The Family He Didn't Expect

Abby couldn’t have been more surprised if Dylan had stood up and started singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” She never would have imagined—given his appearance—that he would be so smart and intuitive with how he handled these kids. There was color in Cody’s cheeks, interest in his eyes—

Two things Abby hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Abby clutched the paper cup so hard it crumpled, praying her son would open up, stop shutting himself off from the world.

“Whatever, dude,” Cody said finally, then got to his feet, flipping the hoodie back over his head as he rose. “I’m not here to have a Dr. Phil moment with some guy I don’t even know. I’m just trying to survive.”

Then he headed out the door, snagging a basketball from the bin as he went. The door shut behind him with a solid thunk.

Abby looked at Dylan. She could see the same disappointment in his face that she felt herself. For one brief second, Abby had felt like she had an ally.

And that was a dangerous thing to depend on, Abby reminded herself. She knew full well how a man could let her—and more, her sons—down. So she went back into the office and went back to work, doing the only thing she knew how to do, to—

Survive.

Chapter Two

Dylan straightened the sofas, replaced the cushions and pillows and picked up the empty soda cans from the scarred coffee table. The rest of the teenagers had headed outside after Cody, a sort of group mutiny. Dylan could hear the ping-ping of a basketball hitting the pavement.

Well, that hadn’t gone too well. He’d hoped maybe he could connect with the teenagers, have an open discussion, maybe warn them off from making the same mistakes as he had. But so far, his batting average at being a teen group leader was pretty close to zero. For the hundredth time, he wondered why Uncle Ty had thought he could be good at this.

The little kids had finished their craft project, and were sitting in a circle on the carpet while Mavis read them a story about a lost kangaroo. Maybe that was the age when Dylan should be telling them to stay in school. When they still thought books and stories held magic, and when they weren’t scarred by the world.

Uncle Ty came over and picked up a cushion that had fallen on the floor. “That went pretty well. I liked how you handled them.”

Dylan turned to his uncle. “Really? They all walked out on me.”

Ty waved that off. “It happens. The last thing teenagers want you to know is that they’re listening to you and agreeing with you. The first time I led a teen group, it lasted maybe ten minutes before the whole lot of them walked out the door. I didn’t have the basketball court or the game stations then, so they all went home. Your group lasted a lot longer than that.”

“Maybe. But they still left.” Dylan sighed.

“No, they’re still here.” Ty pointed to the boys outside the window, shooting layups and teasing each other between shots. “Getting teenagers to listen is like turning a cruise ship. You don’t yank the wheel hard to the right. You nudge it, a little at a time, so the passengers don’t even feel the turn.”

Dylan chuckled. “Covert counseling?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Talking to the teenagers had been like talking to his former self, if he could have done that fifteen or sixteen years ago and with better results. Of course, Dylan hadn’t listened to anyone back then, not even his uncle. Dylan had been so angry at the world, so ready to leave Stone Gap. Maybe if he’d listened years ago, his path wouldn’t have been so rocky, and he wouldn’t be thirty-two and still trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“Don’t worry so much. You’re doing great.” Ty looked around the room and let out a long breath. “There’s so much to do here. I put everything on hold when Virginia got sick because I kept thinking she’d get better and I’d have time, but...” Ty shook his head. “I need to repaint. Replace that carpet. Repair a few of the chairs and sofas, fix the kitchen cabinets, replace a chunk of countertop that rotted when we had a water pipe burst. One of the toilets is leaking and there’s a hole in the roof, two broken windows, a big hole in the hallway wall and another over there. That’s just the big stuff, not to mention all the little things that need to be done around this place. I don’t even know where to start.”

He could hear the stress in Ty’s voice. The center was, indeed, in need of a major overhaul. Major overhauls—of buildings at least—were something Dylan could do. He draped an arm over his uncle’s shoulders. “It’s like steering a cruise ship, Uncle Ty. One thing at a time. Show me where the tools are and I’ll start on the repairs today.”

Gratitude eased the worry in Ty’s face. His uncle looked tired, worn down by the last few weeks. “I’ll get my toolbox. I have a list as long as my arm of things I need to buy at the hardware store—”

“Give it to me. Go home tonight, let me lock up. The center’s only open for another hour, and I’m sure I can handle things for that long. I’ll run over to Ernie’s hardware store in the morning and start the repair work tomorrow.” It was the least he could do for his uncle during his time here. And, it would keep Dylan busy, which would also keep him from running into his brother. Or think about what he was going to do next, after he was done in Stone Gap. He had a job offer from his boss to manage a construction project in Maine. It was a multiyear commitment starting in the spring, for a slew of new housing. His boss had taken Dylan under his wing a couple years ago, even paid for Dylan to take the contractor’s exam, to make him official. Jay was a good man, who had a similar history to Dylan’s, and they’d hit it off from the start. It was the longest Dylan had ever stayed with one job, and most of that was due to Jay’s support.

