Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher 3)

“I might be a little stronger than you think.”

“Or I might be as terrible as everyone says I am.”

“Who is everyone?”

“You saw those people in the tackle shop today. That’s the reception I get no matter where I go.”

“Why?”

He bites his lips together. “Again, I’d like to keep you as a friend a little longer, if that’s okay with you.”

I stare at him. “So you don’t want to tell me.”

He nods. “It is my birthday,” he says. He bats his long eyelashes at me like a flirt.

I press the heel of my hand against his forehead and give it a shove. “You suck so bad.”

“I know.” He grins. Then he pops another piece of cake into his mouth and grins while he chews.

I roll my eyes and his grin grows even bigger. He’s so much like the boy I used to know, and yet somehow not.

His head jerks up when we hear the crunch of tires on gravel. His face turns completely white.

“Who is it?” I ask. But he’s already getting up. He’s already pacing. “What’s wrong?”

The joking is gone from his tone as he says quietly, “I told her I wasn’t ready.”

“Who?” Then I see his mom get out of the car, and while she has aged, she hasn’t changed that much.

But what surprises me is the little boy that dashes from the backseat of the car, and he runs toward Ethan with the biggest grin on his face. “Dad!” he yells.

And I watch as Ethan’s eyes fill up with tears as he catches his son as he flings himself at him, as he hugs him tightly, as he bares his soul for this little boy, and my eyes suddenly fill with tears too.

Ethan is a dad. I mean, I knew he was a dad because he told me. But he’s this kid’s dad. And while this visit might have been a surprise, it’s not a bad one. Not by a long shot. Ethan holds the kid tightly until he finally sets him back from him.

“Happy birthday!” the kid shouts.

“Thank you,” Ethan says. He glares at his mother. “I didn’t know you guys were coming today.” If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the ground right now.

“You can put your death stare away, Ethan,” she says, wagging her finger at him. She has her mom face on. “You can put it away right now.”

His face immediately softens, and he walks over to give her a hug. She’s tiny compared to him.

“Abigail Marshall, is that you?” she suddenly asks, when she sees me sitting there at the picnic table.

“It’s not Marshall anymore, Ma,” he says. “She went and got herself hitched.”

I scratch my nose. “Actually, it’s still Marshall. I never changed my name.”

“Why not?” he asks, looking confused.

I shrug. “It just seemed like too much trouble.”

Both mother and son stare at me, looking confused. I look toward Ethan’s son. “Your dad has a duck,” I tell him.

Then all the attention is off me and on the duck, thank God. But I catch Ethan staring at me again, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

Good, we’re even, because I don’t understand him either. All I know is that he has some big secret he doesn’t want to tell me because he’s afraid it will push me away. Fine. I’ll let him keep his secret for now.