Page 8 of The Best of Us

Where’s my phone?“I’ll call the cops. Leave!” Panic set in, and a tremor shot through my body and into my words as I shouted to whoever was trying to get into our home.

“Please do. Your son stole my wallet,” the guy hollered back, shifting to the side to look at me. “And nothing better be missing.” There was a definite growl packed into those rage-filled words.

You must have the wrong home.

The moment the man met my eyes, his brows stitched together as if surprised by something. My son seized the opportunity to employ a self-defense technique, a right elbow to his jaw.

The guy didn’t flinch. He focused back on my son like a target, doubling down on trying to get inside our home. “I need my wallet. I won’t hurt either of you.”

I stepped alongside Colin to help him, but that only distracted him. Colin lost his footing and stumbled back, which sent the door swinging open and the stranger falling forward and right into me.His hands flew up to the wall on each side of me to brace himself, so he didn’t crush me.

The three of us were now in the foyer as the door hit the opposite wall and rebounded, slamming shut. The man dipped his chin, dark eyes on me in shock.

“Sorry.” His gruff apology caught me off guard as Colin tried to peel the guy away from me.

All I could do was keep my arms prisoner at my sides as a confusing feeling ofsomethingwashed over me with this man’s brown, nearly charcoal-colored, eyes pinned on me.

“Get away from my mom!”

“I will if you’d stop hitting me and step back,” he answered steadily.

I lifted my hands, and they landed on his hard chest. His heartbeat was thrashing, almost as intensely as mine was.

“Colin, do what he said.” It was now clear Colin was the reason I was stuck up against this stranger, a man who didn’t seem to want to accidentally hurt one of us if he made the first move.

I guess I should stop touching him.

I lowered my hands to my sides, but he didn’t unlock his possessive hold of my eyes. We were in gridlock traffic and not going anywhere.

Colin groaned, but thankfully, he listened and backed off.

The man pushed away from the wall and held his hands up, but he didn’t turn away from me. “I don’t want to fight you, kid. I just want my wallet and everything that’s supposed to be inside it,” he said before disengaging from our staring contest. “I’ll be on my way once you return it.”

He had an accent I hadn’t noticed initially. Not too strong, but it was still there. It dipped and swerved around in his words, a mix of New York and a touch of . . .something.

His suit jacket fell in place when he shifted to the side, drawing his arms down.

Colin pushed past him to stand in front of me like a shield.

Hand to his shoulder, I whispered the question that hurt to ask. “Did you really take his wallet?”

Hearing his answer, “Yes,” hurt me even more.

The dam of what felt like despair broke, but I refused to cry in front of either of them. So, I sucked it up and forged ahead with an awkward sniffle and throat clear. “I’m so sorry.” Apparently, my son didn’t just defend the innocent, he stole from them as well.

“Your wallet is in my room. My mother is coming with me. I won’t leave you two alone.”

“Nothing better be missing,” he repeated, and the husky bass of his voice shocked its way under my skin.

Before I could understand that strange reaction to a man’s voice, Colin grabbed my arm and guided me around the dominating force in our foyer.

I followed him into his bedroom, wasting no time to state the obvious. “What were you thinking? You’re stealing now?”

Colin went to his knees in front of his bed and reached under it for a shoebox. I thought he only kept the valuable football cards my father had given him inside it. “I’m sorry.”

Ha. Not gonna cut it, mister.

He removed the wallet from the box and stood. Giving me an Oscar-worthy forlorn expression, he shared, “While you were on shift the other night, I was out with some friends, and I ran into that guy.”

---