Second Chance Family - Cindy Kirk Page 0,15
across the table from her, but for her own, as well.
Cole tightened the straps on his knee brace and decided he must have gone crazy. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Why else would he have agreed to let Meg move in?
He slid to the side of the bed and held on to the headboard while pulling himself upright. Catching sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror, he frowned.
While the running pants were comfortable, he felt like he should be going for a jog, rather than entertaining guests.
Not guests, he reminded himself, Meg and Charlie. While Meg might be considered a guest, Charlie was definitely family.
“My son,” Cole whispered the words aloud for the first time, the taste sweet against his tongue.
For the past five years, ever since he’d heard Janae had given birth less than nine months after their fling in Austin, he’d wondered if Charlie was his son.
By the time he’d heard the news, Janae was married to Ty. Still, Cole had contacted her. She’d insisted the baby was her husband’s child, but her words—and the timing—didn’t ring true. When he’d suggested they do a DNA test “just to be sure,” Janae had started to cry.
At that point Cole had let the matter drop. After all, he didn’t know for sure. And, in the eyes of the law, Charlie was considered Ty’s son. Not only that, Ty was a good father and he and Janae were happy together. In the ensuing years, Cole had become a friend to Ty as well as to Janae and a favorite “uncle” to Charlie.
But now everything had changed.
Grabbing his crutches, Cole made his way slowly to the living room to await Charlie and Meg’s arrival. He stifled a groan as he eased into the overstuffed leather chair. The time for making excuses was over. Once Charlie was settled in, he’d start hitting the therapy hard. And he wouldn’t need Meg’s help. No sirree.
He couldn’t believe he and Meg would be living under the same roof. It was like a twisted fairy tale. To think there had been a time when he’d have given anything to have her be the last person he saw at night and the first one when he woke up. That, of course, was before he discovered she couldn’t be trusted.
The ringing of the doorbell saved Cole from revisiting that awful time when he’d learned she’d betrayed him. The melodious chimes had launched into a second refrain by the time he made it to his feet.
He hobbled around the furniture, carefully avoiding the treacherous rugs. Excitement built inside Cole. Having the opportunity to be a father to Charlie was a dream come true.
Still, it had come at a high price.
Too high, Cole thought grimly. Janae and Ty had been like family—closer, really, than his own brother—and he felt their loss to the very core of his being.
He’d made it all the way to the edge of the foyer when the door opened and Meg and Charlie spilled inside, laughing and talking.
“I hope you don’t mind us not waiting.” Meg stomped on the rag rug, sending the snow on her boots flying across the marble floor. Tiny flakes of white ice crystals clung to her hair.
“I was c-c-cold,” Charlie said loudly, whipping off his Denver Broncos ski cap, his hair standing straight up. “I could see my breath and everything. If I’d waited much longer I’d ’ave froze to death.”
The little boy’s expression was so earnest, Cole swallowed the laughter welling in his throat.
“Couldn’t have that.” Cole gestured to the coat closet off to Meg’s left. “If you’d like to hang up your—”
“I’d better keep mine on.” She slanted a glance at Charlie. “We’ve got some bags. I should bring them in before my car is covered with snow.”
“There’s a garage door opener on the side table,” Cole said. “It’s yours while you’re here.”
A garage door opener. A simple tool, nothing more. Then why did it suddenly feel so…intimate?
If it felt intimate to Meg, she gave no indication. She simply grabbed the control, dropped it into her pocket then turned to Charlie, who was unbuttoning his jacket.
“Leave it on, sweetie,” she said to the boy. “I’m going to need help carrying the bags into the house.”
“I don’t want to carry any dumb old bags,” the boy whined. “I wanna see my room.”
“You can see your room,” Cole answered before Meg could respond, “after you help Aunt Meg.”
Charlie’s face took on a mulish look. He opened his