THE STREET FAIR was in full swing. With a break in the constant rain the past few days, the vendors, visitors and Tara were taking advantage of the opportunity to get outside.
“Hi, Tara,” rang out from several booths as she walked along, perusing the offerings at each one. She liked this town, these people, and on the whole they supported her business. So she tried to support them and theirs.
Today she’d brought a basket of Addie’s amazing cookies, each wrapped up so she could hand them out as thanks. She stopped at the tin sculptor’s booth first.
Dave was doing a brisk business today. He looked up as she approached and smiled. “I’ll deliver your sculpture the first of next week if you’d like.”
“That would be wonderful.” She’d already cleared a spot by the door for Mr. Squirrel. “I wanted to bring by a gift for you, to thank you for all your support.” She pulled out a package of cookies that she’d wrapped in a ribbon. His eyes lit up.
“Are those the famous Hawkins cookies I’ve heard about?” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“They are Addie’s specialty. Enjoy!” She set them on the table and he whisked them underneath with a flourish. She moved on to the next booth, smiling and anticipating the new addition to her decor.
She was inspecting a bracelet in the next booth, thinking it would be a great birthday gift for her sister Mandy, when she felt a tug on the hem of her shirt. Surprised, she looked down, thinking she’d caught it on something.
Instead she found herself staring into the wide eyes of the little girl who’d been in the diner with her babysitter a few nights ago. “Oh, hello.” She smiled and knelt to be at eye level with her.
“Can I have one of those?” the girl whispered, pointing at the basket of cookies. Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t return Tara’s smile. Tara noticed she didn’t have the purple dragon with her, and there were smudges of dirt on her face and hands.
“Of course, you can.” She reached for the cookie and watched the girl lick her lips. “Did you have breakfast, sweetie?” It was still early in the day.
The girl shook her head.
Tara looked around. “Are you with the babysitter?”
“No.” Her ponytails bobbed. “Mama’s at work for only a little bit. Her boss is there so I’m not ’posed to be there.” She was still staring at the cookies. “Mama told me to stay out of the way.”
And this was her staying out of the way? Granted, Haskins Corners was a small town and kids often ran around in the park and playground. And the townspeople kept an eye on each other’s kids like it was second nature. But little ones like this were seldom far from a watchful set of eyes. Tara looked around to see who was looking toward them. She saw no one.
“Where does your mom work?” Tara had half a mind to go have a chat with the woman. The girl must have sensed her intent, as she shook her head slowly and started to back away.
Tara frowned and lightly put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll gladly give you the cookie, but how about we get breakfast first? There are some really good waffles at one of the booths.” She didn’t dare take her away from the fair in case her mother came looking for her.
“Might serve her right,” Tara whispered to herself. To the girl she said, “Come on.” She extended her hand, just as she would to her nephew Tyler if he were here. The girl took it more readily than Tyler did now that he was a grown-up nine-year-old.
“Do you like bacon?” Tara asked, planning a complete meal.
“Ever’body likes bacon.” The girl rolled her big, brown eyes.
“Most people do, you’re right.” They reached the booth and Tara ordered them each a waffle with bacon and a cup of orange juice. She wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t want the girl to eat alone.
She led her to a picnic table near the playground and set their meal on the worn wood. “Hop up.” Tara lifted her, noticing as she did how thin and tiny she was.
“Do you need help cutting that?” Tara asked as she took her seat across from the girl.
“It’s big. Yes, please,” the girl whispered and Tara gladly took on the task, soon handing her the fork. It only took an instant for a bite of waffle to disappear.
“You know, I’m not sure I know your name.” Tara made conversation, hoping to learn something to help this sweet child. “I feel like I know you. I’d like us to be friends.” She nibbled on the crispy bacon. “I’m Tara.”
“I’m Brooke,” the girl said around another bite of waffle. “I’m gonna go to school soon. Mama says that’ll make her life easier.”
Tara bet it would. No need to find childcare if the school system was taking care of them. Tara had heard Addie talk about the number of kids who really struggled because their parents weren’t involved. The topic was definitely a hot button for her sister who taught in Austin.
“There you are.”
Tara looked up to see the babysitter from the other night stalking toward them. She stopped at the edge of the table, her hands on her hips. “What are you doin’?” she asked Brooke.
“Eating.” Brooke shoved another bite in, not having finished chewing the other one.
