Chapter 4
John entered his kitchen the next morning and stopped in the doorway. Tim sat at the table, his legs swinging back and forth, his face tight in concentration while he colored furiously. Cassie’s kid sat at his kitchen table. Her son. A son that could have been—
John jerked to attention. He was not going there. Not today. Not ever. Tim looked up and smiled a wide, easy grin. He didn’t feel like talking to a six-year-old, somewhat traumatized kid he barely knew. But…Tim was just a kid, and therefore, obviously he had to be nice to him, no matter who his mother was. He finally smiled back at Tim, whose smile ignited again.
“Where’s your mom?”
“Still sleeping. You have any Lucky Charms?”
“Never. I don’t eat crap like that for breakfast. And neither should you. How about some oat
