Mind Games - Page 203

“I’m sorry, Daddy. Don’t be mad at me again.”

“No, no, I’m not mad. I won’t be mad.”

He glanced over to thank Thea, but she was already driving back up the lane.

“We’re okay. We’re going to be okay. Nobody’s more important to me than you,” he said as he carried Bray into the house. “We’re going to take care of each other, right? You and me.”

* * *

He let Bray sleep in his bed that night as much to comfort himself as his son. Nothing had ever scared him as much as the shattering fear in that few minutes after he’d taken Bray a jelly sandwich and found an empty room.

Searching the house, calling—pissed at first that the kid had defied the time-out rule. Then realizing his boy wasn’t there. Wasn’t anywhere.

His heart, his soul. His son.

And his fault, Ty thought when he checked Bray’s temperature in the morning. Normal. When he got him ready for school, when he watched him get on the bus.

His fault.

He’d brought Bray to this place, and he’d made it home. He honestly hadn’t realized how much of a home until he’d searched the house and couldn’t find his little boy anywhere in it.

So, his fault, because he hadn’t listened. Because he hadn’t wanted to admit he broke his child’s heart because someone had broken his.

He’d have to find a way to stay. He’d have to work out boundaries with Thea. Get the locks changed, get Bray a puppy. Hell, he’d get chickens if that’s what it took.

He’d build his studio, and put up a fence for privacy.

He’d do whatever he had to do.

Because he never wanted to see that abject misery on his son’s face again.

He picked up the cardigan he’d tossed over the back of the sofa.

He had to return it, and he had to thank Thea for bringing his boy back to him. And holding on to his temper, he’d make certain she understood to keep her distance.

To give that temper time to stay cool, he grabbed a jacket and walked up the lane.

He hadn’t wanted to move either, but still thought it the wiser choice. Unwise or not, they’d make this work.

Locks, a privacy fence, a security system. But she’d damn well give him that key.

And he’d be as calm and reasonable as possible when he told her to delete any photos she’d taken of Bray.

The dog trotted across the yard when he spotted Ty.

“You’re going to keep your distance, too.”

Maybe he’d fallen for the damn dog, too, but he had his priorities.

He knocked on the front door.

She looked tired, he thought when she opened the door. Pale with it. And, he realized, wary.

“I wanted to return this.”

“Oh. Yes.” She took the sweater. “Could I ask how Bray is?”

“He’s fine. I appreciate you bringing him home yesterday.”