Coming Home To You. Fay Robinson

she asked.

      “I can’t.”

      “But single men can adopt. These days it’s done all the time.”

      “I know, but it’s not an option for me.” He stood abruptly, wishing he’d never allowed her to pursue this. He walked toward the tree where they’d tied the horses. She ran to catch up with him.

      “Hey, wait! I don’t understand. Why isn’t it an option for you? Anyone with eyes can see you love that little boy and he loves you. He hangs on every word you say.”

      “I can’t adopt him. Drop the subject.” They had reached the horses and he snatched down the reins, which had been looped over a branch. He put his foot in the stirrup and started to mount, but she touched his arm.

      “But if you love—”

      He whirled and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I said I can’t,” he yelled, making both her and the horse jump. “Why won’t you listen to me, Morgan? I can’t adopt him. I can never adopt him. I’m no better than his mother.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      His face contorted with the pain he felt in his heart. “Because,” he said in anguish, “I killed my own brother.”