Take a Chance on Me(52)

And it didn’t help that Felicity confirmed it in the way she smiled at him, flirted with him, kissed him. Still . . . “Trust me, I’m the one to blame. Not that she wasn’t willing, but . . . at the end of the day, I’m the one who should have said no. I knew what I should—and shouldn’t—have been doing.” That night, he’d stolen Felicity’s future from her. Her dreams and plans . . . and the chance to marry someone who truly loved her.

“Well, you made it right.”

He pushed his double burger away, his appetite gone. “Did I? I married her, but maybe that was just making the situation worse.” He stared at his little boy, so much of Felicity in him—those big brown eyes, the way he held up his arms to embrace the world. “I should have done better by her.”

“You were young too, Darek. And you had man brain.”

He glanced at her. “You and Mom. Do I want to know what that is?”

“Oh, you can figure it out,” she said, taking another bite.

He rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t let that same brain keep you from calling Ivy. I like her. A lot. And I have a feeling you do too.” Eden set down the gyro. “This thing is so messy!”

Exactly what his life might become if he called Ivy. Let her in any further. Tangled. Dangerous. Terrifying.

Messy.

And that thought planted him right there, stuck. His phone in his pocket, burning a hole, reminding him that he was a jerk.

But last time he’d let his heart take charge . . . “Tiger, come over here and eat your nuggets! They’re getting cold.”

Tiger looked at him, then ran to the table, climbing onto the bench. He reached for the toy, but Darek pulled it away. “After the nuggets.”

Tiger frowned but dug into his lunch.

The sun had climbed to the apex of its path, a slight dusting of clouds in the sky. A skim of smoke tinged the air—probably local campfires or even the fish house, smoking their daily catch. The lake never looked so blue—a rich, deep indigo. On the harbor beach, a couple children threw stones into the water or skipped them across the surface. A husband held his wife’s hand, swinging it between them as they strolled along the rocky beach.

“When do you head back?” Darek picked up a fry, bathed it in ketchup.

“This afternoon. Owen has an appearance tomorrow, even though I have the week off.”

“How’s he doing?” He hadn’t spent much time with his kid brother, Casper and his father commandeering all the conversation, spinning it around the Wild and new plays and stats and play-off hopes and . . . Well, that had never been Darek’s life.

“He’s young. And it’s a little too much glamour for someone his age. He’s got a cameo in an upcoming Sports Illustrated, something about the hockey stars of the season. And the Wild press team has him playing in charity events and appearing at festivals all summer long.”

Darek took a sip of his Coke, finished the can, then crushed it in his hands. “I never thought I’d see one of our siblings on the cover of Sports Illustrated.”

“He’s not there. But he will be.”

“And you? When will I see your byline in some magazine?”

Eden finished with her gyro, closing the leftovers in the foil. “I wish. If I could just get into the news department, start reporting real stories. Obits is such a dead end . . .” She winked, but he saw the frustration in her eyes.

“You’ll get there, Sis.”

“One story. I just need one story. In the meantime, I guess I’m in Minneapolis to keep an eye on Owen.”

“Good luck with that,” Darek said. “It’s like keeping Tiger out of trouble. Right, pal?”

Eden laughed as Tiger grinned at them. Poor kid looked like he’d been hit by a truck, his fat lip now smeared with ketchup, the stitches almost completely dissolved over his eye. He ate his fries with grimy hands and had a skid mark on his knee from where he’d gone down in the grass.

Nan’s words from Sunday burned into Darek’s brain. Can’t you take better care of him?

Maybe not. Maybe it would have been better for him to concede that Nan and George Holloway could take much, much better care of Tiger. Could give him the attention he needed, fill his world with the touch of Felicity he lacked.

And then . . . then Darek would leave. Do something with his life, like fight fires again. Or finish his fire management training.

When he came home, he’d be his son’s hero. The man who trumpeted back into his life and took him fishing and taught him to swim and hunt and love the forest.

Instead of the guy always tired, always a little less of a father than he’d like to be.