The Soldier And The Single Mom

Something primal raised the hairs on the back of Buck’s neck, and he gave Dion a narrow stare. “You like her, don’t you?”

They weren’t exactly friends. Dion had pulled Buck out of a couple of fights in his role as a cop, when Buck was drinking. Nowadays, Dion was more likely to evangelize him, which was almost worse. But at least it meant that Dion didn’t think he was unredeemable, like so many in town did.

Maybe they had the beginnings of a friendship, but it wasn’t enough to quell Buck’s irrational twinge of jealousy at the thought of Dion liking Gina.

Dion’s eyebrows came together. “What’re you talking about, man? I don’t even know her. I just see a Christian duty, and a judicial one, to watch out for her. And to watch her. Asking for your help as a citizen.”

Buck chuckled, feeling relieved. “That’s a first. You asking me to help you on the right side of the law.”

“People change.” Dion gave him a level stare. “Remember that, my man. People change.”

* * *

Buck pondered that thought all the way home, and it gave him a spring to his step as he trotted up the guesthouse stairs, trying to stay ahead of the rain that was starting to fall. People changed. Maybe even him.

Just before he touched the door handle, he saw a movement on the far side of the porch.

Gina. Rocking gently on the porch swing, pulling a blanket over her shoulder, probably to shield Bobby from the sound of Buck’s footsteps and the flash of lightning.

He walked quietly toward them, mindful of what Dion had said. He wanted to watch how she handled Bobby with Dion’s questions in mind. If Gina was in trouble, he wanted to help her somehow. He couldn’t push her away, no matter how disturbing it was to be around her. She could be in real danger.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his concerns out of his tone. “You made it back okay? Vehicle’s running well?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Lacey said we can stay one more night. Only one, though. Then we have to be on our way.” She sounded sad.

“Do you...want to stay more?”

She adjusted Bobby with a tender care and private, loving smile. Then she looked out at the rainy twilight. “I like it here, and it feels safe. Like a good place to get my bearings.”

“That’s the town’s history and reputation,” he said. “Rescue River’s always opened its arms to those in need.”

“It feels welcoming.” She shot him a glance. “Well, mostly.”

Buck decided to be honest. “I feel for your situation, but...” He trailed off as she adjusted Bobby again, and he realized exactly what she was doing.

She was nursing him.

He stood up quickly. “Whoa, I’m sorry to intrude. I didn’t realize...”

“It’s okay,” she said, chuckling. “It’s a natural thing and I know how to cover up. I’ve fed Bobby in all kinds of places.”

“That’s...pretty cool.” He’d never been one of those guys who was turned off by nursing or pregnancy or childbirth. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d never loved Ivana more, never felt closer to her, than when she was in the height and glory of womanhood, pregnant with his child or feeding little Mia from her own body. The whole thing amazed him. God’s creativity in action.

Rain was pounding hard now, bringing with it a fresh, clean-washed smell and cooler air.

He felt himself looking at Gina in a new light. His heart warmed toward her in a visceral way: that ancient male reaction to a mother and child in need. Yes, having her here was disturbing, but he thought he could handle it, at least for a short time.

And after all, he wouldn’t be here for long himself. He was putting every penny he had into making restitution, repaying money he’d borrowed, getting back on his feet. Living here with Lacey rent-free in exchange for his renovation work. He didn’t have the means to leave town, not yet, but he would soon.

“I like it here, Buck,” Gina said. “I think God may have sent me and Bobby here for a reason. I’m thinking, maybe, I’d like to stay.”

His ambivalence must have shown on his face, because she cocked her head to one side and spoke. “That bothers you, doesn’t it? How come? Is it about my resemblance to your wife?”

“Somewhat.” Actually, he was starting to wonder how he’d ever mistaken her for Ivana. She had a plucky strength and determination, a set to her chin, a way of holding herself that were completely her own. Still, he had questions.

She frowned and looked down at Bobby, who was starting to show signs of being done nursing. She turned a little away and wiped his mouth.

“Want me to burp him?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Can you?”

“Sure.” He leaned down and picked up the baby boy and held him against his shoulder. He was sturdier than Mia had been. Gina had mentioned that Bobby was ten months. Mia had made it only eight.

But propping a baby with one hand, flipping the burp cloth over his shoulder, patting the baby’s back, that all came right back to him. Like riding a bike. You didn’t forget.

