"Uh, you know, the baby. Uh…" He rushed to add a little too quickly, "Mrs. Dawson told me."
He scuffed a gym shoe again just as he'd done at nine years old when lying about dumping his sister's makeup into the sewer system. Squeak. Squeak.
J.T. pinned him with a parental stare and knowledge. "You knew already."
Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Geez, Dad, and Nikki calls me a bonehead. How could you not notice Mom's getting fat?"
"Good God, son. Shh!" J.T. shot a quick glance at Rena to make sure she was still sleeping. "Don't let her hear you say the f word."
"Sorry." Shuffle. Squeak. "I figured it wasn't my place to mention anything and Mom didn't need to be upset in her, you know, condition. Guess this means you're coming home."
He intended to, but no need to raise Chris's hopes. "Your mother and I need to talk first."
Chris slouched, muttering something that sounded like a surly "About damn time."
J.T. bit back the urge for a reprimand on a day already full of enough tension. "Son, I'm sorry to say your car's totaled. The van that hit it wiped it out."
Chris paled under the bronzed complexion he'd inherited from his mother along with the head of dark curls. "Totaled?"
"Afraid so. Insurance will cover everything after the deductible, but it may take a while for the check to come through. There isn't money for a replacement until we get the settlement." And didn't that bite a chunk out of his pride, not being able to provide for his family.
"Sure. I understand. It's just good Mom and the baby weren't hurt."
The accident kicked right back to the forefront of his memory. He couldn't let the emotions shake his focus. The cops hadn't been much help and wouldn't be unless he could give them something more to go on. Figuring out what the odd black-and-red emblem on the bumper represented would be a good start.
Once he got his family settled.
J.T. stood, leaned against the opposite side of the window frame as his son. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
Chris's tone and chalky face sent parental antennae on high alert. With deployments keeping him away so much, time with his son lately was scarce. What might he have missed? "Is there any reason someone would come after you? A gang from school?"
Meeting his father's gaze dead on, no shuffling, Chris answered, "I'm not mixed up in a gang at school."
Slowly, J.T. nodded, believed. "Okay, then." Still, he wasn't talking any chances on leaving Chris alone yet. "Bo's been waiting at the house in case we didn't find you first to tell you about your mom's accident. He's going to crash there on the sofa for the night so I can stay up here."
Chris straightened away from the wall. Anger snapped from his eyes, his temper another inherited legacy from his mother. "Geez, Dad, I'm sixteen. I can stay overnight on my own. It's not like I'm gonna throw some drug-flowing orgy while you're gone or anything."
God forbid.
"Bo will crash on the sofa," J.T. restated, unbending. Arguing never solved anything.
His son slouched back again, layers of clothes rippling over his lean body. "Okay, okay, stupid me thinking anybody could have an opinion."
While he sure as hell didn't intend to justify himself to a teenager, he needed to remember his son wasn't a kid anymore. Some explanation might go a long way for easing tension. "Chris."
"Yeah, what?" He stared at his shoes.
"It's been a crappy day, son. Cut me some slack."
"Sorry," he mumbled without meeting his father's eyes.
No, his son wasn't a kid anymore.
The teen years hadn't seemed as difficult with easygoing Nikki. But there hadn't been a marriage breakup in the works.
Since he'd be around more helping out while Rena recovered, he also needed to make use of the extra time with Chris. "What do you say when I bring your mom home from the hospital, we take a couple of hours and lift some weights?"