a reason to.”
Dylan didn’t show any obvious reaction, but Darius knew he heard every word.
“I’m happy you found me. I want to know—” He broke off, because the idea of getting to know his own teenage son was too overwhelming right now. One step at a time. “There’s a lot that I want to know. But the first thing is whether Buck O’Connor is looking for you. Does he know that you’re here?”
“I left a note that I was going to find my real father. He knows who you are, so I guess he just doesn’t really care. He’s probably relieved that I’m gone.”
“Okay. Well, just in case, we’re going to have to get ahold of him.”
Dylan shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
“My other question is, why’d you set those fires?” Even though he tried hard to keep his tone gentle, an edge of outrage entered his voice. Fire wasn’t something to mess around with. The idea that his own son had been setting fires around his town…it stuck in his craw.
“I don’t know.” Dylan finally looked up, revealing an expression of honest confusion. “I guess I was just mad.”
“At me?”
“No. I don’t know. I guess. You have a good life. You’re all happy and shit. You have a hot girlfriend. It’s like my mom and me never existed.” The hurt words burst out of him, seeming to surprise even himself. “I didn’t want to hurt anything. And I didn’t, not really. So what if a bunch of junk got burned up? I just wanted to mess with you. Like, why should everything be good for you and everything sucks for me?”
“Okay. I guess I can see the logic. Sort of.” He glanced back at Kate, who offered a mystified shrug but no advice.
Great. Where was the guidebook for how to deal with an angry teenage son you never knew existed? An angry teenage runaway son. An angry teenage runaway firebug son.
A son. He had a son. This complete stranger of a kid was his blood. He could barely comprehend it.
But one thing he knew for sure was that this boy needed him. He was all alone in Alaska, in trouble with the law. He needed adult supervision.
“I want you to come stay with me.” His brusque statement made Dylan’s head whip up. “You can stay on the couch.”
“But I set all those fires.”
“And you’re going to have to answer for that. But right now, that’s not the point. You’re my son and I want you to stay with me. You came all this way for a reason, right?”
“I guess so,” he muttered. Darius put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the young bones under the thick hoodie. What had those bones been like when he was a little boy, or a toddler, or a baby? The thought twisted his heart, but he couldn’t let his own emotions get in the way here. The important thing was Dylan.
“Then it’s settled.” He squeezed lightly and caught a tiny nod from the boy. Darius rose to his feet and looked down at S.G.. She was practically plastered to Dylan’s side. “S.G., did you know anything about the fires before tonight?”
She shook her head quickly. “He didn’t tell me that part. He just told me he was here to find you. I couldn’t tell you before because it wasn’t my secret. I mean, I did tell you eventually but that’s because Dylan was being so stupid and stubborn.”
He gave a wry chuckle. “Maybe it runs in the family.”
Even though Dylan’s head was still lowered, Darius caught the slightest hint of a smile from him.
Emma cleared her throat loudly. “I’m going to bed. I never did like soap operas, and now I know why. I’d like my house to myself now, if you all don’t mind. Be nice if someone can feed my chickens on the way out.” She marched out of the room.
Kate beckoned to the kids. “Come on, let’s give her some space. Dylan, you got your first chicken-feeding payback opportunity. I’ll show you the drill.” As the kids got to their feet, she added, “By the way, Darius, I’ve already offered Dylan my legal expertise. I can’t represent him, but I can help out in any other way that you need.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Oh, it’s not for you. It’s for him. I know how it feels to be a kid alone in the big wide world.”
“He’s not alone,” Darius corrected her. “Not anymore.”
A