Wife by Design

“What?” Addie looked at him, hope and a bit of panic in her eyes.

“None of us needs this whole set or this huge table. Let’s each take our chair. I know it sounds silly, but it’s the one thing that will always remind us of Mom and Dad.”

Again, silence. Then they looked around and everyone nodded. “What about the table?” Addie asked.

“Let’s leave it with the house. It’s too monstrous to move, anyway.” The real estate agent was scheduled to come tomorrow and put it on the market. Maybe a new family would love it, as well.

Again, they all agreed—an unusual occurrence. After they’d taken their lists and made plans to move their things out of the house, the chairs were lined up in the front hall. No one wanted to leave them behind today.

Wyatt and Jason helped DJ find bungee cords in the garage to strap his chair on the big bike. Then they worked to fit Jason’s in the backseat of the Lexus.

Mandy looked odd driving away in the red convertible with the four legs of her chair sticking up in the air, but no less strange than Tara’s Jeep with her chair strapped in the back with the remaining bungee cords.

Addie had walked over, her house being only a few blocks away. Wyatt put her chair in the truck’s bed with his and gave her a ride home.

She climbed into the big truck, not bothering to look back. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and then quickly away. “Goodbyes suck.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.

“The decision about the chairs was good. Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

They drove in silence until they reached her equally small drive. She didn’t open the door right away, then just as she curled her fingers around the handle, she looked over at him. The sorrow in her eyes nearly broke his heart.

But for the first time since he’d learned he had a baby sister and took on the unspoken responsibility for her, there was nothing he could do to fix her hurt.

* * *

THREE MONTHS LATER, to the day, Wyatt sat in his truck again and stared at another empty house. This one was clapboard with narrow windows. On the front porch that ran downhill, a small boy sat on the uneven steps.

The boy looked as if he’d lost his best friend. Which—if he was who Wyatt thought he was—he probably had. The world the boy had always known was about to change, irreversibly. Forever. Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading the role he had to play in this mess.

The boy rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smacked a stick against the sidewalk in an uneven beat. Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter he’d received nearly a week ago. The paper looked small and white against his suntanned hand, but what snagged his attention was the picture. Damn, the kid looked so much like DJ had at that age. It was spooky. He refolded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket.

He stared at the boy as his thoughts spun. How had this happened? How could DJ have had a child he’d never known about? And why the hell had the woman decided now to contact him? No answers came to Wyatt, which frustrated him even further.

It wasn’t the boy’s fault who his parents were, or how they’d behaved. But Wyatt knew he’d probably be the one to pay the heaviest price.

The hot Texas sun beat down on Wyatt’s shoulders as he climbed out of the truck. A warm wind slipped past, seemingly unnoticed by the glum boy.

The kid did, however, look up as Wyatt crossed the broken walk. The old metal gate creaked when he pushed it open. The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “Who are you?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Wyatt stopped. “I’m your uncle, Wyatt Hawkins. You’re Tyler?” Silence. For a second Wyatt wasn’t sure if he’d get an answer.

“Tyler Easton, yes, sir,” the boy whispered, and continued smacking his stick on the sidewalk.

“Is your mother around?” The woman he’d talked to on the phone yesterday had assured him she’d be here. She had a lot to answer for.

The boy looked up again, and Wyatt swallowed the sucker punch that hit him. No child’s eyes should hold that much hurt.

“She left.”

“Left? When?”

“S’morning. Said someone from my dad’s family was comin’ and I was s’posed to go with ’em. Is that you?”