Page 81 of Lost and Found

Wes opened the door, and Matt flew outside. “Hold up. Wait for your mom.” He pressed the keypad. The electronic tumblers fell into place after she walked out. Wes caught her arm and lowered his voice. “Should I not tell him what to do? What are the ground rules?”

“Use your common sense.”

He paused. “All right. Sounds like a fair rule.”

“Raising a kid takes a village. I trust you.”

Wes placed his palm between her shoulder blades and guided her toward the sidewalk. She wanted to lean into his touch, to breathe him in and pretend this was their real life. But all she could do was bask in the warmth of his hand as it slid to the small of her back and fell away.

They walked side by side. Their hands touched. Their knuckles grazed like in New Jersey and at the splash park. Matt ran back to them, no longer intimidated by Wes, their muscled bodyguard. So much had changed since they first met in the kitchen.

“What’s up, bud?” Wes asked.

“How far is it from here?”

“Down the street a few blocks.”

“We go straight?”

“Mostly. I’ll tell you when we turn, but I think you’ll be able to tell.”

Matt vibrated with energy from sitting in the car too long. “Can I run ahead?”

Wes lifted his hands and volleyed the request to Bailey.

She nodded. “You know the rules. Don’t get too far ahead.”

Matt sprinted away, stopped at every driveway, snapped his head back and forth, then sprinted again.

Wes chuckled. “I guess the rules say to watch for cars backing in and out of driveways.”

“Gee. How could you tell?”

Matt stopped and sprinted, stopped and sprinted.

“We’ve never lived on a block with the houses this close together. I think he’s having a blast.”

The houses on Magnolia Boulevard were similar enough to match, but each had personality. Some yards were filled with milkweed and black-eyed Susans. Others had the crisscross mow marks of a perfectly manicured lawn. Some had white picket fences. Others had pink-and-purple flowering mulch beds. It all felt like a storybook small town. “I’ve never lived anywhere that has an actual Main Street with little stores and shops.”

“Granite Creek is one of a kind. Not too far from big cities and the mountains, far enough away from the rat race.”

“I can see why you like it.”

“It’s more than you can see. It’s friends and a good job. Great job, actually. If I ever get bored, work sends me packing, and before I know it, I’m ready for home again. It works.”

They reached the stop sign that Matt waited at, and with her permission, he bolted across the street and restarted his sprint-stop progress down the next block. They crossed two more blocks until Magnolia intersected with Main.

“Which way?” Matt called over his shoulder.

“Wait for us,” she called.

“You’re a good mom. You know that?”

Warmth coursed through her. “I try. I don’t always get it right, and when I mess up, I’ll own up. But really, he’s a great kid.” She glanced up at Wes, unsure what to make of the out-of-nowhere compliment and the way it twisted her insides. He was lost in thought. Melancholy tinged his expression. “Is everything okay?”

“My parents would rather cut off their arm with a rusty salad knife than admit they were ever wrong.”

She had friends who grew up with parents like that. It sounded hard. “I’m sorry.”