Free Faith in the Cowboy (Taming the Cowboy) by Emma Jay Page B

try. Scared the hell out of him, but he might try. “What time will he be home tomorrow?”
    After he hung up with Holly, he went to bed, alone, and wondered if Teresa would be proud of him.
    Then wondered why it mattered.
     
    *****
     
    She was quiet when she got into the car the next morning, but passed him a travel cup, warm and heavy.
    “I made you coffee.”
    A peace offering, maybe? He took the cup and settled it in the cup holder, then leaned across the cab to kiss her lightly on the mouth. She touched his cheek, but looked away when he eased back, so he didn’t know if he was forgiven or not. He took a sip of coffee and guided the truck out onto the road.
    “I called Taylor last night.”
    “Your son?”
    “He was already in bed, but my ex said I could call him today.”
    “Good. That’s good.”
    “She said he’s having trouble in school. In math. Hell, Teresa, I don’t know what to say to him. ‘Study harder?’ ‘Listen to your teacher?’ I sucked at math. I sucked at school.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to be a dad anymore. It was easy when he was little, right, just keep him out of danger, keep him from sticking his fork in the outlet or putting his hand on the stove. I don’t know how to deal with attitude, especially long-distance.”
    “When does he have spring break? Maybe she can send him to you?”
    “What, like...here? To Las Vegas? Have him, what, sleep in my RV?”
    She shrugged. “I’m just saying what I would do, if I had any rights in my daughter’s life.”
    He looked across the cab at her sad face. He knew she was right, that she’d do anything to have her daughter with her.
    “I’ll talk to Holly.”
    “Good.”
    He was doing the right thing. So why did terror flutter in his chest?
     
    *****
     
    The terror was a full-blown raptor when he sat at his dinette and stared at the phone in his hand. Why were kids so hard to talk to? Partly it was because he had a pretty good idea the kid didn’t want to talk to him. Why should he? He only saw him a few times a year.
    He tapped the number and brought the phone to his ear. “Is this a better time?” he asked when Holly answered with an exasperated, “Hello?”
    “We’re driving home right now.”
    “You’re driving. Taylor’s not.” He wished every time he talked to her wasn’t a confrontation, but he figured he deserved it.
    He heard a muffled exchange, a little tension in Holly’s tone, a little resentment in Taylor’s. Then Taylor’s voice on the line.
    “Hi, Dad.”
    Wow, yeah, resentment. West’s stomach clenched. “Hey, buddy. What’s up. I hear soccer’s done? You got anything else going on?”
    “No.”
    Great. Pulling teeth would be easier. “How’s school?”
    “Fine.”
    “How’s math?”
    A big sigh. “Mom told you?”
    “Yeah, what’s going on?”
    “Math sucks, is what.”
    “Have you talked to your teacher about it? Told her you don’t understand?”
    “No, Dad, I’m an idiot.”
    Great, just what he needed. Attitude. He already didn’t know what to say. “She won’t help you?”
    “She wants me to come to tutoring before school and Mom can’t get me there on time.”
    West’s own frustration rose. Why wouldn’t Holly do whatever it took to help Taylor? But he couldn’t put his son in the middle by asking him that. He’d have a separate conversation with Holly later.
    “What kind of math is it?”
    “Fractions.”
    “Like, one-fourth, one-eighth?”
    “Like decimals equivalent to fractions. And percentages.”
    “Geez.” He curbed his language just in time. “In fifth grade?”
    A little grunt that West couldn’t decipher.
    “I wish I could help you, buddy, but math wasn’t my strength.”
    “Great. Something else I get from you.”
    West frowned, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. Sure, the kid had blonde hair and blue eyes like West, but for some reason he didn’t think that was what the kid was talking about. He was