Page 30 of Stand

“Well, that sounds good,” Sam’s voice said from behind him, and Ty had no time to cover up his bare chest as she walked into the room bearing a tray containing a mug of what he sure hoped was coffee and two pieces of toast.

“Stay,” Sam added. Ty obeyed, even if his chest was still exposed. But then he caught the gleam of Cairo’s black and tan coat behind her.

“I told them to give you Nutella,” Alyssa said, bouncing on her seat while Ty tried to grab the blanket out from under her. “I only had it once, and Cat has itall the time!Try it, Dad, go on!”

“Okay, okay.” Sam was in front of him now, and he couldn’t pull on the blanket any more without looking like a total dweeb. So eff it. Sam had seen plenty of men’s chests, he was sure. She sure wasn’t looking at his, anyway, he found when he dared to look at her face instead of the tray she put on the coffee table. Now how did he feel about that?

“Your breakfast, sir,” she said. Maybe it had been hot in the kitchen, because her cheeks were pink. Kickass Sam Fielding wasn’t about to get embarrassed from his physique. Right?

“Thanks.” He took the mug first and drank the coffee black. It was strong and rich.

Kind of like the Fieldings.

He’d known about the rich part, but last night had taught him of their strength. No wonder Sam had owned the joint back in school and walked around like she owned it now. Even without her parents, her siblings had her back and she had theirs. Which made it even more surreal that she’d brought him into the group last night, given him—and more importantly, his kids—the solace a close-knit family could offer.

“What’s the plan for today?” Sam asked, turning away from him and striding over to the covered patio doors. She made to pull the drapes back, but hesitated. Her head turned and he thought he saw her glance at him just a little.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t want to see his chest. Or she was avoiding him because she wanted to look at his chest.

Either way, it was time Ty found his shirt. He grabbed it from the easy chair he’d thrown his clothes on last night and pulled it on. Once three or four buttons were done, he said, “You can go ahead and let in the light. What time is it, anyway?”

“Seven o’clock.” Sam did as he asked, by which time he’d gotten his pants on, too. There. Now she looked at him. He liked it when she did that. “We didn’t want to let you sleep in too late in case you had to go to work.”

“Oh, Daddy, don’t go to work today!” Alyssa’s happiness evaporated. “Stay here with me. With us!”

“Honey, we’ve imposed on these guys long enough,” he told her. “I have to go log in at work, and you have to…”

What did Alyssa have to do? School was done. She had a couple of weeks of downtime before she started at a summer camp. Those days that should have been so carefree now yawned in front of him. With nothing to do, what else could Alyssa think about than what she was missing?

“She’s welcome to stay here,” Sam said. She hadn’t moved from the patio door, which looked out over the small backyard and the two-car garage that was open and spilled out bikes and hockey sticks and held up a basketball hoop. “Matt, too. I’m guessing he won’t be going to school today?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I’ll go check on him. I do have to check in with my office and call my—my attorney.” He wasn’t used to this new world, where hiding that he had an attorney from Alyssa was a moot point.

Sam was wearing an oversized T-shirt that readTree-hugging dirt worshipperand a skirt in some kind of stretchy material that stopped above her knees. Ty didn’t want to notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nope. Didn’t want to notice that. He had shit—stuff to do.

“Well, you can do all that, and we’ll take care of Alyssa. That okay with you, Lyss?”

Damn. She was calling his kid by the name he called her. And Alyssa didn’t stop her, the traitor. Her face lit up like the sunrise, and she said, “Yeah!” in a voice of breathy wonder.

“That’s that, then.”

Ty stood. “I’ll bring her back some clothes for the day.”

“Sure.” Sam’s voice was light, but something was behind it. “And for Matt, too?”

“Yeah.”

Matt. Who needed his meds. Ty put down his mug, ignored the toast with the Nutella Alyssa loved so much, even though his stomach grumbled, and went upstairs to the room Jake had shown him to last night.

Matt was there, still in bed, his face—what Ty could see of it—tight and swollen. “Hey, bud. How’d you sleep?”

Matt’s brows came together, and he shook his head.

“You in pain?” His boy nodded. Ty wasn’t hungry anymore. His stomach hurt for his son’s trauma. “Okay, meds. I’m sorry I didn’t give you them before.”

There was a glass of water on Jake’s dresser, and Matt winced when he opened his mouth the tiniest bit to take the pills, winced again when he swallowed, and winced a third time when he lay back down on the wrong side of his head.

Forget gratitude for giving him his kids. Ty was going to kill Julia.

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