“Slow down, sweetie.” Tara reached over and patted her arm. “There’s no rush.”
“We gotta go. Your mom called, and she ain’t getting off like she thought. You’re coming with me.” Brooke’s face fell, and she slowly set down her fork, turning to climb down.
“Please, let her stay and at least finish her breakfast,” Tara said in what she hoped was an authoritative voice that the babysitter would follow. Looking closer now, Tara realized she was a kid herself, a teen with an attitude to match.
“Make it quick, kid.” She sat beside Brooke with a thud. “I’m meeting Jake in five minutes. He’s my boyfriend,” she told Tara.
Slowly, Brooke put her legs under the table and picked up her fork. She finished half the waffle and all the bacon before she spoke again. “I’m full.”
Tara smiled. “Good. You don’t have to eat any more.”
“Can we keep it so I can have some tomorrow?” Brooke looked at Tara, pleading in her eyes.
“Waffles don’t keep,” the babysitter offered. “It’ll be gross by tomorrow. Come on, we gotta go.” She stood, impatiently.
“Tell you what.” Tara leaned toward Brooke. “You know where I work, right?” Brook nodded. “I own the diner, so I can make you a new waffle anytime you like.”
“Anytime?”
“Yep.”
“Even for supper?”
“Even for supper. Anytime you’re hungry, you come see me. We’re friends, remember?”
“Come on.” The teen had already walked several yards away.
Brooke hastily climbed down, then instead of hurrying to catch up, she looked at Tara. “I like being your friend,” she said, then turned and ran behind the other girl. The crowd quickly swallowed them up, but not before Brooke looked back one last time and waved.
Tara tried not to worry about the little girl, but she did feel better now. It was a start.
* * *
BEING IN THE office was strange. The floor beneath Morgan’s feet didn’t move, and the view outside the window stayed the same.
“For gawdsake, sit down,” Jack grumbled from his desk. “You’re driving me nuts.”
Morgan planted his backside in the desk chair—that he’d had to dust off this morning—and stared at the computer monitor. He’d never taken any classes in accounting, but he understood it. He recognized the columns, knew what they were doing with all the numbers.
Except his brain wasn’t on work today. He fought the urge to get up and walk to the window again.
A short while later, the rumble of a truck’s engine drew his wandering attention. A black behemoth came slowly through the arched gate. Morgan stared. That rig. He’d recognize Dewey’s setup anywhere. The shiny black paint provided a vivid background for the bright orange flames on the sides. On the front grill of the Peterbilt, evil-looking teeth grinned maniacally at traffic. “What the—?”
“What?” Jack frowned, frustration on his brow. “Problem?”
“What’s Dewey Franklin doing here?”
“Probably showing up for work.”
“Since when?”
“Since last fall. He’s a good hauler.” Jack shook his head, then with a shrug, turned to his own computer. “He takes most of the high-risk jobs. Makes us a good buck.”
“I’ll just bet he does.” Morgan slammed his teeth together and stalked to the door. He didn’t care how much money the asshole made for them, he didn’t want him here. Dewey—and the world Dewey represented—had no place in this business.
“Where you going?” Jack called after him. When Morgan didn’t answer, and kept going, Jack must have thought—rightfully so—that there was trouble. “Hey!”
Morgan heard Jack’s footsteps behind him but didn’t stop.
“Wondered when you were gonna come back.” Dewey’s gravelly voice, laced with laughter, came around the open door of the truck’s cab.
Morgan stopped. Not for any other reason than the smidgen of sanity he’d developed over the years. “You’re not welcome here,” Morgan ground out between his tight teeth. “Keep moving.”
“Sorry, Morgan. No can do.” The big man lumbered out of the cab, his wide grin cutting across his face. “I got a contract.”
Morgan slowly pivoted on his heel and pinned Jack with one of his nastiest glares.
Jack didn’t flinch. “He’s right.”
Frustration bubbled inside Morgan. First, he’d lost contact with his men. Now, he’d apparently also lost complete say in who even worked for them.
It was his own damned fault. Turning, Morgan decided the office might be a better place for him. He needed to learn his own business from square one, it seemed.
“Hey, Morgan,” Dewey called.
