Page 29 of Stand

“I’ll be fine,” Matt said. Well, he said, “Ll b’fn,” but Sam got it. The kid needed escapism. And at leastTerminatorhad a kickass female lead in it.

“That’s one of my favorite movies,” she said approvingly. “The last one was even better.”

“Yeah,” Cat unexpectedly added. “You think you’re Sarah Connor, don’t you, Sam?”

Megan cackled. Ty looked stunned. Mateo and Paolo giggled, and Sam put her hands on her hips. Just because she dug khaki colors and could rock a tank top didn’t mean she thought she was the most badass female character around, did it?

“Is she a hero?” Alyssa said, “because Sam totallyisher, then! She stopped my mom from hitting my brother again!”

The joking atmosphere got sucked right out of the room. “Oh, honey,” Megan said, with a mountain of compassion and love behind the words. But she couldn’t stop the memory from overwhelming Alyssa, who burst into tears.

The Fielding boys scattered, but there were so many women trying to get to Alyssa that Ty almost couldn’t get through. “Come on, baby,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s sit outside a little while.”

“The back porch is good,” Cat said, opening the door. “I’ll bring out your float, honey.”

They left the house, Alyssa’s sobs echoing back into the kitchen.

Chapter 8

They all slept there that night. Jake insisted Matt take his bed while he stretched out on the floor. Alyssa begged to stay in Sam’s room, promising that she’d sleep on the floor, too, but Sam said, “It’s a queen-sized bed, so unless you sleep like a starfish, there’s room for both of us.”

“You never know,” Ty said.

What else could he do? Drag his kids back to their sad little townhouse? This family—of all the freaking families in this town—was overwhelming in their kindness.

Ty himself was going to go home. No one could pretendhewas having a sleepover with his friends. But Cat, being Cat, ordered him around until he agreed to take the couch. “You don’t have to do this,” he protested when she started in on how many pillows she’d give him and how many more were in which closet.

“Like we’d let you drive home in this condition,” Cat said, nodding at his face. She seemed to have no compunction about the insult.

Her husband nodded from the door to the family room. “Please allow us to help,” he said more politely in his soft Italian accent. “We have luck, and you could use some. Also some pajamas, I think?”

Ty looked down at the blankets Cat was placing at one end of the couch, despite it being a cool night. He was still in his graduation ceremony clothes. Everything in him wanted to hide from these well-meaning folks, who were so kind when he’d fucked up so badly. When all their luck made his skin hurt. But he said, “Yeah, thanks. Maybe just a T-shirt.” Antonio was several inches shorter than he. He’d bet he’d look ridiculous in the man’s pajama pants. He’d do better in Sam’s pants.

His cheeks heated.

Goddammit. You can’t keep your mind on your problems for a hot second.

But the unbidden thought made him smile, which was better than crying and brightened Cat and Antonio’s faces. They retrieved some clothes for him, handed him a new toothbrush, and left him alone. Their happy couplehood was obvious and made his heart twist.

If anyone had told his seventeen-year-old self that he’d be spending the night in Sam Fielding’s house, he’d have waited for the blow, because a fantastical statement like that would have to be followed by a punch or a stamp on his foot or a gleeful, sarcastic laugh at the hope he couldn’t hide. Yet here he was, given free run of the house, encouraged toplease, please, eat whatever you find; we’ll keep the boys out of here in the morning so you can sleep.He hadn’t been offered food so often in his entire life.

He kept his boxer briefs on and pulled on Antonio’s shirt. Sure enough, it was snug. Relying on his ability to keep himself covered and his alarm to wake him up early enough, he lay down in just the shorts. He’d never sleep anyway. The couch was deep and long. Rather than smelling like boy, which he’d expected, the blankets were fresh and the pillows cool. But he definitely wouldn’t sleep tonight, with Matt in pain upstairs.

The next thing he knew, the sun was coming through the crack in the drapes over the patio doors, and voices, hurriedly shushed, sounded from the next room.

Ty had no freaking idea where he was.

His first sleepy, absurd thought was that Julia had succeeded in kidnapping all three of them. His heart rate soared before he pieced together the previous day. No. She was in jail now. Really in jail. She couldn’t take them anywhere—not that she’d ever had any intention of getting Ty back. His kids were upstairs in this beautiful old house with woodwork that his fingers itched to copy; he’d been told he was welcome here, and he could smell coffee.

A knock sounded on the door—the house was old and the rooms were separated in ways that would make HGTV cry. He sat up, clutching the blankets to his front. “C’min,” he said, his voice as groggy as his brain.

The door opened a crack. Alyssa’s head came around it. “Hey, Lyss,” he said, happy to see her. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, running over and leaping onto the couch by his side. He took the blanket he’d covered himself with and wrapped it around her instead, like the cocoons she made for herself at home. “Sam snores a little.”

Ty’s laugh cracked out of him so fast he was surprised at the sound. “Oh no!”

“Not like Matt,” Alyssa was quick to clarify, which made Ty laugh again.

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