He pulled Bobby a little closer, breathing him in, cherishing the feel of the baby, pretending he was Mia. Pretending his little daughter was still alive and well and happy. That he hadn’t driven Ivana from their home in a moment of anger and desperation.

If only none of it had happened.

“Look,” she said, “I’m sorry if I bring up memories for you. Maybe I’ll get on my feet quickly and be able to get out of here. But meanwhile...”

“Meanwhile what?” He was holding her baby in the rainy twilight, looking at her and finding her beautiful, and feeling like he might be stepping into the biggest mess of his life.

And then, as he adjusted the sweet little bundle in his arms, Bobby’s pajama leg came up and he saw it.

A bruise the size of a beer coaster. Or a man’s fist.

“If it were just me, I’d leave for your sake,” she said. “But this looks like the perfect safe place for Bobby, and I have to put him first.”

He concealed his reaction to the bruise and stroked the baby’s downy hair, his heart pounding. “Of course you do.”

“But I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about it. Your sister’s the one who’s determined to get rid of me.” She was looking up at him with troubled eyes as the wind blew a strand of hair in front of her face. “I don’t know what to do.”

He could see that it cost her to admit that, to ask for advice. She’d do it, though, for her son. He could already tell she was that kind of woman.

He didn’t think she could possibly have injured Bobby, which meant that someone else had done it. Someone she was running from?

And if so, what right did he have to push her away? Especially if it resulted in this little one being hurt again?

He patted Bobby’s back until a loud burp made them both laugh. Then he sat down in the rocker across from the porch swing, still holding Bobby.

“Want to tell me about Bobby’s father?”

She drew in a breath and let it out again, slowly, seeming to consider. Finally, she spoke. “Hank was...smart and handsome. And rich.”

He smiled. “Bodes well for Bobby.”

“Yes. I just hope he doesn’t inherit a couple of the other genes.”

“Like?”

“Like the addiction-prone one.”

“Oh.” Buck looked away, feeling ashamed. Addiction was considered genetic by some, but more of a character flaw by most. And it was a flaw he shared. “Did your husband ever do AA or anything like that?”

“He was more into cocaine,” she said, “but sure, he did NA. Plenty of times.”

“It never took?” That was discouraging. “You’re talking about him in the past tense. Is he dead?”

“He died not long after Bobby was born. Ski accident.”

“Drugs?”

She nodded. “Yes. He was high, skiing one of the most dangerous double black diamond slopes in California. He didn’t have a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” Why did a guy do drugs when he had a wife and baby who needed him?

Then again, why did any addict do what he did?

“So that’s not who you’re running from.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s...my in-laws.”

“Your husband’s family? What’s the problem there?”

She sighed. “Abuse, if you must know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Buck’s pulse rate shot up. There it was. He’d like to get his hands on those people. “If they abused you or Bobby, they should go to prison.”

“They should, but they won’t,” she said with complete certainty.

“They’re that powerful?”

“They’re that powerful.”

The sky was black velvet now, the air cooling more. She huddled under the blanket she’d been using as a nursing cover. She looked so pretty. So vulnerable. So in need of protection.

As was the little baby now sleeping in his arms.

He wasn’t going to let anything happen between him and Gina, no way, but he had to let her stay. Dion had asked him to, and he had a lot to report to the police chief. And maybe, just maybe, it was a way for him to get over Ivana, move on. Maybe this was part of the restitution he was trying to practice in his recovery.

He was to make amends for wrongs he had done. Well, he was doing that with bar owners around town, with friends he’d borrowed from. With Lacey, who’d had to put up with a lot from him during his two-year drinking spree.

But the people he’d wronged the most were dead.

Could he make restitution through Gina and Bobby? Give something to them, and that way right the balance with his wife and child, who were beyond earthly help?

And once he’d made his restitution and saved up a little money, he’d leave. Leave, with a clean slate, and start over somewhere where nobody knew his past. It was what he wanted. All he wanted. All he was working for.

The wind blew the cool farm air toward the house, fragrant with fresh-plowed earth. Crickets sang out in a chorus. Streetlights flickered on down the block, where the shops were.

He slid one hand away from the baby and into his pocket where he carried his recovery coin. Six months sober. He could handle this new challenge.

