Chapter 12

"Lindsay," Sandy called. She threw down her helmet and raced after her daughter.

"Wait," Kyle yelled. He secured the kickstand and jerked off his helmet, then took off after her. He caught her on the stairs. "I want to talk to her, too," he said.

"This isn't your problem."

"I'm the one she has a crush on."

"I'm her mother."

They paused by the front door. Kyle waited. He didn't want to walk away from this. Lindsay was important to him. He knew how she was feeling; he'd been there himself. "I'm not leaving," he said.

Sandy sighed. "Suit yourself, but I'm warning you, it could get ugly. Lindsay has never been shy about saying what she's thinking."

She opened the front door and started across the foyer. Nichole saw them from the family room and got up. "Mommy, I had the best time at camp today. I want to go back tomorrow and the next day." Her green eyes sparkled with excitement. "I even made you something." She glanced past her mother toward him. "Hi, Kyle."

"Hey, kitten."

She dimpled.

Sandy looked at her daughter. "Honey, Lindsay's really upset and we have to go talk to her right now. But as soon as we're done, I want you to tell me everything about your day, okay?"

"Sure." Nichole plopped down on the sofa. "I'll wait."

Kyle was surprised. He'd expected her to get upset at being ignored. "You've got some great kids," he said as they started up the stairs.

"They all know I'll keep my promise to listen. They don't like waiting, but they're old enough to stop making a fuss about it." She winced. As they neared the second-floor landing, they could hear Lindsay's harsh sobs.

Kyle swore. "The kid sounds like her heart is breaking."

"It is."

He grimaced. It wasn't fair. Growing up was tough on everyone. He had a fleeting thought that this wasn't his problem, that he could bolt and no one would blame him. Instead, he forced himself to keep climbing the stairs. Lindsay needed him, and whether she knew it or not, so did Sandy.

Lindsay's door was closed. Sandy knocked.

"Lindsay, Kyle and I want to come in."

"No! Go away." Her voice was thick with tears. Kyle felt a sharp pain in his gut. The kid was really suffering.

Sandy opened the door and stepped inside. Lindsay lay on her bed, curled up and facing the window. Her long brown hair streamed over the pillow.

"Lindsay, we never meant to hurt you," Sandy said.

The preteen didn't move.

Sandy looked at Kyle helplessly. He held up his hands, indicating he didn't know what to say, either. This was way out of his league.

Sandy moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. Before she could touch her daughter, Lindsay rolled toward her. "No," she said loudly. "Don't sit down, don't say anything. I don't want to hear it." He face was flushed, her eyes red from crying.

Sandy stood up slowly. "Lindsay."

"No. I saw you, Mom. How could you? It was disgusting." Her mouth twisted. Her gaze shifted to Kyle. "You don't really like her, do you? You don't think she's pretty. She's old and never does anything but yell at us to do our chores and be responsible. You're not like that. You're fun, Kyle. You don't like her. You can't."

Tears flowed from her eyes. Her voice caught. "I'll never forgive you. Never."

Kyle moved closer to the bed. Lindsay stared at him for a moment. The raw pain in her gaze made him flinch. "Lindsay, you've got to understand."

"No, I don't," she said, turning her back on him. "I hate you, too. Go away."

"I can't." He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. She jerked away. He tried again and this time she let him touch her. After a few minutes, he drew her close, turning her so she was pressed against him, her head leaning against his chest.

She continued to cry. He could feel the moisture of her tears as they dampened his T-shirt, and the sobs shaking her slight body. Sandy stood beside the bed with her hands balled into fists. She was hurting, too. He didn't know how to comfort them both.

"I know how you feel," he said to Lindsay.

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do. I had a crush on someone once." He stared at the top of her head, then rested his hand on her hair. "I was fourteen. She never knew I was alive."

Lindsay sniffed and looked up at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "She was an older woman and dating one of my brothers."

"What happened?"

He cupped her chin and brushed the tears from her face. "I tried to tell her how I felt, but she didn't listen. She was polite and friendly, but she wasn't interested in me. Basically, she shut me down big time."

Brown eyes widened with curiosity. "Did it hurt?"

"Like someone had reached inside and ripped my heart out. It hurt bad."

Lindsay nodded and stared at the bedspread. "I know," she whispered. "What happened after that?"

He shrugged. "She left for college and I eventually got over it." He smoothed her hair away from her face. "You will, too. Because you don't really want me for a boyfriend, Lindsay. For one thing, I'm way too old. For another…" He paused.

Sandy had stood silently beside the bed listening as he talked. He didn't want to look at her and find out what she was thinking. After all, she was the one he'd had that crush on sixteen years ago. He figured he could easily go another sixteen years without her finding out the truth. He wondered what she would say if she knew. He wondered how mad she was going to be with what he was about to tell her daughter.

"What?" Lindsay asked.

"You want me to help fill the hole your dad's death has left in your life." When she would have turned away, he held her close. "Listen to me, Lindsay. If you think about it, you'll know I'm right. You were always doing things with him. You and he had a very special relationship. It's only natural that you would miss that. Then you met me. I remind you a little of your dad. I'm fun to be with, I don't take things as seriously as your mom. But you felt guilty and disloyal. You think the only person who can be a father figure in your life is your father. You didn't know what to think, so it was easier to pretend you had a crush on me."