When Morgan turned around to look at him, Dewey did a few punches in the air, his battered fists flying and missing Morgan’s chin—barely. “Thought maybe you were going back on the circuit.” There was an ornery glint in Dewey’s eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here, Dewey?” Morgan stepped closer, pushing into the man’s personal space. “I thought you were here to work.” He looked pointedly at Jack again, too.
“Ah, come on, man. You know why I’m here. Money. Ain’t that why we do anything?” He nudged Morgan with a hard elbow. “Nice gig you got here. Almost said somethin’ when I saw you in Haskins Corners the other day.” His grin grew wider, if that was possible.
Haskins Corners immediately brought Tara’s image to mind. What was Dewey doing there? Morgan frowned. “Keepin’ tabs on me?” Not even Jack knew Morgan’s actions with any regularity.
“Ah, lighten up.” There was an edge to Dewey’s voice.
Morgan stared at Dewey. The man hadn’t changed in the—what?—five years since their paths had crossed. “You been fighting this whole time?” He almost couldn’t believe anyone would take the abuse that long.
“Yeah, some. Though I do a lot of other stuff nowadays.” The beefy trucker puffed up his chest. “I do some managing.”
Managing? What the...? “Like who?” As Dewey talked about names and faces Morgan had left behind when he’d ditched living dangerously, it dawned on him that Dewey might be just the break he’d been looking for. Had Sylvie left it all behind, as well? Or not? The questions he’d had a couple days ago, when he’d been headed to the bars in Haskins Corners but got distracted by Tara, returned. Was Sylvie still haunting the back roads of the fights? That had been where he’d first met her.
Morgan leaned against the warm metal of the truck’s frame. Casual. Seemingly uncaring, as his heart pounded in his chest. “You seen anyone else from back in the day?”
“Back in the day?” Dewey cackled. “You act like it’s school. Though that last one, I guess you got a heck of a schooling.”
Morgan’s joints still ached from that beating. Mack had been one of the roughest, meanest fighters in the ring. No mercy in that man’s eyes. No compromise in his soul.
“Mack still fighting?”
Another laugh. “Hell, no. He went even further the next fight. Near killed Jacob. No one wanted that. Tate called the authorities. Shoulda seen everyone scrambling to get out before the cops got there. Hauled all of ’em away. Tate’s got a good attorney, but Mack’s ass is in the state pen for a mighty long time.” Dewey’s voice faded, and he stared into the blue sky. “Least, I hope he’s still there. I might retire if he ever comes back.”
Morgan thought that was probably a good idea for them all.
“’Course you, that’s a whole ’nother story. You got potential, Morgan. I’d back you.”
That almost surprised Morgan. He hadn’t fought in over five years. He wasn’t going to start now. Not unless... The idea of going back to that life, even temporarily, left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Now, Morgan—” Jack stepped forward, almost in between him and Dewey. “You quit all that for a reason.”
Morgan had nearly forgotten Jack was there. “I know.” He wasn’t going to explain now what he was thinking to Jack. Not in front of Dewey. “Just wonderin’ about some of the people I used to know.” He turned to Dewey. “There still a horde of followers?”
“Followers? You mean the women?” He elbowed Morgan again. “You lookin’ for some action, my friend? I can get you some of that, too. Though I saw that little gal you’re so hot on in Haskins Corners last week.”
“Who?” he asked cautiously, not wanting Dewey to know about Tara if he didn’t already. Sylvie on the other hand... “You’ve seen Sylvie?”
Dewey’s laugh was nearly a cackle. “She’s kinda tough to miss. You lose her?”
Morgan nearly went after the man and his insinuation right there in the yard. He’d fought Dewey a few times, enough to know it wasn’t an easy slam dunk to beat the man. But Morgan hadn’t been thinking straight for weeks. Why start now?
When Morgan leaned in closer, Dewey lifted his hands in the sign of surrender. “I’m just sayin’, I got an in, man.” Dewey grew quiet. “What’s the point if you’re not gonna step into a ring?” He turned away, pulling paperwork out. “I’d like to get some of my money back, but I ain’t gonna beg. You change your mind, your brother knows how to reach me.”
“You know where Sylvie is?” Morgan asked, his voice low and menacing.
“Maybe. You fight. Maybe I’ll get the information for you. I can get you in next weekend.”