“I’ll talk to Lacey,” he said gruffly. “Try to get her to let you stay awhile. And you can work on the renovation with me.”

Chapter Four

Later that night, Gina had just closed her eyes when her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, not wanting to risk waking Bobby.

When she saw it was her friend Haley, back in California, she sat upright. “Hang on,” she whispered and slipped a robe over her lightweight tank top and shorts.

Grabbing her phone, she hurried down to the small alcove on the landing of the stairs. It was one of the few public areas in the guesthouse that was finished, with lace curtains and a braided rug. She settled into the window seat, pulled her feet up underneath her and leaned back against comfortable cushions. She could see the half-open door of her room at the top of the stairs, so she’d notice if Bobby stirred.

“Okay, I can talk,” she said quietly. “How are you? I miss you so much!” Ever since she and Haley had shared a room on the maternity floor, their babies born within hours of one another, they’d been close friends. Haley was the only person in whom Gina had confided about her plans to leave town.

“I miss you, too, but that’s not why I called.”

“Are the dogs okay?”

Haley laughed. “They’re bad, and spoiled, but you know I love them. No, that’s not the problem.”

“Did you find anything out?” She was hoping, though not expecting, that Haley had figured out a way she could gain access to some of the money she should have inherited as Hank’s widow.

“It’s not good news.” Haley cleared her throat and went into business mode, not a problem for her since she worked in a bank. “I’ve been nosing around, and it sounds like assets in probate can be tangled up for a year, eighteen months if the estate is complicated.”

“Which it is.” Hank’s parents, seeing the mess Hank had made of his life after Bobby was born, had put most of his inheritance in trust. Gina even suspected that they’d gotten Hank to sign some CDs over to them when he was high.

“I talked to my manager—in confidence, didn’t identify you—and she said that because there wasn’t a will, there’s no way around this long process. I’m so mad Hank didn’t protect you and Bobby!”

“I know.” Gina’s chest ached, as it always did when she thought of Hank. He’d been so much fun when they’d first met; he’d swept her off her feet, had loved her madly. In the first two years of their marriage she’d realized his partying went further than it should—sometimes much further—but they’d still had a base of love and care for each other.

Bobby’s arrival had changed everything. The responsibility of fatherhood had overwhelmed Hank, and Gina, sleep deprived and cranky, hadn’t been as understanding as before. He’d gone off the deep end, dug into his bad habits and made the leap from recreational drug user to addict.

“He wasn’t thinking straight,” she said to Haley and left it at that.

“The good news is, within a few years, when it’s all straightened out, you and Bobby should be okay.” Haley’s voice didn’t sound all that reassuring, though.

“It sounds like there’s a but in there somewhere.”

“There is.” Haley’s voice sounded shaky. “Gina, there’s a big problem.”

“What? Tell me.” Gina’s heart felt like a stone. She wanted to start a new life, for herself but even more, for Bobby. But right now, it seemed like she’d never get free.

“It’s your in-laws. When I saw Hank’s cousin this morning, she told me they’re going to report your car as stolen.”

“What?” From the downstairs kitchen, Gina heard what sounded like an argument and lowered her voice. “That car’s mine! Hank gave it to me!”

“But is the title in your name?”

Gina squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out this unwelcome news. “No. It was in Hank’s name.”

“And since the estate’s stuck in probate...”

Gina leaned her head back against the window, staring up at the ceiling. If they’d reported the car stolen, she was essentially a common criminal.

“Gina? Honey?”

Gina blew out a breath. “I’ll be tracked down for sure, then, because the police department here has my vehicle information. What am I going to do?” Her voice broke on the last couple of words, and she swallowed hard, determined to maintain control.

“I’ve already thought about that. You’ve got to give it back, that’s all.”

“Give it back? When I’m here and they’re in California?”

“Yep, and I’ve figured out how. You use one of those driving services. They load your vehicle on a truck and drive it across the country. It’s done all the time.”

Gina was still wrapping her mind around the facts: that her car wasn’t her car, and that she was a wanted criminal. “It’s got to be expensive,” she said finally. “I’m almost out of money.”

“Didn’t you say you had a debit card?”

She did. “But it’s not safe to use it.” It wasn’t as if there was a lot of money in the old joint account—Hank had drained most of it away in the months before his death—but there was something. Something for Bobby’s future, if they could make it through the first couple of months.

