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coming.”
“You hear anything?”
Mac shook his head and took a deep swallow of something that was definitely not non-alcoholic. “Nope. Changed her cell phone, left no way to get in touch with her, and God knows she hasn’t tried to reach us.”
Ouch. Alex moved up the steps, remembering he had Aiden in his arms and wasn’t free to say all the mean, miserable, commiserative stuff he’d like to say right now. “The kids eat yet?”
Mac scowled. “What day is it?” When Alex started to answer, Mac waved him off. “I’m kidding.” He held the beer aloft. “This is my first one of my normal two-beer Sunday. I look rotten because I feel rotten but that doesn’t mean I’m going to drink myself into oblivion and ignore my boys.”
“What’s oblivion?”
Mac looked startled by Aiden’s voice. His tone softened. “It’s kind of like how your Dad didn’t pay attention to your Mom and now she’s gone.”
Alex squared his shoulders, ready to argue the point, but Aiden reached out for his father. “So maybe she’s happy now.”
Mac ’s eyes misted as he worked his jaw, accepting the child. He tightened his grip on the boy as Aiden settled himself against his father’s broad chest. “Maybe. We want her happy, don’t we?”
Aiden nodded. “But we still miss her and that’s okay.”
Alex bit back a curse as his own eyes moistened in sympathy. They weren’t criers, none of them. They were big, rough, tough, burly guys who’d survived the trials of youth to become staunch citizens. Macho men who didn’t cry, rarely sympathized, and didn’t eat quiche. It just… wasn’t done.
But here he was, watching the mix of sorrow and empathy in a little kid’s eyes, seeing Mac’s grief, and knowing he could do absolutely nothing to make things right for the friend that stood by him when no one else wanted to be near him. He swung back Nick’s way. The three-year-old looked befuddled. Alex held out a hand. “Hey, kid, toss me the ball. Let’s see if we can sharpen your skills so you can kick the—”
“Watch it.”
Alex amended his choices. “Beat your brother. Let’s try a nose tackle first.” Alex raced across the short expanse of lawn, grabbed up the little boy, tweaked his nose between big manly fingers and wrestled him to the ground, pretending to have his nose all the while. “Gotcha. Now. How about this?”
He turned the boy and tickled his ribs, making Nick shout with glee. Alex grinned down at him before hauling him up and chucking him over his shoulder, fireman style. “That’s my tickle tackle. Wanna’ see my other moves?”
“Yes.” The boy’s voice shook with anticipatory delight. “I wuv wesselwing.”
“And who’s the best wrestler of them all? Who’s Da Man?” Alex held the boy upside down, dangling him. “Answer right, kid.”
Nick giggled too hard to do more than whisper. “Huuuuulk Hogan.”
“Got it in one.” Alex righted the boy, feinted left, then right, then tackled him into the grass, rolling the pre-schooler around like a dog with a bone. “The Hulkster rules. Say it.”
“Hulkster wules.”
Alex grinned and gathered the kid in, giving him a hug. “We’re gonna work on that speech stuff, kid. Right after I grill us something to eat. You hungry?”
Nick nodded. “Yes.”
“And you?” Alex turned toward Aiden.
“I’m starving.”
Alex nodded. “Then how about I rustle us up some grub? What’ve you got in the freezer?”
Mac shook his head. “Not much. Lindi usually shopped on Saturday.”
“Well, then.” Alex grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket and speed-dialed Cruz. “Uncle Cruz can grab us some burgers or dogs. Maybe both. Or maybe a nice, juicy steak would taste better?” He posed this option to Mac.
His buddy shook his head. “Kids’ll like the burgers and hot dogs better. I’m not hungry.” The idea that Mac didn’t want to sample a wood-fired steak made Alex hate Lindi a little more. Selfish, egotistical witch.