“Yeah, unfortunately, I gotta get this old guy home,” Tate said somewhere close. “Way past his bedtime.”

Three sets of eyes looked Mitch’s way, but all three were obviously more interested in the music man. She stuck out her full bottom lip—all three of them. “I was just about to take my break.”

“Next time, baby-doll. I promise.”

She rose up on her toes and kissed Tate’s scruffy cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Tate grinned once more as he pushed the door open to the parking lot and pulled Mitch through. Stopping on the other side, he turned and looked back. “Hey, Aubrey. You like the soul patch, right?”

Slapping the bar rag in her hand, Aubrey shrugged. “Sure. It’s kinda cute. I’ll see you next time.”

She waved and disappeared back into the bar.

The door snapped shut, and cool air washed over Mitch. He chuckled. “See? Told ya.”

Tate frowned and pulled Mitch toward his truck. “Cute is for bunny rabbits and panda bears. I am not cute.”

The world didn’t seem to want to stop spinning even out here in the cool night air. Mitch climbed into Tate’s souped-up Dodge, closed the door, and leaned his head back against the plush seat. When Tate climbed in next to him, he muttered, “If I hurl, I just want you to know it’s not personal.”

“Fuck that,” Tate muttered. The window at Mitch’s right went all the way down, and crisp air rushed over him as they pulled out of the small parking lot. “I swear to God, if you get sick in my truck, Mathews, you’ll regret it.”

“I already regret it.” Mitch’s eyes drifted closed, and he fought back the waves of nausea as the rig bounced over ruts in the road. “Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Hell if I know,” Tate mumbled. “Maybe because I know what it’s like to get your teeth kicked in by the woman of your dreams.”

Mitch’s eyes drifted open, and he looked across the cab toward his friend, pretty sure he’d imagined that response. Dim green light from the dashboard illuminated Tate’s set features and the mop of dark brown hair that was already brushing his shoulders. The guy dated a lot of women, but Mitch couldn’t remember a single one who had lasted more than a month.

Not that he cared right now. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes again, focusing on deep breaths, in and out, so he didn’t get sick. Some sappy country music floated out of the speakers, and Tate hummed along as he drove.

Mitch floated, hating the music, hating the way his stomach tossed, hating life in general. “Country music is so freakin’ depressing.”

Tate grinned. “That’s because it’s deep.”

“Thank God you don’t play it.”

“Are you saying my music lacks substance?”

“Any substance in your music’s hidden behind heavy bass and that tricky guitar shit you do.”

“I totally take offense at that.”

Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s because you listen to crap like this that makes a person want to blow their brains out.”

“You are a total peach tonight, you know that, Michelle?”

It was a familiar joke, one they’d started in college and that had lingered over the years, calling each other by their girlie counter-names. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Mitch’s lips. “As peachy as you, Tara.”

They made several turns on the island, and the music shifted to a song about football. Still country, but at least it wasn’t a depressing monologue about a man’s regrets. As the song echoed in the cab, Mitch mentally tried to figure out where they were without opening his eyes but finally gave up as his mind drifted away from his rolling stomach and floating head and resettled on the scene at his house last night with Simone.

Holy hell. He was such a fucking moron. He totally should have seen that coming. Couldn’t believe how far he’d bought into that whole stupid fairy tale.

“Damn, Mathews.” The rig drew to a stop, and Tate’s voice cut through Mitch’s self-defeating thoughts. “When you said this Simone chick was younger than you, I thought she was at least legal. Even I don’t push those boundaries.”

Mitch’s eyes drifted open, and he looked over at his friend. Tate’s gaze was locked on something out the front windshield.

Blinking several times, Mitch turned his head, then froze.

Every muscle in his body contracted, and he sat forward. “Holy shit.”

He was out of the truck in seconds, his hiking boots hitting the asphalt drive while the cool air and adrenaline rush cleared his foggy head, enough so he didn’t fall over. “Shannon? What the hell are you doing here?”

Illuminated by the headlights of the truck, Shannon swiped at her runny nose with the sleeve of her hoodie as she sat on the front steps of Tate’s new house. Tears tracked down her cheeks, and she rubbed at them with her sleeve. “I… I…”

Confusion snapped to worry, which morphed to a burst of excitement rushing through Mitch’s veins. His gaze swept from Shannon to the fancy new house, then around the parking area surrounded by trees. Simone had to be here.