Haley sighed audibly. “No. No, it’s not safe, especially now that you’re a wanted person. The police could track you to where you are.”

Gina felt a sharp rush of shame that she had no savings of her own. If only she hadn’t acquiesced to staying home with Bobby... She glanced up toward her room. No, she couldn’t regret that decision. They’d both agreed that since they had the means, it would be best for her to spend Bobby’s early years at home with him.

She shoved open the window, letting the rain-soaked breeze soothe her hot face.

“We’ve got to hire you a transportation service, have you send back the car. The way I see it, you don’t have a choice.” Haley cleared her throat. “I talked to Josh. We...we can pay for it.”

“No.” Gina couldn’t let her friend do that. She and her husband had tons of student debt and no family money. Although they both worked, the high cost of living in their part of the state made it so that they barely scraped by every month.

And yet Haley was right. Staying out of trouble with the law was a bigger priority even than a financial safety net.

“Look, what if I mail you my ATM card? That way you can take the money out of my account, and if it’s traced, it’ll be local, not here.” Gina couldn’t believe how quickly she was able to flip into criminal mode when it was Bobby’s safety in question. “If I do that, can you set it up for me? Do we just send the SUV to them? I’m afraid they’ll find out where it came from and track us down.”

“Nope. Overnight the card to me, and I’ll get it all set up right away. As soon as the SUV arrives, I’ll drive it over to your in-laws’ place and leave it.”

“How? In the middle of the night?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll figure out some explanation.” She paused. “I really want this to work for you, Gina. I miss you, but you did the right thing. Bobby comes first.”

“Thank you so much. You’re an amazing friend.” Her throat tight, she chatted for a couple more minutes and then ended the call.

How was she going to manage without a vehicle? And yet, what choice did she have?

She looked out the window at the streetlights of Rescue River. The main street glistened with today’s rain. She could see the market, the diner, the library.

She could see them, which meant she could walk to them. She looked up at the stars. “You knew what You were doing when You put me here, Father,” she murmured in a low voice.

She let out a sigh and slid her feet down to the floor...only to shriek at the sight of a large figure standing a couple of steps down from the landing. When she recognized Buck, her heart rate settled a little.

He flicked on the hall light. “Sorry to startle you. I was talking to Lacey about your situation. Coming upstairs to my room.” Unnecessarily, he gestured toward the upper floor. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

She remembered the raised voices she’d heard. “Let me guess,” she said. “Your talk with Lacey didn’t go well.”

“I’m afraid not.” He sat on the other end of the curved window seat, his face barely visible in the glow of a streetlight. “She’s just not comfortable having you here. She said you could stay for a couple more days, through Monday, Tuesday if you really need to, but that’s all.”

The weight of her responsibilities pressed down on Gina. She couldn’t stay, then, not unless she found another job. But she couldn’t go, not with her transportation being taken out from under her.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He reached out a hand and patted her shoulder.

Surely he meant it as a friendly touch, but to Gina, the warmth of his large hand made her want to hurl herself into his arms. He seemed so strong and competent and kind.

And she couldn’t give in to that desire to be rescued. “Thanks for trying. With God’s help, I’ll figure out something.”

Rather than nodding and moving away, he gave her shoulder another pat and looked into her eyes. “When I met you, I thought you were one of those ladies who lunch, someone who never had a problem. But that’s far from the truth, isn’t it?”

“Miles away.” She couldn’t handle the compassion in his eyes, but she couldn’t look away, either.

“If I wasn’t knee-deep in problems of my own, problems of my own creation, I’d try to help you more.” He squeezed her shoulder once and then pulled his hand away.

“Thanks.” She actually believed him.

“One thing I can offer,” he said, “is an invitation to church tomorrow. Nine o’clock. It’s a great community church, the one we stopped by before, and who knows, maybe someone is hiring or can put you up.” He sounded doubtful. And she couldn’t tell whether he wanted her to stay or not. Probably not.

He was offering her solace, and shamefully, church didn’t seem like a lot of help right now. But it was what she had, and she knew, intellectually at least, that God was big enough to handle any problem.

And she also knew that staying here in the dim moonlight, talking to a very handsome and compassionate man, wasn’t the solution to anything. She stood and turned toward the stairs. “I’d love to go. Thanks for asking.”

