With a snort, Teague shook off the memory and reached for his gear. No sense in dwelling on a simpler time—a time when the only thing he’d had to worry about was the jumping rock and poison ivy. The world he lived in now was about as far away from that as you could get.
“No going back,” he muttered, sending his line out into the calm water.
The next few hours saw the sunrise and the lake slowly come to life. By the time boats were zipping along the open water, pulling skiers and tubers, Teague was done. He’d had a good morning and his large cooler held four good-sized pike and two largemouth bass.
He tied up the boat and gathered his gear together and then headed into the boathouse. Once everything was put back where it belonged, he returned for his cooler, intent on cleaning the fish and getting them ready to eat.
A kid was sprawled on the dock, peering over the edge into Teague’s boat. The blond curls were unmistakable. Harry.
Teague took a step closer and paused as a puppy came hurtling his way along with another kid.
Morgan.
Both of them were in pajamas—seemed the superhero thing was a big deal in their house—and Morgan’s hair was a mess. He glanced up at the cottage.
Irritated, he tried not to show it and kept his voice level. “Where’s your mother?” he asked, kneeling beside Harry so that he could retrieve his cooler. Bingo jumped up and tried to lick his face, and with a scowl, he gently pushed the dog out of the way.
“Sleeping,” Morgan answered, joining her brother, those big eyes of hers meeting his. She pointed to the cooler. “What’s in there?”
“Fish, you dummy,” Harry replied, pushing to his knees. “Right? You went fishing this morning?”
Teague didn’t reply—he just gave a quick nod. He had other things on his mind… like a hearty breakfast. The muffins didn’t cut it and he was hungry as hell.
“I like to fish,” Harry said standing up and rubbing his tummy. “But Mommy doesn’t like to take us out in the boat.”
“That’s because she can’t,” Morgan said with a frown.
“Can’t?” Teague asked, grabbing the cooler.
Harry shrugged. “She can’t swim and only goes in the boat with Daddy. And since Daddy is in heaven she…” Harry snuck a glance at his sister, who was nodding in agreement.
“Since Daddy is in heaven, there’s no one to take us on the boat.” Morgan sounded matter of fact, but something in her eyes made Teague uncomfortable. She’d gone through a lot for someone so young.
He cleared his throat and nodded toward their cottage.
“You guys shouldn’t be down here alone. Maybe you should head back up to the house until your mom wakes up.”
“But she’s sleeping in the family room and we don’t want to wake her,” Harry piped up, moving to Teague’s side. “Bingo is loud.”
Morgan nodded. “She doesn’t sleep that good.”
I know the feeling, Teague thought.
“Sometimes she cries in her sleep.” Harry kicked at the dock with his bare toe.
Teague’s gut tightened and he glanced away. How the hell did you deal with kids who said exactly what was on their minds? Things that he—basically a stranger—had no right to know.
“I’m hungry,” Harry said.
“Do you have eggs?” Morgan asked, reaching for his hand.
Startled, Teague didn’t move and when the small fingers tried to thread through his, he let them. What the hell? Christ, he’d refused to hold his own niece a few weeks back. The baby was too damn small and he was too damn nervous. What if dropped his squirmy niece? He didn’t relate to kids. End of story. Not these ones anyway.
The kids over there? The ones who’d been raised to kill? Those ones he understood.
“Do you?” Morgan asked again, shaking him from his thoughts. “I can help. I like to swoosh them around in the bowl though Mommy doesn’t like me to cook.”
“That’s because you started that fire,” Harry said, poking her in the shoulder. “And the fireman had to come.”