d try to find you. She’s worried about you. I’m sure she’s expecting me to bring you home. Do you think you can trust me to do that?”

      “Why should I?” Dylan glared at him, and Brodie suspected he wasn’t the first adult on the receiving end of that defiance. The kid looked as though he’d be right at home getting into trouble at school. Actually, he reminded Brodie of himself in that way. He had always itched for a confrontation with his teachers, his parents, pretty much anyone.

      Dylan looked back to Brodie, and the wall that had surrounded him a moment ago slipped a bit. “Aunt Savvy is worried?”

      Aunt Savvy. Brodie was touched that she had such a position in Willow’s children’s lives that they considered her an aunt. If he hadn’t messed things up with Willow, he might have been Uncle Brodie. “Yeah.”

      Then Dylan’s eyes widened, his attention captured by the embroidered emblem on Brodie’s chest. “You’re a coach? At the college?”

      Finally, something that would break the ice with this kid. Same thing that had captured Kaden’s interest earlier. “Yeah. The baseball coach. It’s my first season there, but we’re having a pretty good year. You play?”

      Dylan shook his head. “I wanted to go out for the school team this year, but—” he shrugged “—I didn’t.”

      Brodie waited to see if he’d say more, and his patience paid off.

      “They cut a lot of kids,” Dylan said.

      Brodie understood the fear of not making the team. At thirteen, Dylan would try out for junior high, the first stage of athletics where the “everyone gets a trophy” approach flew out the window. He remembered it well. “Practice and determination, that’s what’ll get you on the team.”

      “Who would I practice with?” he asked, then flinched as though he wanted to take the words back. Probably hadn’t planned on sharing that insight with a stranger.

      “How about me?” Brodie wanted to help the boy deal with his loss, and if there was anything he knew, well, it was baseball. Plus, Willow’s letter had insinuated that Brodie could help her son with tutoring. Maybe baseball would open that door, too. Something the boy wanted to do combined with something he needed to do.

      “Why would you do that?” Dylan asked, clearly not used to adults offering to help him out.

      Because I owe your mom. Because you remind me of myself. Because I need to right old wrongs to prove I deserve a spot in my daughter’s life. “Because I love baseball,” he replied.

      “That’d be—” Dylan’s jaw clenched as he apparently fought off a smile “—cool.” Then his stomach growled loud enough to be heard over the wind. “I’m getting hungry.” He held his hand out from the ledge. “The rain’s slacking. Probably should go back.”

      So a promise of baseball practice and a hungry stomach caused him to think straight. Worked for Brodie. “Let’s go.”

      Twenty minutes later, they exited the woods near the trailer with Brodie impressed at the boy’s sense of direction. He’d led the way back and hadn’t panicked when the rain picked up a couple of times or when he’d slipped on wet patches of leaves and pine straw. In fact, Dylan seemed very agile and easily adapted to his surroundings. Brodie suspected he’d probably be a decent baseball player.

      He held the flashlight and shot the beam ahead of them as they moved toward the trailer, where every floodlight gleamed and apparently every light inside also illuminated in anticipation of their arrival. They were still ten feet away when the door to the trailer opened and Savvy came out. Her relieved gasp reverberated as she darted into the rain. She threw her arms around Dylan in a tight bear hug that caused the boy to wince.

      “Hey, Aunt Savvy, that’s good,” he said. “I’m okay.”

      “Thank God,” she whispered, heavy tears falling freely.

      The twins timidly stepped through the open doorway, but remained under the pitiful metal awning to stay out of the rain. They were identical, with fine blond hair surrounding cherubic faces, matching pink nightgowns and bare feet. “Dylan? You okay?” one asked.

      He pushed away from Savvy and turned toward the girls. “I’m okay, Rose.” Then he looked back at Savvy. “Sorry I was gone so long. Got caught in the rain.”

      She blinked, opened her mouth as though she wasn’t certain how to answer, then responded, “That’s okay, I guess.”

      He turned to Brodie and said, “You meant it about the baseball?”

      “I did.”

      Dylan nodded, and this time released that hint of a grin. “Okay, then.” He jogged up the steps to the door and took the girls inside.

      Savvy waited for the door to snap closed and then turned to Brodie. “What about baseball?” Her brow knitted, and she didn’t make any effort to move toward the trailer, in spite of the fact that the rain still fell, and her T-shirt and jeans grew wetter by the minute.

      “Don’t you want to go inside and talk?” he asked.

      “No.” She shook her head, the ends of her hair converting from pale blond to caramel in the rain and then curling beneath her chin.

      For some bizarre reason, Brodie wanted to touch the dampened hair, push it away from her face and see those dark eyes, try to find the pupils hidden within the irises.

      “What did Dylan mean about baseball?” she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

      The rain picked up steam again, and he motioned toward the wooden deck that bordered the right half of the trailer. “I’ll tell you, but let’s at least get under the awning, if you won’t let me come inside. You’re getting drenched.”

      She glanced down, apparently realizing that her clothes were, in fact, soaked. “Okay, fine,” she said. “But then you have to go.” She started up the steps, then held up a palm. “Wait here.” Then she went inside and left Brodie under the flat awning, which he now realized had a large hole in one side, where the rainwater streamed through.

      She returned a moment later wearing a large camouflage jacket, probably Dylan’s, over her shirt. When she opened the door, he heard the kids talking, and he tilted his head toward the sound. She pushed the door closed.

      “Okay, tell me. What about baseball?”

      “He wants to get better at baseball, and I offered to help.”

      A clap of thunder caused her to jump, and a yelp escaped that didn’t go unnoticed by the kids, because the door opened and Dylan stuck his head out.

      “Aunt Savvy, you okay?”

      “Yes, Dylan, I’m fine,” she said, but her voice quivered. “I made pancakes. There are some in the microwave for you.”

      Dylan’s brow furrowed at Brodie, but then he looked to Savvy, who managed a smile in spite of the fact that Brodie knew she was terrified of this storm. In any case, the kid seemed appeased. “Okay. I’m going to eat. But let me know if you need me.” He started inside, but then stopped and slid off Brodie’s baseball jacket. “Thanks for letting me wear this.”

      “You’re welcome.” He took the coat and once again, found himself impressed. Barely a teenager, the boy was still ready to protect the women of his house.

      When the door closed and the volume on the television promptly increased, Savvy gave him a pointed look. “I said you could