Her mouth opened, but she didn't speak. "It's okay," he told her. "You can have more than one adult male in your life acting like a dad. You'll always love your father the most, and that's how it should be. That doesn't mean I can't give you a little advice from time to time." He scowled. "Especially when you start dating. I plan to look those young men over very carefully, Lindsay Walker, so don't expect to bring home any biker types."

Her eyes filled with tears, but this time she was smiling. She flung herself at him and squeezed hard. He hugged her back.

"Are we gonna be all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but didn't let go. He risked a glance at Sandy. She was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before.

"How'd you know all that?" Sandy asked.

"It just sort of came to me."

Lindsay raised her head. "Mom?"

"Oh, honey." Sandy walked toward them. Kyle shifted on the bed and stretched out his left arm toward her. She moved close and hugged them both.

"I love you, baby," she said.

"I love you, too, Mom."

Kyle swallowed against the sudden tightening in his throat. He wasn't sure where he'd gotten the words. When he'd needed them, they'd just sort of been there. He was grateful that they'd been the right thing to say.

Now, holding Sandy and Lindsay close, he felt something he hadn't felt for years, if ever. He felt as if he belonged. As if all the years of playing daddy with his brother's kids, or the neighbor kids, had finally paid off. He felt strong enough to carry all the troubles of the world on his shoulders, and weak enough to fight the burning at the back of his eyes.

When Lindsay wiggled free, he didn't want to let her go. He didn't want the perfect moment to end. Because when they all stood up and looked at one another, he would be the one on the outside. He wasn't part of the family. He wasn't likely to be. Sandy might be interested in sleeping with him, but she'd made it clear that he wasn't the sort of man she wanted in her life permanently.

Lindsay scrambled off the bed and walked over to the window. She stared outside. "I guess I made a fool of myself, huh?"

"Not with me," he said. "I'm not sure what you've been doing with the other men in the neighborhood, though."

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Kyle!"

"Lindsay!"

She grinned.

"Your secret is safe with me, kid," he said.

"I can still come over and make fresh lemonade if you want," she said.

"I'd like that."

"Tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting."

He started toward the door. Sandy followed. When they reached the staircase, she paused.

"You did really good in there," she said.

"Thanks. I was nervous."

"It didn't show." She looked up at him. "Thanks, Kyle. It could have gotten ugly, but you were great."

He liked the hero worship shining from her green eyes. He liked that he'd impressed her. But he hadn't done it for her; he'd only been thinking of Lindsay. "I'm glad it worked out."

"Me, too." She put her hand on the railing, but didn't step down. "So what's the real story about this crush of yours? I don't remember any of the Haynes brothers ever being without a date."

"I was only fourteen at the time. A little young for dating."

"And she really didn't notice you?"

"You sound surprised. I was a kid. She wasn't. It's no big deal, Sandy. It happens all the time."

"But not to you." She smiled. "I guess I can't imagine who it would be. One of the cheerleaders? Oh, you said someone one of your brothers dated. Which brother? Travis? He always had the prettiest girls."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"I'm just a little curious."

He could tell her. What would she do with the information? Would it make a difference? He watched as her mouth curled in a smile. Her nose was a little red, as if she'd been in the sun too long on their bike ride. Instantly, images of what had happened on that picnic-table bench flashed into his mind. He had to fight the need to bend over and kiss her. Just once. Instead, he started down the stairs.

"You're not going to tell me?" she asked.

"No."

"But, Kyle, I want to know."

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward her. She was grinning. "Just one little name. What will it hurt?"

She was right. It couldn't hurt anything. It had been a long time ago. If he was going to risk it with Sandy, he might as well risk it all. Then, if it didn't work out, he could tell himself he'd done his best. It would be small comfort if she left him, but he would need all the help he could get.

He walked to the front door, then paused. "It was you, Sandy. Always you. I'm surprised you didn't figure it out." Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

"Mom, when can I learn how to drive?" Lindsay asked.

Fortunately, Sandy was already at a stop sign, so she didn't accidentally hit the brakes and risk being rear-ended. She glanced at her twelve-year-old daughter. "Where did that question come from?"

Lindsay shrugged. "I just asked. Sheesh, you always make such a big deal out of everything."

"You'll learn to drive when you're fifteen and a half and get your learner's permit. Not before."

"Figures." Lindsay slumped back in her seat.

It was her turn to ride in front. The children rotated weekly. Blake sat directly behind her, playing a hand-held video game, and Nichole was having a quiet conversation with her doll. All in all, life had settled into a routine. The children went to camp every day, she had finished unpacking and was planning her lessons for the coming semester. She'd figured out where everything was in the grocery store and she'd managed to reduce the time she spent thinking about Kyle from all of her day to aboutthree-quarters of it. Not bad considering she couldn't get his confession out of her mind.

It was you, Sandy. Always you. I'm surprised you didn't figure it out.

How could he have said that to her and then just left? She'd been too shocked to do more than stare at him as he'd walked out of her house, and then it had been too late to go after him. Nichole had claimed her attention. Next, she'd had to deal with making dinner. Suddenly, it had been the next day and she'd been too embarrassed to seek Kyle out and ask him what he'd really meant.

He'd had a crush on her? It didn't make sense. She barely remembered him as a fourteen-year-old. Of course, if she couldn't remember him, she probably had ignored him, but why would he have had a crush on her? She wasn't a cheerleader. She was just ordinary. Sensible Sandy, as he called her. She wasn't the type to inspire that kind of affection. She certainly hadn't in Thomas.