Was this the last puzzle piece? Was he finally going to find Sylvie—and Brooke? Morgan stepped into Dewey’s personal space, real close, real tight. “Prove to me you know where she’s at, and you bet your ass I’ll fight.” Morgan stalked away, glaring at Jack, who, slack-jawed, stared at him. “I’m taking lunch,” he told Jack and headed to his pickup. His concentration was shot. Dread threatened to overwhelm the flicker of hope he felt.
The old Chevy was as small a vehicle as he could stand to drive after sitting in the big rig for so long. He revved the engine and took off through the lot like a bat out of hell. He didn’t have to crank the radio. It was already on full blast, heavy guitars blaring in the close confines of the cab.
Driving past Dewey, Morgan thought about flipping the guy off but knew Jack wouldn’t like it. And whether Morgan liked it or not, this was Jack’s haven now. Morgan felt as out of place in the office as ever.
* * *
TARA STARED AT her brother. DJ had come in for lunch again, and she couldn’t help wondering what was going on. It was Saturday and Tammie was home. Surely he’d want to spend time with his wife instead of his sister.
“What?” he asked around the bite of his thick burger.
Tara crossed her arms and tried to judge his mood. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you at home with Tammie and Tyler?” Was there trouble in their new marriage?
DJ looked at his plate and slowly dragged a fry through the ketchup. “Tyler’s at a fair at the school with his buddy. And uh, well, Tammie’s, uh, having a difficult time right now.”
“And you left her alone? DJ—”
“Now hold on.” He lifted a hand. He actually looked angry.
She remembered the dark, withdrawn man he’d been when he’d first come home from Afghanistan. It hurt to see that man return.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then you’d better start explaining.”
DJ took his time eating the rest of his food. She tried to wait patiently, cleaning the counters around him.
Finally, he pushed his empty plate away and wiped the grease from his lips with the napkin. Tossing it on top of the plate, he met her gaze.
What she saw in his eyes wasn’t anger or sorrow or pain, but fear and happiness all mixed up. What the heck?
“Tammie sent me here because she knows I’m dying for a good burger.” He tucked his hands under his arms, leaning back in the chair. “But whenever I eat one around her now, she gets nauseous.”
That didn’t make sense. Tammie loved burgers. She came in sometimes specifically for one of Tara’s special ones. “I don’t—” She stared at the shit-eating grin on her brother’s face.
Nausea. No. “Is she? Are we going to have—” Another little Hawkins to spoil? “Really?”
DJ laughed and nodded. “She’s pregnant.” The wonder in his voice nearly overshadowed the tinge of worry in his eyes. “But she’s having a rough time.” Now the happiness faded.
“Oh, dear. Is everything okay? No problems?” The idea of anyone suffering bothered her, especially someone she cared about, like her sister-in-law.
“She says she went through this when she was carrying Tyler.” Guilt washed over his face. “I hate thinking of her going through all this alone,” he said softly.
Was that what was bothering him? “You can’t change the past.” He’d struggled with Tammie not telling him about Tyler’s existence years ago, but they’d gotten past that and had a great life. “You can’t let it mess up what you’ve got now.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “But, dear Lord, having a baby scares the crap out of me.”
This soldier—who’d deployed to Afghanistan, who’d been injured there and spent months in the hospital fighting to learn to walk again—was afraid of a little, tiny baby?
Tara stared at her big brother and did what any good, red-blooded little sister would do. She laughed. “Really?”
At his glare, she sobered—incredulous. “You’re serious. Oh, DJ.” She walked around the counter and plopped down next to him. “I’m sorry.” She still felt that ornery little-sister urge to tease him but squashed it into oblivion as his hand clenched into a frustrated fist. “I guess...I’m surprised. You’re such a great dad to Tyler.”
The anguish in his eyes hurt her. “I didn’t even know he existed until he was eight.”
“I guess...” It was hard to remember that. The boy had become such a big part of their lives. “It’s hard to even remember what it was like without him around.”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I love being his dad. But I don’t know what to do with a baby. And what if it’s a...a girl?”
This time her laughter was warm. “You can handle it. You helped with me, remember? I’m sure Tammie was just as scared when she had Ty. She’ll show you. You can do this.”
“Glad you think so.”
“I do.” Tara went back to work. “You didn’t screw me up too badly.” She laughed again and this time he joined her.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Okay, all bets are off now.” She swatted him with a towel.
“Does that mean I don’t get any pie?” He looked hopeful now, more like the man she was used to.