* * *

Minutes after Gina went into her room and closed the door, Buck trotted downstairs. He was putting on his coat when Lacey came out of the kitchen, holding her orange cat in her arms.

“Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s late.”

“Need some air.” The conversation with Gina had thrown him off balance in more ways than one, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep anytime soon.

Not to mention he was worried about the baby. Earlier tonight, when Gina had gone inside to fetch his binky, Buck had snapped a photo of Bobby’s bruise to show Dion.

His sister cuddled the cat closer and studied him, her forehead wrinkled.

“It’s just a walk, Lace.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!” Then, ashamed of his sharp tone, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. He shouldn’t be mad at her when she’d bailed him out of so many problems. Between her own tragedies and his bad behavior, his waiflike younger sister had been forced to grow stronger than any woman should have to be. “I won’t be out long and I won’t do...what I used to do.”

“I know.” She leaned into his side. “I just got in the habit of worrying about you, know what I mean?”

“I know. But I’m fine.”

At least, he hoped he was fine, he thought as he stepped out the door. In the past, he’d have for sure gone on a bender just because he felt mixed up about that encounter with Gina.

He was worried about what he’d overheard, but that wasn’t all of it.

Turned out God had a sense of humor. He was attracted to the pretty, maternal stranger.

Buck blew out a sigh and strode through Rescue River’s small business district. A farming community to the core, the town shut down early. The diner and the shops all had doors closed and lights off.

Clouds scuttled over the moon and a breeze rattled the tree limbs. Buck pulled his coat closer around him. Ohio weather. Yesterday had been springlike, but tonight it felt like a front was coming through.

There was one business still open, one place where light and happy noises indicated life: the Ace Tavern.

Buck straightened his back and told himself to keep walking. And he did. He walked past.

Behind him, the door of the tavern opened. Could he be blamed for turning back? Any combat vet worth his salt had it ingrained: know what’s going on behind you.

A long-haired woman came out, alone. Wearing a jacket that didn’t look too warm, skintight jeans and ridiculously high heels. There was a click, a flash, and she got her cigarette lit, then looked up and saw him. “Hey, handsome, come buy me a drink,” she said. Then she squinted and leaned toward him, catching herself on the bar’s wooden outside wall. “Well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes. Buck Armstrong.”

He stepped closer and recognition dawned. “Hey, Heather, how’s it going?” He reached out to grasp her hand and ended up steadying her. “Been a while.” Heather was at least fifteen years older than Buck, but they’d been good drinking buddies. Heather was one of the few people in town who’d been able to match Buck shot for shot.

The thought of that brought a tight feeling to his throat.

A glass of whiskey, he knew, would take that feeling away. Warm him right up, too.

“Gonna finish my smoke and then go back in. C’mon, have a cold one and let me know what you been up to.” She spoke slowly and carefully but still tripped over a few of the words. Did he used to sound like that?

“You planning on driving home tonight?” He knew Heather lived out in the country, had been to a couple of parties at her place.

“Sure, yeah. Why, want to come out my way?”

“No, not tonight, thanks.”

“Your loss.” She turned to go back into the bar and stumbled.

Catching her, Buck blew out a breath. He knew well enough what falling-down drunk looked like, and Heather was falling-down drunk. And he needed to make sure someone would take care of her. Holding her elbow, he steered her inside.

The bar wasn’t crowded. A couple of guys playing pool, a man and woman talking intently in a booth, and three or four of his old acquaintances at the bar. Regulars, people who didn’t have much family. Whether they hung out at the Ace because of that, or whether their drinking had pushed loved ones away, they didn’t have another place to go, and the bar served as home to them.

“Hey, Armstrong!” Word circled around the place, and it was like he’d never left. Guys clapping him on the back, Heather clinging to his arm, proud to have brought in a popular old friend, the bartender turning over glasses, shot and a beer, his old favorite.

“Not tonight, Arnie,” he told the bartender, leading Heather to a table and then extricating himself from her grasp.

Mild catcalls of disapproval greeted his refusal. Everyone here knew he was in AA and probably didn’t want to tempt him too badly, but they’d welcome him back into the fold in a minute. His choice.

