Free Summer Lovin': A Wounded Hearts Novella by Jacquie Biggar Page A

wasn’t his fault it took a lot to live these days. Speaking of which… where the hell were they? Usually the youngest one was driving him up the bend by now with the noise he made. He’d had to lay down the law a couple of times already. Pete rubbed his bristly jaw and thought about the welts he’d caused on the kid’s back. Remorse rode the waves of discomfort rolling in his gut. He hadn’t meant to, he weren’t no molester. It’s just the noise about drove him nuts. The kid would learn. He’d better. They were a team now; they had to figure out how to get along.
    He staggered back down the hall, his legs still unsteady, and gave Davey a shove, frowning when the hooch sloshed over the rim of the glass. He snagged it as the other man moaned and groaned the stupor away.
    “What the hell, man?” Davey whispered, his voice hoarse.
    “Get up. You gotta help me find those brats.”
    Davey wiped the drool off his face. “Fuck, man, they’re probably out in the yard. What’s the big deal?”
    Pete sucked back the booze, closing his eyes to relish the shiver that worked its way down his spine. “The deal is that I said it’s time to git up.” He kicked the leg of the chair. “Now move.”
    Davey shot him a death wish glare laced with uncertainty—guy was smarter than he looked—and lurched to his feet. “Whatever, man.”
    Satisfied, Pete threw open the door and growled as the light pierced his eyeballs. Shit, that hurt.
    When he thought he could move without his head exploding, he pitched down the stairs and into the dirt yard. Nothing stirred. What the hell? He waved Davey around the other side and then went left himself, heading for the kid’s homemade sandpit. Nothing but a damn Tonka toy. He picked it up and hurled it into the trees just as Davey showed up shaking his head.
    He was gonna kill those little fucks.

Chapter Seventeen
    B y the time Rebecca arrived home from the hospital she was tired and sore, but relieved Jasper’s ankle had turned out to be a bad sprain, instead of broken. The kids were in her living room now, eating grilled cheese sandwiches with giant glasses of milk, and watching superhero cartoons while she… she was finally having that hot bath she’d been dreaming about.
    And boy , did it feel good.
    She leaned back in the clawfoot tub and closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time in days. Aching muscles sang hallelujah as the warm water and soapy bubbles did their job. Her lips twitched at the muted sound of the television and childish laughter coming from the other room. Ever since her mom bought a condo in the new senior’s subdivision, Rebecca had been alone in the house. She thought she liked it that way, but this was… nice.
    Jack had cleared it with Social Services so the boys could come home with her. Eventually more permanent arrangements would have to be made, but for now at least, they were safe. Unfortunately, cases like this happened all too often. Working within the school system, teachers and staff were often the first line of defense for children like Tommy and Jasper. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair, it just was.
    She ran a finger along the scar under her ear and remembered a time when she’d been grateful for a teacher’s intervention. If it were up to her no child would ever go hungry or be afraid in their own home. Tommy was too young to have to take on the responsibility of his brother. He’d done the best that he could.
    Mr. Lee called the hospital while they were there and reassured her there would be no charges, but he wanted Tommy to come and help at the store to make up for what he’d done. Tommy had been stunned when she’d relayed the message. Obviously, he was used to a more substantial punishment. Not any more. Not if she had any say in the matter.
    Rebecca woke sometime later, chilled. She sat up, sloshing water against the sides of the deep bathtub. Her hair had slipped its topknot and now lay suctioned against her goose-pimply arms