Free Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) by Roxanne Snopek

bite.
    And moaned again.
    “Don’t tell the meatloaf,” she said, speaking through her food and not caring, “but this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
    “Good. I’m making it my personal challenge to get some weight back on your bones.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “Who died and made you king?”
    “Don’t you mean to say ‘You’re not the boss of me’?”
    It had always been so easy to be with Logan, she remembered. Years ago at school, he found a way to bring her out of her shell and here he was again, helping her feel comfortable again, making her feel special.
    Loved.
    She remembered kissing him under the bleachers.
    “Getting warm?” asked Logan. “A good meal will do that.”
    She nodded, but it wasn’t only the food. He was the first boy she’d ever explored physical intimacy with. They talked about going all the way, but both being virgins, agreed to wait until their one-year anniversary. To make it really special, a night to remember.
    Only she was gone by then.
    Logan waved down their waitress. “Another beer for the lady, when you have a moment.”
    With shock, Samara noticed that her glass was empty.
    “Did you drink my beer?”
    He smiled and shook his head. “You did it all by your sweet lonesome. Just like you polished off the pot pie.”
    He was right. The chicken pie was gone. A single piece of lettuce lay wilting on the salad plate. There was a breadstick in her hand and the most wonderful feeling of satiation in her belly.
    “My goodness, I’m like a hog at a trough!”
    “Now, don’t even start with that,” said Logan, reaching across to touch her hand. “I enjoyed watching you eat almost as much as you enjoyed eating. There’s nothing a man likes more than to see a woman happy. Especially if he can take the credit.”
    *
    Logan watched Sam stack their empty plates, nestling the knives and forks, folding the crumpled napkins. Her fingers were long and elegant, the nails unpolished, short and smooth. She’d been organized and tidy as a teen, a way of coping with a life filled with upheaval and uncertainty.
    But there was more to it now, and he had a feeling he knew why. He remembered the way she touched the carpet, how she checked for parallel lines and right angles, her distress at finding a rough patch on the banister.
    “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, “but what’s the deal with Jade?”
    She jumped. “Nothing. She’s fine. She’s unique. There’s nothing wrong with her.”
    “Whoa, there,” said Logan. “No offence intended. I’m just trying to figure things out. You have to admit, you’re a little overprotective.”
    He waited. Parents of special needs kids had to be highly organized and schedule-oriented. They were often frustrated and highly-defensive, too. Sadly, the desire to do the best for their children often pitted mother against father when they needed each other the most.
    But then, he’d seen that in parents of ordinary kids, as well.
    A muscle in her jaw flickered. “I don’t like labels.”
    “Has she been assessed?”
    Samara sighed heavily. “Over and over and over. She cried so much, you see. Some days it seemed like that’s all she did. We weren’t prepared, especially Michael. As she got older, the crying stopped, but they still never bonded. I was the only one who could hold her. He thought something must be wrong with her. So we went from doctor to doctor. But they all said she tested ‘within normal limits.’ We were told to take parenting classes.”
    He heard the humiliation behind the words.
    “Rough start.”
    “Michael wouldn’t take them without me, and we’d already scared off every sitter we could find, and then suddenly,” she paused for a shaky breath, “he was gone.”
    “How old was she when Michael passed away?” he asked, as gently as he could.
    “Not quite three.” She looked down at the breadstick in her hand. “I pretty much shut down for a while after that. My poor baby.”
    Poor