Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery #2) - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,10

swung his head toward Hayes, who smiled. “I help out when I can. You know how I love breaking horses with bad attitudes, but I’m back on the force now.”

News to Sullivan. He never knew Hayes had left his job as a cop. “You quit the force?”

Hayes looked like he had a story to tell, but he smiled it away. “Took a break for a while, but law enforcement is where I should be.”

Sullivan nodded and took a long chug of his beer. Hayes had been bred into law enforcement and came from a long line of good men and women who’d served the community of River Rock.

When he lowered his bottle to the table, Beckett leaned back in his seat and said, “All right, buddy, the chitchat is great, and I’m damn glad to see you, but fill in the missing pieces. You could have gone anywhere to serve out your suspension or stayed with the team. Why come back to the one place you said you’d never return to?”

Sullivan’s throat began to tighten, but he swallowed past his issues with sharing. He’d come home to make things right, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. “Things, after my mom died, have been rough. This last recent bar fight was enough of a wake-up call that I needed to get my head on straight, and now that my father is dead, I needed to come home to deal with the shit I’ve been running from.” Being back in River Rock wasn’t easy. It was hell. Everything in here reminded him of his sweet mother, dead in the cold ground, and the cruel father who used his fists more than his words.

“It’s good, you know, dealing with it all,” Beckett said with a firm nod.

Hayes nodded as well. “All that shit, back then, was a lot for you to take on.” He cupped his shoulder. “It’s good you came back. About time to heal those wounds.”

Sullivan figured that was about as much as they were going to talk about feelings and such since Beckett changed the subject. “I heard today you went out to the Carters’ place.” A little smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “How did that go?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Sullivan commented.

Hayes’ eyebrow lifted. “You’re not dead or marked up at all, so I’d say it went well if those Carter sisters didn’t kill you.”

“Good point,” Sullivan hedged.

Beckett asked, “What was it like, seeing Clara again?”

“Weird,” Sullivan admitted. He took another long sip of his drink before he continued, “It’s like I know her, but I don’t.”

Obviously, this was common knowledge, since Beckett agreed with a nod. “She’s changed a lot in the last seven years.”

“She had to,” Hayes interjected. “A kid will do that to anyone.”

Sullivan felt the blood leave his face. Admittedly, he’d hoped he’d come back to River Rock and discover that Clara had found someone better than him. He’d never had the balls to ask anyone if she had married. Only now, the thought twisted him up. “A kid?”

Hayes nodded. “His name is Mason. Good kid. She’s a really great mom.”

Sullivan bit back hot jealousy, well aware he had no right to be anything but happy for her. “Is she still together with the dad?”

The country music playing through the speakers seemed to fade away as Beckett shook his head. “She’s also not married.”

A million things crossed his mind, but only one thing stood out as most important. “Who’s the dad?” Sullivan asked.

Hayes waited for a couple to pass by their table and take a seat, then he answered, “Since it’s none of my business, I’ve never asked Clara or Maisie directly, but word around town is that she had a one-night stand and didn’t know how to reach the father.”

“That’s a shame,” Sullivan muttered. She deserved far better than that. “She’s raised her son on her own, then?”

Hayes nodded, giving an affectionate smile. “Like I said, she’s a very good mother.”

Sullivan reached for his beer and took a long sip. He wondered what kind of mother she was. Sweet, stern, loving, fair? Deep down, he imagined she was probably a little of all that, just like Sullivan’s mother had been. That kid was probably Clara’s whole world. “How old is Mason?”

“Six,” Beckett said and then shook his head, adamant, at whatever crossed Sullivan’s face. “The kid isn’t yours, buddy. We all know Clara. She’s far too honest to ever lie about something so serious.”

“True,” Sullivan hedged. Though, something stirred in his chest,