She rolled her eyes. “Sucker,” she mumbled to herself and grabbed a plate. “Berry or apple?”
“One of each? I’m eating for two now.”
“Oh, stop it!”
“Make the apple to go. I’ll see if Tammie can keep that down.”
Tara smiled, pleased for her brother. And herself. She loved being an aunt to Mandy’s little Lucas and DJ’s Tyler. A girl, all sweet and soft, might be nice to have around. The idea of how a baby girl would wrap DJ around her little finger made Tara smile.
“If it’s a girl, you are so in trouble,” she teased, handing him the plate. “What does Tyler think?”
DJ’s full-throated laughter sounded good. “We haven’t told him yet. We’re going to tonight. I don’t think he’ll want a little sister.” DJ winked at her and focused on his pie.
Another little girl’s face floated through Tara’s mind. The one who’d been in the diner the other night. Sadness for the girl took the edge off her happiness.
She’d said she didn’t know where her dad was. Did she have an aunt or uncles who would want her if her parents didn’t? What about grandparents?
“What’s the matter?” DJ stood, gathering the dirty dishes and putting them in the bus tub. Addie would be proud.
“Nothing.” Tara didn’t look up at him, focusing instead on the collection of recipe cards on the counter. They were the ones Addie had given her at Mom’s house.
“Missing Mom?” he whispered.
“A little. These help, actually.”
“Looking for something specific?” He looked over her shoulder. “Oh, you should make this one.” He tapped a stained card. “Mom’s fruit salad was the best.”
“It was good. Maybe.” She faced him. “Do you ever remember Mom making those cookies Addie makes?”
“Nope.” He stared at her. “That’s bugging you, isn’t it?” He looked almost ready to smile, then forced his lips not to. “Why is it so hard to believe she made it up?”
“Just...’cause.” She gathered the cards, leaving the fruit salad on top. Might be a good suggestion to add to the menu.
“Why do you even care? You want to add it to the menu or something?”
“I’ve thought about it.” The idea of cookies reminded Tara of the little girl again. Was she getting food? Attention? Her hair combed?
“You’re worrying about something more than cookies.”
“Not really. Here.” She grabbed the take-out container. “Take your wife her pie.”
“That’s not going to get you off the hook.” He took the container. “And if you’re that interested in having the cookies here, ask Addie. I’ll bet she’d share.”
“Maybe.” Tara wasn’t nearly as convinced Addie would share. Their older sister—the control freak of all control freaks—would have to think it was her idea. And Tara hadn’t been able to pull that off with Addie in...well, ever.
* * *
CALMER NOW, MORGAN settled at his desk, determined to get his work done. He would succeed at this, even if it killed him.
Jack was silent for most of the afternoon, typing away at his computer as if Morgan wasn’t even there. He barely bothered to look over.
“Okay, I’m sorry I blew my stack with Dewey.”
“Yeah, that was pretty stupid.” Jack still didn’t look away from his computer, typing for some time. Finally, the clock hit 5:00 p.m. and Jack started clearing off his desk and shutting his computer down.
“You got plans tonight?” Morgan asked. Jack seldom didn’t have plans.
“Nothing tonight. Want to grab dinner? Catch up?”
“Sure.” Morgan wasn’t cleaning his desk. He didn’t have to. He knew exactly where everything was. “What do you have in mind?” He didn’t know of any diners nearby with amazing food and a pretty owner.
“Mexican sounds good.” Jack grabbed his jacket. “I’ll drive.”
“What’s with you?” Jack never volunteered to drive.
He didn’t respond until they’d reached his SUV and Jack had climbed behind the wheel. He hit the brakes at the stop sign on the edge of the lot. “So.” Jack looked both ways and slowly edged out into traffic. “You going to fight again?”
Morgan didn’t look over. “Not if I can help it.”
“Damn it, Morgan. You heard Dewey say that guy who hurt you so badly nearly killed someone else.”
“He’s in jail.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else out there just as bad, or worse.”
They sat at the next red light in silence. Jack broke the quiet first. “I remember what you came home like. I—” His voice faded. “Don’t do this.”
There weren’t many things Jack had asked Morgan for. Ever. As kids there hadn’t been enough of anything, except whiskey for Dad. It wasn’t much different now that they were adults. Torn, he looked for a response. “Do you think I want to?”
“No.” Jack sighed. “There have to be other options.”
