The Summer He Came Home (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 1)

Raine sighed heavily. “And then we’ll have to listen to song after song about the pain of his tragically broken heart. Seriously, you can’t do that to us.” There was a teasing undertone to her voice, but Maggie knew the woman was serious.

The smell of steak on the barbecue drifted toward them. Maggie glanced up at the house and smiled as Lauren waved down to her. Jake was with her, and he nodded in their general direction, then disappeared around the corner where the barbecue was located.

“Mom! Is it almost time for supper? We’re starved.”

Michael and Tommy came running up the beach. She decided to put aside Raine’s words and concentrate on the here and now. The young widow longed for a past that would never be hers again. Maggie had no desire at all to revisit hers.

***

Cain stretched back and watched his mother and Maggie converse. They were on the deck of the cottage relaxing, sipping hot chocolate. Dinner had been great, the steak tender, the wine smooth, and the company… His eyes rested on the redhead. The company was perfect.

Raine had grabbed a ride home with Jake, and Mac had disappeared soon after the plates were cleared. Draper had claimed he had somewhere to be, but Cain suspected it was more that a visit to the Coach House was needed in order to drown his demons in a bottle of vodka.

He sighed. As long as Mackenzie stayed away from his father, he’d be okay.

Dusk was settling, and he’d built a bonfire near the beach. Michael’s buddy Tommy had just left—his father had swung by—and now it was just the two of them. Michael threw some branches he’d collected onto the flames, and they watched the tiny embers that flew into the air like fireflies. “Do you have marshmallows?” Michael’s eyes widened hopefully.

“Sure do. My mom brought a bag with her.”

“Awesome. Do you have wieners?”

“Dude, you just ate an entire T-bone, and you want more meat?”

Michael giggled. “I make the best SpiderDogs ever.”

“Maybe a midnight snack, if you’re still up.”

Soft feminine laughter drew their attention, and Cain’s heart jumped at the sight of Maggie laughing at something his mother had said. The woman could change the world with that smile.

“Do you hate your Dad?” Michael asked suddenly. His foot sifted through the sand, his eyes fixed on his toes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

But Cain knew better.

“Hate?” He shrugged and settled back onto his elbows. “That’s a pretty strong word.” He thought about it for a few moments. “I don’t think I hated my father. Even when he was home, he wasn’t really around. I was more hurt and disappointed, I guess.” His eyes closed, and once more he saw the little boy that he’d been. Waiting. Always waiting. “That first year after he left, I thought every night would be the one.”

“The one?”

“The night that he’d come home, back to me and my mom. But it never happened, and eventually I gave up.”

Michael slid in beside him, and Cain moved, gave the kid some room. The boy nestled against him, and something hit him in the gut that he wasn’t expecting. A rush of emotion that was both a need to protect and something else entirely.

It was the something else entirely that he wasn’t real sure about.

“I hate him.” Michael said quietly. “My dad. I don’t want to see him ever again.”

Cain was silent. He had no idea what to say, but one thought spoke loudest in his mind. Maggie’s ex was alive. Somewhere out there.

“He used to hurt my mom.” Michael’s voice trembled.

Cain glanced up at Maggie. He couldn’t see her face anymore—the shadows had grown long—but he heard the soft lilt to her voice, that Southern roll that he’d come to adore. He saw the elegant curve of her hand, an artist’s hand, tuck a stray curl behind her ear. His heart leaped into his throat, and anger tightened inside him. His fist clenched, but he remained silent.

“I used to hear her crying at night sometimes, and once it was so loud, so…sad that I wanted to make her feel better.” Michael’s chin trembled, and Cain’s fist unclenched. “I snuck into their room…” His fingers crept onto the boy’s shoulder, and Michael glanced up then, his huge blue eyes glistening with tears. “I saw him hit her.” Michael made a fist and shoved it in the air between them—a small, angry fist that trembled. His face darkened, the cheeks flushed a ruddy color. “His hand was like this, and he hit her on her arm and then on her face.” Michael s

huddered angrily and swiped at the tears that fell from his eyes. “Over and over,” he whispered.

Something twisted inside Cain, something dark and deadly.

“Hey, it’s all right buddy. We don’t need to talk about this right now.” Cain rubbed Michael’s shoulder, trying his best to keep his voice neutral and calm. It was hard. He was fucking livid. He needed to focus on the boy.