Tomorrow's Sun (Lost Sanctuary) - By Becky Melby Page 0,108
a week early.”
Emily dropped onto the top step. “Do the kids have to go back to him?”
“Not yet. There has to be a hearing first. He got home last night. Claims he’s a new man.” A gutteral laugh sent a chill down Emily’s back. “I told him what we were doing this week and he says if we go he’ll have us arrested for stealing his camper.”
“Is it his? Can he do that?”
Blaze released a long, controlled sigh. “Probably. The pop-up is ours, but I can’t find any proof. I paid cash for it maybe six years ago. Abby borrowed it for their last vacation and we just never got it back.”
“Forget camping then. We’ll stay in cheap motels. I’ll pay—”
“You have no idea how tempted I am to take those two and run. Just start driving and never turn back. If I thought I’d get away with it… But leaving for a week could hurt them. Even if all Ben ends up with is visitation rights, he’ll take it out on them.” Her voice reduced to a husky whisper.
“But you can’t cave in and let this guy—” Emily clamped her hand over her mouth. This was not her business. “Do the kids know?”
“Not yet. I haven’t told Jake yet either.”
Emily’s gut tightened. Counter with a positive. “Adam will be crushed.” It was the best she could do. At least it took her thoughts off Jake.
“I know.”
“Let me come and get him, okay? I’ll take him out for breakfast and we’ll go to the Rochester Cemetery or something. Lexi, too, if she’s interested.”
“Thank you. That would help.” Her voice cracked. “But first we have to empty the camper and take it back before…” Her sobs vibrated in Emily’s ear.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
He’d spent the night curled on one end of Topher’s couch. On it, not sleeping on it. Bart the Dog snored on the other end. The crooked clock on the shelf next to Topher’s beer can pyramid cuckooed five times. Jake threw a sock, hooking the ugly yellow bird before it could retreat and give one last annoying squawk.
“You look like something Bart dug out of last week’s trash.”
“Feel worse.”
“So? Who won? You or God?”
Jake laughed. If anyone understood wrestling with God, it was the shirtless guy scratching his belly with one hand, eating a breakfast burrito with the other. So far, Topher was winning his battle.
“He did. I think.” He sat up, grabbed a sock off the floor, and shoved his foot into it. “I don’t know. Maybe Emily won.”
Topher perched on the arm of the cracking vinyl recliner. “Don’t rush into this if you’re not sure.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to let her go.”
“But not having kids is huge, man. Adam and Lexi will be gone in what? Six years?”
As if they hadn’t dissected the subject to death last night. “I’m not okay with it.” He stood and rescued his other sock from the cuckoo bird. “But she’s not either. I’m not okay with Abby dying, but it is what it is. Sometimes life stinks. The fact is, I want her more than I’m disappointed about not having kids with her. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. It does.” Topher took the last bite and grinned with his mouth full. “Ah shink yer”—he swallowed and wiped the back of his hand across his face—“making the right decision.”
“How so?”
“You’ve never been like this with anyone else.” He held his hands up, pointed his fingers at his ears, and wiggled them. “You get all sparkly with this chick.”
“Sparkly?” Jake bent, grabbing the nearest weapon. A foam cheese-head hat left his hand and bounced off Topher’s forehead. Topher didn’t blink.
“Yeah. And besides”—Topher stood and walked to the doorway leading to the kitchen—“she’s a crazy good kisser.”
Jake’s voice bounced back at him from the bottom of the attic stairs. Emily wasn’t home, but her packed bag sat on the second floor landing. They hadn’t left yet. Her van was still hooked to the camper in his parent’s driveway with Adam’s “Missouri or Bust” sign in the window. Parked right where he’d seen it last night when he circled town a dozen times before crashing on Topher’s couch.
The bag looked like it weighed a ton. Had she gone in search of someone to help her get it down the stairs? He pulled out his phone and checked it then shoved it back in his pocket. He wouldn’t be top on her list of people to call for help. Hefting the strap onto