Getting Hotter

“You were eleven years old. Of course you couldn’t keep up with a pickup truck,” she said gently.

“Adam wouldn’t have been in the truck to begin with if it weren’t for me.” Bitterness dripped from each word. “So yeah, it was my fault. I knew it. The cops knew it. Mom knew it. It was a long time before she was able to look at me again. She couldn’t look me in the eye for about three years after he died. I think she didn’t want me to see the blame in her eyes.”

Miranda cupped his cheeks and swept her thumbs over his stubble. “I don’t believe Missy blamed you for what happened. She worships you, Seth.”

He shrugged. “We moved past it.”

“By pretending your brother, her son, never existed.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

She wanted to point out how unhealthy that was, but who was she to judge how other families dealt with their grief and heartache? Yet it ripped her apart that Missy Masterson hadn’t comforted her son, that she might’ve even led him to believe he was to blame for his brother’s abduction.

“Do you understand now?” he said in a rough voice. “I don’t trust myself around children, and I know that’s ironic, because I’m supposed to be this big, bad soldier who fights for the innocent and saves lives and all that. And I do save lives.” His rugged features hardened with determination. “I enlisted for the sole purpose of doing good. To make up for what I did that day.”

“What you did that day…” she echoed, shaking her head in disbelief.

He didn’t seem to hear her. “But I always made an effort to stay away from kids. Because what if I f**ked up again? What if I turned away for even a second and then…then…” He swallowed. “I didn’t want to like your kids. I didn’t want to love them. Because the last kid I loved died. He f**king died, Miranda, and I’m the reason.”

“You were eleven years old,” she burst out, unable to control the fierce wave of protectiveness that swept through her. She gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. “You were a kid yourself and you shouldn’t have been alone with Adam in the first place! Isn’t twelve years old the legal age to leave a child home alone in Nevada? I’m not assigning blame here—because sometimes f**ked-up, horrible things happen and it’s nobody’s fault—but if anyone is to blame? It’s Missy. She should have known better than to leave two young boys to fend for themselves!”

Seth looked slightly stunned. “She…was working. To support us. And…”

“And nothing. Adam’s death is not on your head, Seth. It’s not on your mom’s head. It’s on Jarvis Henderson. He’s the monster who…who…” She couldn’t even finish, she was crying too hard.

Next thing she knew, Seth’s strong arms came around her and he pulled her into his chest. Miranda couldn’t control the big gulping sobs that slipped out. She cried for Seth and Missy and Adam, for the pain and suffering each of them must have experienced, for all those years Seth had closed his heart off because he was terrified of losing someone else he loved.

When her tears finally subsided, Seth was watching her with a sad expression.

Miranda sniffled and wiped her eyes. “What?”

“Let’s just get it over with,” he said grimly.

“Get what over with?”

“The good-bye.”

She nearly fell off his lap. “What are you talking about?”

“I yelled at your son, Miranda. I made him cry.”

She couldn’t deny that the thought of someone reducing her son to tears unleashed her maternal claws, but she forced herself to retract the mom talons and look at the situation through a different lens. Her gaze shifted to the article on the table, focusing on the smiling boy in the baseball uniform. Then she imagined Jason bounding up to Seth in such a similar outfit, and she couldn’t help but empathize with Seth, couldn’t help but understand where his irrational response had stemmed from.

“Did you apologize to Jason?” she asked.

He nodded. “We worked everything out. All three of us.”

Remembering the adorable scene she’d come home to, Miranda had to smile. “I noticed.”

“The rugrats and I are good, Miranda. I think…” Seth looked a touch amazed, “…I think we might actually be friends now. But I understand if you don’t want me to be around them again.”

She eyed him sternly. “Do you plan on yelling at either of my children again?”

“Never,” he swore.

“Will you ever make them cry?”

“Never. Well, unless I’m ripping a Band-Aid off real fast or something, but you can’t hold tears like that against me.”

Her heart squeezed. “I think the most important question I should ask is, now that you’ve spent some time with them, do you want them in your life?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Then there’s no reason to say good-bye, now is there?”

Hope flickered in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“I mean it.” A smile tickled her lips. “So here’s another question for you—Seth Masterson, will you be my boyfriend?”

Chapter Eighteen

July

The month of July flew by so fast Miranda wondered if maybe she’d blacked out for a portion of it. Somehow, it was now the night before the summer recital, and of course, disaster had to strike the second she’d patted herself on the back in the belief that everything would go smoothly tomorrow.