Teague (The Family Simon 4)

She glanced at her son and frowned, shaking her head and reaching for the bag of chips that he clutched in his hands.

“But, mommy they’re my favorite ones. I love pickles.” Harry’s fingers tightened around the bag and he stared up at her with eyes so much like Brent’s that it made her heart ache.. With long curls hanging over his left brow and a mouth that was full and rosy, he looked like an angel. “Daddy used to buy them for me.”

Daddy . One word that could bring her to her knees. One word that still hurt like hell.

She paused, muscles tight across her shoulders, and had to take a few moments because she thought that just maybe she was going to lose it. And Sabrina Campbell couldn’t afford to lose it. No way. Especially not in the grocery store. Old Mrs. Leads still worked the express cash and all Sabrina needed was for the woman to report back to Sabrina’s mother-in-law. If that happened the peace she so desperately needed would be lost.

Hazards of a small resort town where everybody knew everyone.

“Harry,” she began calmly, smiling at an elderly man who nudged past them. “We already have enough junk food to last us weeks.”

“But I want these ones,” he said, thrusting out his chin.

“Fine,” she replied. “Then we’ll have to put something else back.”

“Okay.” Harry shrugged. “Let’s put back the Cheetos.”

That almost got a smile out of her. “But those are Morgan’s favorite.”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. She likes these ones too.”

With a sigh Sabrina rooted through the full shopping cart until she found the bag of plain potato chips. “Put these back Harry.”

“But I like those with the dip.”

Pain spliced across her forehead and she counted to three. “Harry,” she said softly—dangerously so.

“But—”

“Put the plain chips back or you get nothing.”

This time her tone was sharp and when his bottom lip trembled a bit, she felt like crap, but dammit, was it too much to ask for them to get through their grocery order quickly so she could get back to the cottage? All she wanted was a quiet night on the sofa with a book she’d pretend to read and a glass of wine to calm her nerves.

She watched Harry march across the aisle and place the plain potato chips back on the shelf before returning to her side and putting his precious dill pickle chips on top of everything else.

“Are we done?” he asked, eyes downcast. “I’m hungry.”

She blew out a long breath, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and ran a critical eye over her cart. “I think so.” If she forgot anything, a quick trip back to town in the morning was a better idea than spending one more minute here tonight.

“Let’s go.”

Sabrina glanced behind her and then darted a look back to Harry. “Where’s your sister?”

He looked behind Sabrina and pointed. “She was right there looking at the cookies.”

Irritated, tired, and now a little anxious, Sabrina pushed her cart forward. “Let’s find her and go home. I’ll get takeout from Burger Mania. Sound good?”

Harry said something, but Sabrina wasn’t exactly sure what it was because as she rounded the end of the aisle and went down the next one, her anxiety mounted. Morgan was nowhere in sight. She continued past the rice and pasta aisle and turned down the next one. Again, no Morgan.

Trying not to panic, she increased her speed, whispering fiercely at Harry to keep up. Her heart was beating erratically, like a drum—thump, thump, thump—and as a wash of heat rolled over her, she leaned into her grocery cart because she felt dizzy.

Oh my god! Where is she?

Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut for a second, desperately trying to blot out the nightmare she’d been having off and on since Brent passed away. The fear of losing her children—the fear of being alone—made her gag and with a strangled grunt she broke out into a jog and pushed her cart toward the dairy aisle, eyes wild as she continued forward.

What if someone had snatched her precious Morgan while she was arguing with Harry over a stupid bag of chips?

“Morgan,” she whispered fiercely, eyeing a young couple a few feet away. “Have you seen a little girl? Dark braids and blue eyes?” she asked. “She’s wearing a Spiderman T-shirt?” They shook their heads and she didn’t bother to reply as she raced toward the produce aisle. If Morgan wasn’t there, she didn’t know what the hell she’d do.