M. Stelmack - A Roof Over Their Heads

Just what he didn’t want. “Seth Greene.”

Those blue eyes pinned him as she silently mouthed his name, the tip of her tongue flicking against her front teeth to form the th, her full lips puckering on the opening of his last name.

She repeated his name aloud into the phone. She listened, frowned and passed him the phone. “The officer wants a word with you.” She drew the girl against her leg even closer. This was rich. He’d brought back the kid she’d lost, and she doubted his integrity.

“Careful,” she said, “with my phone.”

And his ability to hold her phone. Seth switched hands with the bat to take it, and walked over to the semiprivacy of his truck before identifying himself.

“Hello there. This is Corporal Paul Grayson. I have a few questions.” Suppressed laughter made the words come out choked.

Seth blew out his breath in relief. And then, because it was Paul, again in annoyance. “I’ve got to get to a store before it closes in twenty minutes and then I’ve got to get back up on a roof and finish there so I can make it to the game. You remember the game, right? Do we really need to do this?”

Seth watched the mom edge to the front garden with a limp-swing to accommodate the child still stuck to her leg. Her very long leg. The other three kids were pulling out weeds up to their chests—couldn’t Connie pick up a hoe for once?—and whipping each other with them. The youngest broke free of her mom to pull up her own weapon.

Paul cleared his throat. “I have to confirm your identity. Not like you to offer rides to boys.”

Kid-free, the mom banded one of her arms across her middle and tapped her fingers against her mouth. Long fingers. Long legs. Long hair. And from the looks of it, having a long day.

“I didn’t,” Seth told Paul. “He crossed in front of my truck. I hit the brakes and he got in. Wanted me to take him to the lake.” Seth left out the part about the boy being naked. It would bring up a whole bunch of questions he didn’t have time for. He checked his own phone. Twenty-three minutes before Tim-Br-Mart closed.

“You were hijacked?” Again the choked-back laughter.

Seth clamped down on his back teeth. “Am I free to go, Officer?”

“How does the mother know Connie?”

“How should I know?” Seth knew what Paul was getting at, and made a decision. “She looks legit to me. She has four kids and—” he dropped his voice and turned his back to the mom, even though she was probably out of earshot “—all of them except for the oldest have one sort of disability or another. I think she’s flat-out busy with them.”

“Is a dad there?”

Something he’d like to know, too. The woman clearly needed help. “Don’t see one.”

Paul made a noncommittal sound, one that had gotten him through a few tense situations with Seth’s sister.

“Okay, then. Could you put the mom back on, please?”

Seth walked over and passed her the phone, trying to check for a wedding ring but she took it with her right hand, her left slotted into the front pocket of her jeans. As if it was any of his business, anyway. If he hurried, he might yet make it to the store. He turned to go.

Then, on his bare arm, the feather touch of her fingertips. Her left hand. No ring.

“Don’t leave, Seth.”

* * *

WHAT HAD SHE DONE? She’d reached for this near stranger as if she’d done it a hundred million times, as if he were— She snatched her hand away, snapped her attention back to the cop.

“...number of resources available to newcomers such as yourself. Are you aware...?”

As the officer’s advice rolled on, Alexi’s attention drifted as always to the kids. Just in time to see Callie whack Bryn square in the back with a weed taller than her, roots first. A splotch of dirt appeared on the 53 of Seth Greene’s bright blue jersey.

“Hey!” he called and strode toward them, his big stick in hand.

No. Callie.

“...the town office is probably the best place to start—”

Callie took one look at the big man with the stick and screamed as if on fire. She shot past him to collide against Alexi’s leg with enough force to throw her off balance.

Alexi hopped about on her sore ankle, sucking in the pain, and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Bryn, you need to give the shirt back to this man.”

Bryn crossed his arms and gripped the jersey sleeves. “But he gave it to me.”

Steady again on her feet, Alexi fought for a way to get through to Bryn. Seth beat her to it.

“I gave it to you to wear home,” he said to Bryn.

“You said the deal was I had to wear it. And I am.”

“Only while you were in my truck, bud.”

“But then I’ll be naked again.”

Alexi heard the cop. “Hello? Is everything okay, Ms. Docker?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s just fine. Mr. Greene is meeting the kids, is all.”

Seth closed the distance between them and motioned for the phone. From the downturn of his mouth, she wasn’t sure if she should. Then again, if he was talking to the officer, he wasn’t with the kids. She handed it over.

“Listen, Paul,” Seth said, “You need to let the mom get back to being a mom before the kid bolts again.”

There was a pause.

“No, she doesn’t need assistance. I’m here.”

He listened a few more seconds before rolling his eyes. “Later,” he said and ended the call. Clearly, Seth Greene and the cop were bros.

Bryn pointed at Seth. “You want my shirt and my stick.”

Seth stared at the odd-shaped stick in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Tell you what,” he said, “you give me my shirt and I’ll give you back your bat.”

“A bat?” Bryn asked, echoing Alexi’s thought.

Seth put a choke hold on the thinner end of the bat and swung it, only a little, but Callie suctioned even tighter on her leg. Seth stilled his swing and eased his grip into a limp hold. He looked at Bryn. “We got a deal?”

Bryn hesitated and then said, “Okay, but first I’m going to get water. I’m thirsty.” He headed to the house.

No, not a repeat of the last time he went inside. Alexi jumped—sore ankle, Callie and all—in front of Bryn. “How about I take you all for slushies?” She looked over to Amy and Matt. “All of you.” She switched back to Bryn. “But first you have to take off the shirt.”

Bryn gripped the back of the jersey to do just that, but Matt and Amy yelled the naked consequences of that move.

Alexi could feel Seth Greene taking all this in, drawing his conclusions, passing them on to his cop-buddy tonight.

“Bryn. Look at me.” She waited until his gaze connected with her collarbone. “Go to the backyard. Get on your clothes. Okay? Backyard. Clothes on. Bring me back the blue shirt. What are you going to do?”

“Backyard. Clothes on. Bring you the blue shirt.” He headed off and Amy followed. She’d make sure it happened. Matt lingered. A double helix of pride—that Matt would protect her and sadness that he felt he had to—twisted inside her. She depended on him far more than was healthy for a boy his age and with his background.

She extended her hand to Seth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t thanked you for bringing back Bryn. Thank you. I—well—it’s been a day. There have been...a few problems.”

He looked at his truck, looked at her hand. The instant he took it, she wished he hadn’t. Her sweaty palm slimed his dry, muscled grip. Hot embarrassment flooded her already overheated body, cresting when he quickly released her hand. “How so?”

How so? She aimed for a light remark. Instead out poured, “The place reeks of paint. There’re no floors. No floors, no fridge, no stove. No kitchen sink. It’s what made Bryn run off.” She licked her lips. “Worse, no water.”