“I want to go home,” Dylan whined for the hundredth time. “I want Mommy.”
Blake glanced at the kid. His complaining was getting on Blake"s nerves. “That"s where we"re going,” he replied, deliberately being cryptic. “We"re going home.” If home is a truck stop between here and Missouri, that is.
If home is a truck stop between here and Missouri, that is.“Nuh-uh,” Dylan insisted. “My home is not in the forest.” He pointed an accusing finger at the window of the rig. Blake had ditched the "borrowed" sedan in the parking lot where his semi had been waiting.
“It"s not the forest, kid,” Blake replied. He wondered how long it would take Dylan to figure out they weren"t going back to Baylee and her husband. “It"s just some trees. Now stop bitching, okay? You"re giving me a headache.”
“I want Mo
