The Good Father

Brett ordered a burger, his standard order as a kid, and tried not to stare at the little guy across the table—imagining Jeff with him, the gentleness with which his friend would explain exactly why he couldn’t get down out of his high chair. And why he couldn’t drink all of his milk before his dinner.

Chloe did a fine job in Jeff’s absence.

But Cody’s dad was missing out on key time in his son’s life. Which gave Brett a sense of urgency he hadn’t had that morning.

And he’d already been damned motivated.

“So...how’s Jeff?” Chloe asked as soon as their food was delivered, and she had Cody settled with his chicken fingers, fries and ketchup.

“Good.” The burger tasted just as good as he’d remembered. He hadn’t expected it to.

“Of course, it’s hard to tell over the phone,” she said, fork in hand, though she had yet to take her first bite.

“I spent last night with him.”

“Here?” Used to reading people, Brett was a bit disconcerted by the mixture of fear and delight in Chloe’s expression. “Jeff’s in town?”

“No. Ella told me that he doesn’t know where you are. I wouldn’t bring him here and risk the possibility of him seeing you.”

Santa Raquel wasn’t that small, but fate had a way of playing its own hand in spite of the cards you thought you held.

“You spent the night at our house?” Another mixture of emotions that complicated things. Or added weight to Jeff’s assumption that his wife was suffering from some latent hormonal imbalance.

He was going to have to approach that possibility. As soon as he figured out how to do so without alienating either of the women.

“I did,” he said, taking another bite of burger and chasing it with a fry. It wasn’t peanut butter and bacon, but it was as good. “He took me for a hundred bucks at the pool table, we had a couple beers and we talked.”

“What did he say about me?”

“That he misses you.”

“That’s all? Nothing else? Where did he say I was?” Without breaking her gaze from Brett, she reached over to scoot a chicken finger away from the edge of the table where Cody had left it.

“He told me the truth. That he doesn’t know. And that he’s respecting your wishes not to look for you, or alert anyone that you’ve left him.”

“I haven’t!”

A look passed between Chloe and Ella, and then Chloe said, “I’m not leaving Jeff for good. I love him. I just have to stay away until he can admit that he has a problem and gets some help. It’s the only way I can help him. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve accepted his apologies and tried to make his home exactly as he needs it to be, but it’s not enough, Brett. As I’m sure you understand.”

Because he’d grown up in an abusive environment, she meant. Or maybe she was referring to the fact that he’d founded a shelter for victims of domestic violence.

Which reminded him. “I heard that you’re going to be helping them out at the Stand,” he said. A great idea as far as he was concerned. Chloe had not only majored in home economics in college, but she was a culinary-arts-school graduate, as well.

Besides, Brett had tasted her cooking.

“Yeah.” She took her first bite of salad. “I met Lila yesterday. She’s a great find, Brett. You chose well.”

The compliment rolled past him. He wasn’t the one who’d conducted interviews. He’d just read reports. His one condition on founding the shelter, his one completely selfish mandate, was that he remain anonymous. He did not feel fit to be a spokesperson for the cause. Or in any way trained to help victims.

He didn’t want their gratitude.

Because he didn’t feel worthy of it.

He had his strengths. The things he was good at. And those were the things to which he dedicated his life.

“I’m just glad that you’re willing to help out while you’re here,” he said. “They’re very lucky to have you.” And Chloe knew, as did Ella, that no one at the Stand knew that Brett was their benefactor.

He’d had a text that morning, informing him of the personnel addition. His mother kept herself fully abreast of every aspect of her responsibilities where he was concerned. And kept him well informed.