Dylan had put off the decision, telling Jay he needed to go to Stone Gap first. Be there for Uncle Ty and then...

Dylan would see. Taking the job from Jay would mean staying in one place, something Dylan wasn’t so sure he wanted.

“Thank you, Dylan.” Ty’s eyes watered. “If Virginia and I had ever had a son...”

The emotion chafed at Dylan. He never knew quite what to do with emotions, his own or other people’s. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me, Uncle Ty. Or I’ll be the one heading out to the basketball court.”

“Point taken.” Ty chuckled. He dropped his keys into Dylan’s palm. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dylan squeezed his uncle’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control. See you tomorrow.”

As his uncle walked out of the building, the brunette—Cody’s mother, Abby—emerged from Ty’s office for the second time. Dylan had noticed her standing by the watercooler earlier. He didn’t know how much, if any, she’d overheard of the conversation between him and the teenagers, or if she’d just been standing there to get a drink of water.

Abby and Mavis talked for a moment. Then Abby gave Mavis a nod and headed over to Dylan, with her little boy in tow. He was a younger version of Cody, but with a bright, inquisitive face and a ready smile.

“Mavis asked me to set up the snack for everyone because she has to leave early today. And she suggested I get some help, because there are a whole lot of hungry kids here.”

He grinned. “So you’re asking me to be crowd control?”

“Pretty much, yes. But if you’re busy...”

“No, not at all.” He could have been in the middle of building the Taj Mahal, and he would have told her he had plenty of time. Something about her blue-green eyes drew him in, made him want to know more about her. They were...

Intoxicating.

A tug on the hem of Dylan’s T-shirt drew his attention. He glanced down and saw Abby’s youngest son peering up at him, with eyes a deeper green than his mother’s. He was a cute kid, only three feet tall, wearing a Transformers T-shirt, jeans and sneakers that blinked red lights when he walked. “I wanna snack. Miss Mavis said you’re gonna make me one.”

Abby put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Jake, that isn’t what Miss Mavis said. Mommy’s gonna make the snack.”

Jacob gave his mother a doubtful look. “But you don’t cook very good, Mommy.”

Abby’s cheeks flushed. Dylan liked that. The blush made her seem open, vulnerable. “I’m going to head into the kitchen now before my son spills any more family secrets.”

Dylan chuckled. “That’s okay. I used to do that to my older brother all the time when we were kids. Especially if he had a girlfriend over. I once told Wendy Simmons about the time Sam got a hornet stuck in his shorts. I thought Sam was going to kill me.”

That made Abby smile. She had a nice smile. Warm, friendly. “Sam... Sam Millwright? He’s your brother? I’ve met him a couple times. He sold my boss the property that houses our offices.”

“Yup. Sam’s my brother.” Dylan fell into step beside her as they walked toward the small kitchen at the back of the community center. “Almost five years older, but he thinks he’s twenty years older. Like he’s my father and needs to remind me how to be responsible.”

Okay, so maybe a little more resentment leaked into his voice than he would have liked. No need to spill his own family secrets to a person who was, essentially, a stranger.

“I have a younger sister like that. She’s the one who did it all right. Married the perfect man, works the perfect job at a magazine, lives in the perfect house in Connecticut.” Abby sighed. “According to her, I’m...a mess.” Then she blushed again, as if she wanted to suck the words back inside.

It was another moment of vulnerability, a chink in her armor. He suspected she rarely let anyone see her with her guard down.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you are a mess at all. When you walked in, it made me wish I was wearing something a little less...rock-concert-leftover, just so I could impress you. Like a suit or something.” Damn, where had that come from? When was the last time he’d confessed anything like that? Maybe it was because she’d given him a peek inside. Or maybe it was the way Abby carried herself, all poised and confident, that had him feeling like she was, well...a little out of his league. Okay, a lot.

She arched a brow. “A suit?”

“I do own one, contrary to what my current attire suggests. Last time I wore it was at my grandfather’s funeral and I think my mother still has it in a box somewhere. But I was ten, so I’m not so sure it would still fit me.”

She laughed, then pushed on the swinging door. As soon as the three of them entered the kitchen, Jacob scrambled onto one of the stainless steel stools and sat at the counter. He set the picture he’d been working on aside, propped his elbows on the counter and sat up tall. “I’m ready to help, Mommy.”

“That’s great, Jakester. We’re making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” She tossed Dylan a look. The laughter had disappeared from her voice, and she was all business again. “Despite my son’s one-star rating, I can handle those. Really. I’m sure you have other things to do and I hate to put you out. I’ll be fine on my own. Really.”

