Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Spencer sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed, facing me.
“He just needs some time.”
“Time to do what?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. But it’s not just you he’s avoiding; it’s me, too.”
“Why?”
“That’s a good question. But he’s a bit like a lone wolf. Me? I want to live in a house full of people. I want to work with children and teachers every day.
“Flynn’s more content on his own. But he never stays away for too long.” Judging from the expression on Spencer’s face, this period apart was longer than most. “He’ll come around when he’s ready.”
It struck me as sad that Flynn was alone over there when his family was here. I hoped I wasn’t the cause of his absence. Tentatively, I tried to find out more about the situation. “Did he… has he seen some bad things?”
“Bad things?” Spencer echoed.
“With his career, I mean. Has he been in some rough spots?” I didn’t even know what branch of the military he’d been in, or whether he’d ever been in a war zone.
“I guess so,” Spencer said. “But most of it’s been good.”
“Is it like, PTSD? Is that why he needs to be alone sometimes?”
“PTSD?” The confusion on his face made it clear that one of us wasn’t communicating very well. Since I was the one on pain meds, it was probably me.
“From his military service.”
“What?”
“Nana told me that he was a vet.”
Spencer’s mouth formed a perfect O of surprise, and then he burst into laughter. He laughed so loudly that Lucas came running in with Charlotte on his heels. “What’s going on?” the little boy asked.
That was an excellent question.
“He’s a veterinarian,” Spencer finally managed to say.
Oh.
Crap.
Now I felt like a moron.
“Tell Alyssa what Uncle Flynn’s barn is like,” Spencer told his children, clearly trying not to laugh again.
“It’s awesome,” Lucas said. “He’s got a donkey and horses and a pig and everything.”
“And horses,” Charlotte said in her slow, clear voice. I wondered if she’d not heard her brother, or if she was just reiterating what she considered the most important part.
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said, and then signed something.
“Alyssa can’t understand you,” Spencer said.
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Uncle Flynn takes me riding almost every weekend.”
“He has some horses that are his and some that people leave with him,” Lucas added.
“Oh. So he stables people’s horses for them?”
“Actually, he’s a large animal vet,” Spencer told me. “So sometimes people bring their sick animals to him, or sometimes they bring them to the veterinary clinic at the university. That’s where Flynn finished his degree.”
“And that’s where he met Mommy, right dad?” Lucas chimed in.
“It is.” It was clear that Spencer didn’t have any qualms about talking about his late wife in front of the kids. “And then I came down to visit Flynn, met Corinne, and the rest was history.”
“They fell in love,” Charlotte said, with a sigh. “Mom liked riding horses, too.”
I addressed the kids. “How does your uncle find time to build decks and be a veterinarian?”
“He just does,” Lucas said. “He also made my blocks.”
There was an impressive set of blocks in the living room. I’d seen them when being carried in or out of the house. The set included rectangular pieces, cylinders, ramps, arches, and more. I would’ve killed for blocks like that when I was a kid.
“He works part-time,” Spencer clarified. “Sometimes at the clinic, but mostly caring for animals at his place.” I was glad to learn more about Flynn, but that still didn’t explain why he was keeping his distance now.
I couldn’t help thinking about it all through dinner—which was delicious in an incredibly spicy way—and after I went to bed, falling into a tired but contented sleep.
At least until something woke me later that night.
I checked the time on my phone—it was after eleven, and there was noise coming from the kitchen. Was it one of the kids getting a glass of water? Or maybe Spencer or Raphael couldn’t sleep?
Then I heard a thump and a muffled voice say, “Shit!”
That’s when I knew. It wasn’t Spencer’s voice or Raphael’s. It was a deep, rumbly, currently pissed-off voice. I was pretty sure it didn’t belong to anyone in this house.
There were more noises, and something that sounded like a plate being set on the counter. A few minutes later, the night visitor exited through the door to the deck.
It had to be Flynn. Had he come over for a midnight snack? Or maybe just a late dinner? According to the others, he usually ate with them each evening. Did his veterinary duties give him time to cook for himself, now that he wasn’t eating over here?
That wasn’t right. This was his family, not mine. And if I was the one keeping him away, I needed to fix that.