Teague (The Family Simon 4)

And there it was. The thing that she could never get away from. The ‘C’ word. Sabrina’s heart twisted. Her children had heard and seen so much in their short lives. Things they could never un-see or un-hear.

Their father weak from chemo and struggling just to walk. Or puking in a bowl while they watched television.

An awkward silence fell between them and then Harry yanked on Morgan’s arm. “Come on! Mommy’s taking us to Burger Mania and then she said we could watch a movie before bed. Like the whole movie until the end and everything.”

Morgan skipped toward Sabrina, the sweetest smile on her face when she looked over her shoulder at the man who stood watching them in silence.

“Goodbye Tigger,” she squealed, running after her brother.

Sabrina cleared her throat and turned the cart to follow her kids up to the cashier. “I’m sorry, she’s full of beans.”

His eyes were dark and direct and the gold flecks made them luminous. She saw something in them. Something she recognized and she swallowed, m

outh suddenly dry. She was filled with the urge to run which was ridiculous. Sabrina was an adult. But Teague Simon was much too intense and she was way too tired to deal with him.

“I was an asshole this morning.”

Sabrina took a moment. In fact she took a couple before smoothing the front of her T-shirt and clearing her throat. She didn’t look up because she couldn’t. Because she didn’t want to.

“Yeah. You were.” She said no more because she had nothing else, and headed to the front of the store with her kids.

Hours later, she stood alone in the dark, eyes on the water. It was quiet with only a few stars to light the night sky, and she shivered, cold from the damp. She couldn’t shake the heaviness inside her, and damn, but it weighed a lot. It wrapped around her shoulders and settled in like an old friend.

It made her so weary; so tired of everything. And sometimes it made her tired of life. If it wasn’t for her kids…

Sabrina gave herself a mental shake and pushed back from the railing that ran the length of her deck. She couldn’t go down that road again. Not now. She knew that if she did, she would lose herself. Hell, she’d barely made it back the last time.

Instead she turned, but paused, catching the scent of tobacco—a cigar if she wasn’t mistaken. Eyes on the Simon cottage, she spied the soft glow from the tip of a cigar and the silhouette of a man.

She watched him draw from the cigar once more as he too faced the darkness and the lake, blowing lazy circles of smoke into the air. In the distance an owl hooted, it’s eerie cry echoing across the water.

Teague turned and Sabrina’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. She stepped back, grateful for the darkness that fell across her deck. For several moments, he stared up at her place and then with another draw on his cigar, he disappeared from sight.

Blowing out a long breath, Sabrina made her way back inside her quiet summer home. She blew out the honeysuckle candle in the kitchen and locked the doors. She checked on her sleeping children, kissing two foreheads and rumpling two heads of hair. She left their nightlight on and bypassed her bedroom without a thought. She hadn’t been able to sleep in that particular room since, well, not since Brent.

Sabrina eyed the open bottle of Malbec on the counter, but with a sigh, corked the wine and slid onto the sofa. She grabbed the old, worn, plaid throw that laid across the back and wrapped it around her shoulders. She held it against her face, nuzzling the edge, inhaling deeply, and then closed her eyes.

She liked to think that she could still smell Brent, but in truth, his scent was long gone. She liked to imagine that the thought of him wrapped in this blanket gave her comfort. That the memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, could lift her spirit. It used to.

But on this night there was nothing but that heavy weight. Nothing but that silence and the darkness pressing in. There was nothing but the loneliness.

Sabrina turned into the sofa and curled into a ball. She bit her lip, hating the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes, and prayed that sleep would come soon. But as it had for most nights over the last year, she stared into the dark and prayed for hours.

When she finally fell asleep, her tear-stained cheeks stung and the sound of birds greeting the dawn was the last thing she heard.

Chapter Three

The damn morning dove woke him again. Its soft coo echoed inside his bedroom from the open window and Teague knew the bird was just getting started.

“I’m going to shoot that thing,” he muttered.

He flung back his covers and slid out of bed. It was still dark but a hint of light rode the horizon over the lake and he padded forward, rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the tight muscles.

His sheets were a tangled mess but he didn’t give a shit. There was no one here to impress and even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. By his count he’d gotten maybe three hours of shut-eye. The dreams, or rather nightmares, that had haunted him for months had come back with a vengeance.

Guess the damn sleeping pills weren’t working. He glanced over to his bed and spied an empty bottle on the floor.

Neither was the whiskey.