The teenagers had finished their basketball game and began to file into the building in a hum of conversation and heavy footsteps. As they headed for the couches, they glanced over at the kitchen. “Yo, man, where’s the food?” Matt called out.

“Coming soon,” Dylan said. He turned back to Abby. He got the distinct feeling she was giving him the brush-off. She had, after all, asked for his help, then promptly changed her mind. “I don’t mind helping at all. And, I have the skills. I have, after all, been making my own sandwiches for almost twenty years now. In fact, I even have Expert Sandwich Maker on my résumé.”

“And did you actually get hired somewhere because of that?”

“I think it was my Great Ninja Skills section that impressed the bosses.” He winked at Jacob. “I bet you’re a great ninja, Jake.”

“I am. I scare Mommy all the time cuz I go like this.” He hopped down off the stool, then tiptoed forward, with his hands bent like T. rex arms. “I’m super quiet.”

Abby ruffled his hair. “You’re four, Jake. I don’t think quiet is an adjective for you yet.”

Jake squirmed in his seat, as if proving the point that he was neither stealthy nor quiet. “Did you see my picture I made?”

Abby glanced at the paper. “Very good, Jake. I like your doggy.”

From where Dylan stood, he wasn’t sure how Abby discerned the brown blob on the paper was a dog, but then again, Dylan wasn’t exactly an art critic. Nor could he draw worth a damn. The pot couldn’t exactly pass judgment on the kettle here.

“You know why I drew it?” Jake bounced up and down on his knees. “Cuz I love dogs.”

Abby smiled. “I know. If there’s one thing you talk about more than dinosaurs, my little non-ninja, it’s dogs.”

Jake studied his drawing, his lips thinned in concentration. “Can we get a puppy, Mommy? Mrs. Reynolds next door said her dog had puppies and I can has one if I want.”

“It’s have, and no, we’re not getting a puppy right now. I have my hands full with you guys.” She waved toward the sink. “Go wash your hands, buddy, then sit down again and you can lay out the bread. I’ll put on the peanut butter and jelly.”

“Or, I can do the peanut butter and you can do the jelly,” Dylan said. Somehow, they had ended up inches apart. He could catch the floral notes of her perfume, see the lower lashes that dusted under her eyes. “Assembly-line style.”

Why was he trying so hard? Even though Mavis had the little ones under control, Dylan did need to check on the older kids in the center and keep working on that list of repairs, and making sandwiches wasn’t a job she couldn’t handle.

“I’ve got it.” She handed Jake the loaf of bread, then retrieved the peanut butter from the shelf. “Thanks.”

The thanks was a clear dismissal. She had obviously changed her mind about his help. She was also intelligent and beautiful and light-years out of his league. He should take the hint and leave her be.

Instead, he reached into the fridge for the jelly before she could grab it. “An extra set of hands makes the job go faster,” Dylan said. “I have no doubt you are fully capable of making a couple dozen sandwiches all by yourself. But there are hungry kids out there who don’t care who’s slapping on the peanut butter, just as long as it’s ready yesterday.”

She glanced at the teenagers, who were watching the whole conversation from where they sat. At the same time, Mavis finished the book she was reading, and the little kids scrambled to their feet and dashed to sit at the tables. Mavis waved toward the door, a question in her face, and Abby nodded. “Okay. But only because the kids shouldn’t have to wait.”

It wasn’t exactly her saying she’d been so charmed by his smile that she couldn’t say no, but he’d take it.

Dylan slipped in beside her. Jake handed his mother a piece of bread, Abby slathered peanut butter on it, then Dylan spread jelly across the surface and topped it with a second slice of bread. “Are you always this difficult to help?” he asked.

“I’m not difficult. It’s just...” She handed him the next piece of peanut-buttered bread. “In my experience, it’s better to do things on my own than to count on someone else to help.”

Someone had let this woman down. More than once. Dylan wouldn’t consider himself Mr. Dependable, but he was the kind of guy who kept his word. He made three more sandwiches before he spoke again. “Well, maybe you’ve been counting on the wrong people.”

She sent him a sideways glance. “Or maybe it’s just better to count on myself. No surprises that way.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” He slapped the last piece of bread onto the final sandwich, then pulled a knife out of the drawer and cut the stacks in half.

“Diagonal,” Abby said softly. “That’s how my mom did it.”

“Mine, too.”

They shared a glance for a heartbeat, heat filling the space between them, then she spun toward the fridge and filled a tote with juice boxes. A second later, they’d put the snacks onto the sill between the kitchen and the main room. The kids descended like locusts, and before Dylan could blink, every last crumb was gone. Jacob wolfed down half a sandwich, then dashed off with the others to play with a bucket of Legos. That left Dylan and Abby alone in the kitchen.

“Well, I’d say you got a five-star rating on your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Dylan retrieved the empty tray and put it in the sink.

