Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1)(75)

In the middle of the main street in River Bend, Wyatt realized how hard he’d fallen.

And he smiled.





Melanie sat beside Wyatt’s father, sinking her teeth into some of the best barbeque ribs she’d ever eaten and feeling as if the food was gas in a car that had been sitting in the front yard for twenty dry years.

She’d eaten enough to survive in the past week, but not enough to fuel her brain.

With Wyatt’s infusion of confidence and watching the town come together to celebrate her child . . . she was ready to fight.

“I’m angry, William. The man refused to give me a dime, said he was barely living off the funds his parents gave him for college. When I suggested he get a job like me, he couldn’t be bothered to tap into the hours set aside for his social life. We had a child. A social life takes a backseat to that.”

William stopped chewing on his corn on the cob to respond. “That it does.”

“Now he’s back and for what reason? And even if we don’t learn what’s behind all this, what makes him think he’s parent material? And you know . . .” she pointed the end of the rib bone at William, “that social worker has to be in his pocket. Hope was being cared for by a respected, sane, responsible adult when she . . .” The thought of Hope on the side of the cliff made her pause. “She wasn’t neglected. Isn’t neglected.”

“Hope is a polite, well-adjusted young woman. It’s clear you’re doing a fine job raising her,” William said.

“She is . . . isn’t she?” They both looked into the middle of the street. Hope played alongside a handful of other kids her age. All kids she would have eventually met when she started school in the fall. She was smiling and laughing, despite the broken arm and the events of the week.

“I may not be able to provide her with all the toys and all the junk a lot of kids have. But she has what she needs. I’ve sacrificed my own crap so she could have enough.” Melanie lifted a hand in the air. “I’m not trying to toot my own horn. I just do what every other parent out there does. Except Nathan. He never sacrificed squat. So yeah . . .” she paused, set the bone on the plate. “I’m pissed he even showed up. It isn’t like he handed me a check, or God forbid, health insurance.” The thought of the bills that were coming her way hadn’t even hit her yet. The hospital social workers had set her up with a contact to help tap into some funding for the needy to help minimize the debt. Bottom line, she didn’t have the money for gas for her car when she had one, and health insurance wasn’t a priority when she could stand in line at a clinic. Yeah, it sucked, but she didn’t have many options.

It was William’s turn to point food at her. “You know the good thing about anger?”

“No, what?” She bit into another rib.

“It’s the perfect motivator. Not happy with the current president? It motivates you to go out and vote for the next. Gas prices too high? Buy an electric car, hug a tree, put in solar. Tired of bullies? Learn to fight, take control, don’t allow yourself to be a victim.”

Melanie looked into the eyes of the man and saw his son. “Did Wyatt tell you to say that?”

William offered a look of shock. “Remember who raised whom, darlin’.”

She giggled. “He calls me that.”

“Calls you what?”

“Darlin’. Always makes me think he was raised in Texas and not California.”

William glanced toward the cloudless sky. “Guilty. Born and raised outside of Houston. I’d like to think some of me chipped off the block.”

She couldn’t help but laugh and search the block chip out of the crowd. She caught him across the street, standing beside Luke and a man who looked familiar but she couldn’t place.

Wyatt offered a wave and she smiled back, waving her rib.

Well, what was left of it.

She returned her gaze to William, then snapped back to Wyatt and narrowed her eyes. “Is that . . . Alan Crane?”

William glanced around, saw his son, and shrugged. “Looks like it.”

Melanie tilted her head. “You knew he was coming?”

He finished off his corn and wiped his mouth with the red and white checkered napkin before placing it on the table. “I might have had my people contact his people.”

“But my daughter’s not missing.” And Alan Crane was the face of missing children. After the murder of his young daughter many years ago, Alan’s life revolved around finding missing children and the perpetrators who harmed them. He was the media face of the forgotten.

“Mr. Lewis is,” William said.

She stared at Wyatt’s father without humor. “But Wyatt asked you to help with Nathan.”

He laid his hand over hers. “No. He asked that I help with you. And Melanie . . . my son has never asked a thing of me since before he was in college. Even then . . .”

Tears were close, but she pushed them back. “I’ll pay you back someday.”

Hope took that moment to climb up into the chair she had beside them. She shoved food in her face and smiled at them both before scrambling off.

“You already have.”

Zoe snuck up behind her and slid into a chair. “Well, do I pass the test?” Zoe asked the question to William.