He stepped over to the bar and handed Arnie a couple of bills. “Get someone to take Heather home tonight, could you? She shouldn’t be driving.”

Arnie pocketed the money with a smile. “I’ll take her myself.”

“Thanks.” Get out of here, now. He looked around at the beer signs, the glittering rows of bottles, ran a hand over the scarred wooden bar. This place had been here forever. A classic.

Get out now.

He turned toward the door.

“Sure I can’t get you a drink? My treat.” Arnie held up a glass.

Get out. Buck fingered his sobriety coin, squeezed it hard until the edges dug into his palm. Looked up at the ceiling, made a plea.

“No. No, thank you.” Somehow, he got his mouth to form the words and got his feet to start marching. Like marching during wartime, when you’d been up twenty-four hours and more and didn’t think your legs could carry you. One step at a time.

A moment later he was out of the bar and leaning against the wooden front of it, breathing hard. He pulled out his sobriety coin and, in the light from the bar’s window, read the serenity prayer printed in tiny letters on the back. Or pretended to read it; actually, he knew it by heart. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to...

In front of him, a police cruiser stopped, and he was still enough of a drunk that his heart raced before he remembered he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Dion stepped out and walked over, stood a little closer than was polite. Undoubtedly trying to tell if Buck smelled of liquor. “In trouble, my friend?”

“Just got away from it.” He held up his coin.

Dion narrowed his eyes, studying it, and then the light dawned. “Your recovery coin. Close call?”

Buck nodded, his heart rate settling back to normal. The fresh, cold air braced him. He could do this.

He hoped.

“Want to grab a cup of coffee? I’m done with my shift.”

He wanted a drink. But no. He didn’t intend to go back there, not ever. “Thanks—coffee sounds good,” he said and got into the cruiser.

He’d definitely have something to share at tomorrow’s AA meeting.

When they reached the truckers’ restaurant out by the highway—the only nondrinking place open at this hour—the owner hurried toward them. He was a short man in a white shirt with pants pulled up high on his ample belly, and his hand was raised like a stop sign. “You’re welcome, Chief, but him I won’t serve.”

Heat rose in Buck’s face. He dimly remembered some late-night, postbar confrontation, some shouting, a few shoves.

The smells of coffee and fried food wafted through the air. A couple of uniformed waitresses stood near the cash register, watching. They probably remembered Buck, too, and not in a good way.

He turned to go.

“He’s my guest,” Dion said. His voice was quiet, but he’d drawn himself up tall. He was a big man, and commanding, and the restaurant manager visibly cringed.

“Well, all right, if you’ll take full responsibility. But if there’s any trouble...”

“If there’s trouble, I’ll handle it, my friend.”

The manager nodded and stepped aside, and Dion led the way to a booth in the restaurant’s back corner.

Once they’d both ordered coffee, Buck let his head sink onto one fist and stared down at the none-too-clean table. “I’ll never get out from under my reputation. I’ve got to leave Rescue River. Repay my debts and leave.”

Dion shook his head, slowly. “You’re a new creation. Did you think that was just words?”

“The outside looks the same, and no one around here believes in the change. It’s dangerous,” he added for clarification, remembering Arnie holding up the glass.

Instead of responding to that, Dion studied him. “What was it had you out walking so late?”

Buck looked at Dion’s dark eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a depth of thought and wisdom beyond most of the people Buck knew. “Did you ever meet a woman you really liked, but you knew she was out of reach?”

Dion’s mouth twisted a little and he looked out across the restaurant. “In a manner of speaking.”

Daisy Hinton, the town’s pretty blonde social worker, sprang into Buck’s mind. He’d heard the rumors about her and Dion but didn’t know whether there was any substance to them.

Dion rubbed the back of his neck. “What are we talking about here? You got a crush on someone unattainable?”

Buck sighed. “It’s Gina. I like her.”

“The new lady in town?” Dion lifted an eyebrow. “Back up, my man. What have you heard? How’s the baby doing?”

“The good news is, Bobby is doing fine. Gina couldn’t possibly be the one who was abusing him. He’s thriving, and she’s real gentle with him.”

“Good.” Dion sipped at his hot coffee. “What’s the bad news?”

Buck hesitated. Should he tell Dion what he’d overheard, possibly getting Gina into trouble? But if he didn’t tell Dion, and something happened to her that could have been prevented...