A grin flickered across her face. “Maybe I should add that to my résumé.”

“Seems to me like you’re the kind of girl who already has one hell of a résumé.”

Interest sparked in her eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because you are smart and talented. Not to mention beautiful, which isn’t a résumé thing, I know, but—” He stopped before his mouth ran away from him.

Her gaze narrowed. “Are you making a pass at me?”

“I’m...” Was he? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t in town long, and even if he was staying, he wasn’t a guy who did long-term. Abby was completely out of his league and definitely had long-term written all over her. That reality reined him back in. “Just making an observation.”

“Oh. Well, uh, thank you. That’s...that’s very nice of you to say.” She spun away from the sink and started loading the leftover juice boxes back into the refrigerator.

Dylan knew a brush-off when he saw one, and Abby had just flicked him off like a cobweb on her shoulder. Dylan gave Abby one more look, then headed back out to the main room.

* * *

Abby washed the platter and knives, then dried them and stored them on the shelves of the kitchen. She glanced around the room and noticed the peeling paint, the nearly bare shelves, the broken cabinets, the missing chunk of countertop. She’d been bringing her kids here for a year and had never seen it this...lonely. When Virginia had been alive, the kitchen had been full and sparklingly clean. Now it just seemed tired.

Dylan stuck his head in the door. “Hey, we’re closing soon. Do you need anything?”

“No. But I think this place does.” She let out a sigh. “Things started falling apart when Virginia got sick, but since she died...it just hasn’t been the same around here.”

Dylan came inside and let the door swing shut behind him. “My aunt Virginia was one of a kind.”

“I didn’t know her long, but I’d agree with you. She was like a second mother to the kids.” Abby folded the dish towel in thirds and laid it on the counter. Maybe it was his help with the sandwiches, maybe it was seeing him try so hard to talk to Cody, but Abby found herself opening up ever so slightly. “When I first started coming here with the boys, Virginia was the one who connected with Cody. Jacob, he’s the kind of kid who connects with anyone, but Cody...he hasn’t been the same since his father left.”

Dylan leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked so solid there, like the kind of guy she could lean against. “My aunt was like that with me, too. I didn’t get along with my dad, and Uncle Ty and Aunt Virginia became more like my parents.” Dylan shifted his weight. “How long has it been since Cody’s dad left? Sorry. Ty told me a little about your situation.”

She should have been angry. Abby tended to keep her personal life to herself. But she saw something in Dylan, something that reminded her of her boys. He had, after all, gotten Ty’s stamp of approval which wasn’t given to just anyone. Maybe this guy knew something about how hard it was for her to be mom, dad and breadwinner all at the same time. Or maybe she’d just liked the way he smiled at her earlier. In a day filled with stress, that had made her feel good for a second.

“You want to hear about the first or the second time?” She shook her head. “I was stupid enough to take him back and try again. He was gone again the day I found out I was pregnant with Jacob. Despite all the promises he made, when it came down to it, my ex wasn’t exactly interested in being a father.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal. She’d gotten over the hurt long ago, but there were days when she wanted to throttle the boys’ father for the looks of disappointment in their eyes. He’d barely done more than send a birthday card while Cody was growing up, but she’d thought Keith had changed during those few months when he came back. Believed him when he said he wanted a second chance. She’d foolishly thought maybe having Jacob would change things. It hadn’t.

“Well, at least the boys got a great mother,” Dylan said.

She didn’t feel that great on the days when she got truancy notices about Cody and difficult questions from a curious Jake who was beginning to notice he didn’t have a father. “And how do you know I’m a great mother?”

“I don’t. But your kids seem to be good kids, and that doesn’t happen by accident.” He pushed off from the counter and crossed to her. “I’ve never had kids, but I know how important it is to have a good influence in your life.”

This was not a topic Abby wanted to discuss. All it did was remind her of how she had picked the wrong man—twice. She averted her gaze and concentrated on wiping up some crumbs. “It’s great that you’re helping Ty.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really doing much.”

He seemed embarrassed by the praise. She wanted to know why, if he was just a naturally humble guy or if he didn’t think he deserved it. But she didn’t ask, because she had enough on her plate and caring about one more person would tip her over the edge.

Cody was a minute away from being kicked out of school. Jake was doing okay, but he was having trouble paying attention in preschool, and she was worried that he was going to end up following his older brother down a difficult path.

At least they have a great mother—she wasn’t so sure about that. She glanced through the half window at Jake, sitting in a chair by the window, no longer interacting with the other kids, while Cody was draped across an armchair, lost in his phone, sullen and angry again. Whatever momentary good mood he’d experienced earlier was gone now.

She sighed. This was why she couldn’t get involved with anyone. Couldn’t even think about a personal life, no matter how nice Dylan’s smile was or how kind his eyes seemed. Because she was barely holding her own life together.