Page 55 of Hearts Don't Lie
Hardin nodded and cracked a grin, his heart swelling with happiness. Their son sounded so much like Mac at times. It was fantastic.
Standing in the stream under the shimmering sun and impervious to water thanks to his waders and wading boots, he became transfixed with the quiet. Hardin’s worries fell away. He was grateful for the hat, sunscreen, and his sunglasses. But he was even more grateful to have this time with his son. To watch him out of the corner of his eye and learn his movements, enjoy his voice and humor and snark. He had a lot of that, typically delivered with a smirk.
All of them took a break from fishing when it was evident the fish weren’t biting and the boys claimed they’d die if they didn’t eat soon. They found boulders to sit on under the dappled shade and had lunch.
“We’ll head up to Slate Lake,” Mike said after finishing off his barbecue. “We can escape the heat, fish, and enjoy the views. Hardin, a lake is actually a better place to start. It’ll be easier for you to pick up any tugging.”
“That’s where I started, but you did really good this morning.”
Hardin smiled at Stowe. “Thanks, sport.”
“Bro, he called you sport!”
Oh shit. Did I mess up?
Stowe rolled his eyes at Beckett. “I can hear, you know.”
“No one calls you anything but Stowe or Bro.” Some of his masticated sandwich fell out of his mouth.
“Honestly, Beck. Where are your manners?” Mike said, sounding disgusted.
Beck wiped at the mess, getting nowhere until Mike handed him a napkin.
“There’s always room for another nickname. I kinda like it.” Stowe gave Hardin a measured look. “Isn’t Bro your nickname?”
“Yep.”
“Youarerelated!” More food fell out of Beckett’s mouth.
“Drop it, Beck. In fact, why don’t you start loading the car after you swallow what’s in your mouth? Stowe, can you get the rods and boxes?”
“Sure.”
Hardin was astounded. Mike had easily halted the line of questioning and separated the boys, protecting Stowe from an onslaught of comments and conjecture.
“Sorry. That wasn’t appropriate. Beck was just being Beck. Out of order. Kenna told us this had all just come about.”
“Yeah.” Hardin’s eyes moved to where Stowe gathered the rods and organized the tackle box and then to where Beckett loaded the cooler and picnic supplies. “I didn’t know about him, and he didn’t know about me. Mac—sorry, Kenna—was trying to protect him, and she had the best of reasons.”
“Are you angry with her?”
“No, man. I love the hell out of her. I always have, and now I’m just trying to find a way to make this all good, to be with her and Stowe.” Hardin glanced over to where the boys were at the Range Rover, laughing about something. “They always get on so well?”
“Pretty much. Cori and I will sit Beck down and talk to him. Help him understand the sensitive nature of what’s going on.”
“I appreciate that. Mac and I are trying to navigate this carefully. She’s better at it than me.”
“From what I’ve seen today, you do pretty well. Keep giving him the space and he’ll come around. He’s a great kid, and I’d say that even if I wasn’t his uncle.”
“Thank you doesn’t even seem enough for everything you and Cori and Issa and Doc and so many others have done for Mac and Stowe.”
“And just to be clear with you, Hardin, I consider her family, my sister-in-law. We do anything for those we love.”
“Yes, we do.” Hardin lifted his chin and nodded.
Mike regarded him with a serious look. “She won’t move.”
“She won’t, but I will.”