“D-don’t be mad. Please?” Shannon sniffled, drawing his attention. “I just… You didn’t say good-bye. And I…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mom doesn’t know I’m here. I-I…” Wide, wet, red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. Pleading eyes. “Just…just please come back. I promise I’ll be good. I won’t get in the way.”

A car door slammed behind Mitch. Footsteps echoed. But he knew it wasn’t Simone. It was Tate, wondering what was going on.

All that excitement fizzled. Simone wasn’t here. She hadn’t changed her mind. She hadn’t come after him. But instead of the heartbroken anger he’d felt earlier, guilt consumed him. Guilt for not thinking about anyone but himself.

“Shit.” He sat next to her on the steps and wrapped an arm around her. When she threw herself against his chest and started sobbing, he just held her close, not knowing what the hell to do or say.

Tate’s footsteps drew to a stop. “How come every girl you’re with ends up crying, Mathews?”

Mitch glanced up at his friend, frowned, and flipped him the bird.

Tate chuckled.

Shannon’s sobs died down. She sniffled, then drew back and looked at Tate. Glancing at Mitch, she said, “Is that…the music guy?”

“You know Kendrick?” Mitch asked, one arm still around her.

“Yes. I mean, kinda.” She sniffled again. “Julia told me about him.”

“Julia,” Mitch mumbled. “That explains how you found me. But I’d still like to know how the hell you got all the way up here on your own.”

Shannon sat up and swiped at her cheeks. A sheepish expression crossed her features. “Julia helped me.”

“I figured. Keep going.”

She cringed. “She, ah, used her dad’s credit card to get me a plane ticket.”

“You’re ten.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “I know. She, ah, also told me how to act like I was older so I could travel without an adult.”

Tate chuckled. “Damn, but I love that kid.”

Mitch frowned. “That kid’s going to be grounded for life when her parents find out what she did.” He looked down at Shannon. “And so are you, sweetheart, when your mom realizes you’re gone.”

Tears filled Shannon’s eyes all over again. “Please? Please, can we not tell her right away? If you come back, she won’t be so mad at me.”

She collapsed into sobs against Mitch’s chest again, and he rubbed her back, knowing he should be pissed but having a hard time finding the energy.

“Bring her into the house,” Tate said. “If she gets sick out here in the cold, her mom’s really gonna hate you.”

“Her mom already does.” Mitch hefted Shannon into his arms and followed Tate inside.

A great room with a huge rock fireplace and dark wood accents opened to a kitchen beyond and stairs that led up to the second floor. Mitch sat on the leather couch in the middle of the room and held Shannon while she cried. Tate disappeared somewhere in the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, rubbing her back, not knowing what else to do to console her. Julia was never emotional like this. Instead, she just got mad and yelled. Part of him preferred the yelling, but a tiny piece liked that Shannon needed him. God knew, her mother didn’t. “I’ll call your mom and work everything out. She might be a little mad, but she’ll get over it.”

“No, she won’t.” Shannon sniffled. “I’ve messed everything up. First I made you leave, and now this.”

He drew her away from him and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. And I didn’t leave because of you. I left because…” How the hell did he explain this to a ten-year-old? He was still struggling with it himself. “Listen, Shannon. Sometimes things just don’t work out. It’s not anybody’s fault, especially yours. You’re a great kid, and I…” …wanted to be your dad. I still do. He swallowed the emotions closing his throat. “It was wrong of me to leave without telling you. I’m sorry.”

She laid her head on his chest and cried again. And, feeling like shit, Mitch just sat there and held her, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make her—or himself—feel better.

Eventually, Shannon’s sniffling died off, and she grew limp in his arms. It had to be close to three a.m. Realizing she was asleep, he laid her on the couch and pulled a throw over her, then looked down at all her curly red hair fanned out around her and remembered why he’d never wanted to have a family of his own. Because this kind of stuff killed him. The highs he could totally manage, but the lows… He wasn’t strong enough to deal with reality when the bottom fell out beneath him.

The scent of coffee beckoned from the direction of the kitchen, and he headed that way.