Free The Rebuilding Year by Kaje Harper Page B

“I could have picked up one of those women,” he said truculently. “I just didn’t want to.”
    “Right.”
    John opened the door of the truck and gave Ryan a boost up and in. Ryan’s head spun dizzily. John’s hand was warm and secure on his elbow. John tucked Ryan’s feet safely inside the doorframe, slammed the door, and walked around. Ryan waited for his friend’s face to reappear. When John sat down beside him, Ryan sighed. “I’m so fucked up. I don’t know what the hell I want.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” John’s voice was deep velvet in the darkness of the cab. “You’ll be asleep before you figure it out. And then in the morning, all you’ll want will be some aspirin.”
    Ryan tipped his head back and shut his eyes. “Y’know, John, you’re a pretty smart guy.”
    “Right.” John’s voice rumbled into the distance. “I’m damned brilliant.”  

Chapter Six
     
    Coming into LA in November was like turning back the clock, John thought. It was warm and sunny and green. Where it wasn’t dry and brown. Last night in the hotel he hadn’t slept much, wondering what kind of reception he would get. Time to find out.
    The Carlisles lived in a very nice house. In this neighborhood, having a swimming pool was apparently required, and a half-circle driveway was standard. John parked on the drive and climbed the white steps to the front door. He resisted the impulse to check his hair again before ringing the bell. The first notes of the Pachelbel canon echoed behind the closed door. Typical.
    Then the door was pulled open and he was looking at Torey. She hesitated for just a second, long enough to make his heart sink. Then she exclaimed, “Daddy!” and her arms locked around his waist.
    “Hey there, squirt,” he said, hugging her back. “Missed you. Are Mom and Mark in?”
    “Mark’s up in his room,” she said. “I think Mom’s out back with the pool guy.”
    Okay, do not picture that, rein in the overactive imagination. “Do you think I can come in?”
    “Sure!” She pulled the door wide. “Why are you here? How long can you stay?”
    “A few days, and I’m here to see you. How about we go find Mom, and clear it with her, and then you can pack a bag for the weekend and we’ll have some fun?” Okay, telling Torey before asking Cynthia for permission was dirty pool, but he was tired of Cynthia’s games and he was going to see his kids.
    “Mark too?” Torey asked.
    “Of course Marcus too.” He chucked her under the chin. “Don’t make that face. He’s your brother.”
    “Exactly.” She grinned. “Mom’s in the back. You can go through there. I’m gonna go tell Mark.” She sprinted for the stairs yelling, “Hey! Butt-face!” John sighed. God, he’d missed them.
    He followed the directed route, and ended up at open patio doors. Outside, Cynthia stood on the tiled deck beside the pool, next to a slim, tanned boy in a white T-shirt and black pants. Quite innocently, of course. She was saying something about leaves in the filter. John leaned in the doorway and waited for Cynthia to notice him.
    She looked younger than the last time he’d seen her over a year ago. More tanned, more fit, a little heavier, her blonde hair cut in a shining cap. She moved with confidence, gesturing about something. California obviously suited her . Or maybe it was marriage to someone other than him that suited her. She eventually finished with the pool boy, dismissed him, turned back to the house, and froze.
    “John.”
    “Hello, Cynthia.”
    “What are you doing here? Who let you in?” She looked around as if expecting an armed assault team.
    John bit his lip. “I rang the bell. Torey let me in. She’s grown another inch.”
    Cynthia sighed. “What do you want, John?”
    “I want to see the kids. My kids.”
    “This isn’t a good time. They have plans for later.”
    “Break them.” John let a hint of his anger show through. “Cyn, I scraped together the funds for those two