“Like what?” Morgan’s anger returned. “We’ve done what for a year, Jack? Chased shadows, that’s what.” His frustration at not finding Sylvie or Brooke nearly overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes, wishing his brother had turned on the music.
They drove another couple blocks, the only sound the hum of the engine. “I met someone,” Morgan admitted.
Jack didn’t say anything, but the look he threw Morgan was full of surprise.
“It’s time to end this. If the only price I have to pay to get my life back is a few bruises—I’m in.” Morgan watched the city pass by, and Dewey’s words came to him. Realization dawned. Dewey had been in Haskins Corners last week. He’d said he could get Morgan a spot this weekend.
Morgan knew where the fight was going to be. “Turn around. Now!”
“Why? I’m hungry.”
Dinner was going to wait. “Here’s the deal. What are the odds you get two loads to a small place like Haskins Corners?”
Jack frowned. “Slim. Possible, but slim. I’d bundle them.”
“Yeah. So did Dewey have a load last week there, same time as me?”
He shook his head.
“We need to get back to the yard. I need to talk to Dewey.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “He’s already gone. Loaded up an hour ago.”
“Where’s he headed?”
“I’d have to look on the manifest. I did fifteen loads today. I can’t remember who got which one.”
“That’s at the office?”
“Yeah. We could call him.”
“He ain’t going to talk on the phone. He only told me what he did to taunt me.”
“Yeah.” Jack grinned. “He did get to you.” At Morgan’s glare, the grin disappeared from Jack’s face. Instead of saying anything more, Jack pulled a smooth U-turn. “You owe me a pizza. A big one. Thick crust. The Works from Giovanni’s.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
The buildings whizzed by as Jack drove the way they’d come. “Who is she?” Jack asked softly.
“Tara?”
“That her name?”
“Yeah.” Morgan pictured her in his mind, missing her more than he’d ever missed Sylvie. “I met her in Haskins Corners. I’m not going into details now, but—” He wasn’t sure how to begin to explain. “But I’m not stupid. I can’t get involved with her, or anyone, until I get Brooke back. Sylvie is screwing up enough for the both of us.”
“How does this Tara feel about your situation?”
“She doesn’t know.” He speared Jack with a glare. “She’s a good woman. Runs her own business. She’s an amazing chef. She doesn’t need any of my garbage messin’ up her world.”
Jack rolled his eyes but he didn’t say anything. For once, Morgan didn’t push him. They didn’t have time.
The yard was dark except for the security lights that spilled pools of white light around the lot. Only two trucks were parked inside the chain-link-and-razor-wire fence. Jack’s seldom-used white hauler and Morgan’s blue baby. The rest of the team was on the road. Earning the money.
The gates pulled open once Jack hit the remote. He parked, then hustled up the steps into the office. “Where is it?” Morgan asked as he flipped the light switch.
“Let me get it. You’ll make a mess of my filing system.”
“Thought it would be on the computer.”
“It is. But I keep a paper backup.”
“And you say I’m the old-fashioned one?”
“Funny.” Jack pulled open the second drawer of the file cabinet and lifted out a binder. He set it on the desk and flipped pages. “Here it is.” He read silently, Morgan trying to read over his shoulder.
“Where’s he at?”
“Right now, between here and Austin. He’s heading to Rose Creek.”
“That’s just past Haskins Corners. Is he going through there?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
They looked at each other. “I’m going. Now.”
Jack filed the book again, pausing before he faced Morgan. “Why? Are you going after Sylvie or to see this Tara?”
Morgan wanted to answer his brother honestly. They’d always been that way with each other, a bargain they’d made when they were kids in reaction to their father’s endless lies. “I don’t know.” Morgan stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Both?”
“You taking the rig?”
“Yeah. Sylvie would know the pickup.”
“Fair enough.” Jack nodded. “I don’t have a load, but if you can get Brooke, it’s worth it.”
“Thanks, bro.” Morgan headed to the door. “If you get me one on the way back, I’ll gladly take it.” Morgan stepped out into the night, heading toward his truck.
“Hey, order my pizza,” Jack called.
“Get whatever you want. On my account.” Morgan jogged toward his truck.
“You have an account at the pizza joint?”
“Yeah. How do you think I keep my girlish figure?”
Jack’s laughter faded as Morgan pulled open the door to his rig and climbed in.