SPARKS

Chapter Ten

Their son was exhausted. After climbing all over the jungle gym and swinging until it got dark, Joey had fallen asleep. Right in the swing. She handed over the leash to Quade and took their boy in her arms. He was so small, so delicate when he was asleep. She was sure he would grow, though. Maybe even as tall as his father.

She looked over at Quade and smiled, thinking about their son growing up to just like his father.

"Does he usually follow asleep by now?" Quade asked.

"No," she said, smiling. "Usually, we'll read after going to the park, and then he'll go to bed. But I think all the talking he did tired him out."

"That's kinda my fault." He laughed. "I wanted to get to know everything about our little guy. So far, I got that he likes trucks, his puppy dog, chocolate cake, playing at the park, and you."

Hazel chuckled. "And in that order."

"No, I don't think so. I think it's you and then everything else. Which is how it's supposed to be. You really raised him well, Hazel. You're a very good mother."

"Thank you, Quade; but I couldn't have done it without my family. They've been so supportive through all of it. Well," she laughed, "for the most part, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I had a child out of wedlock, so you can imagine what some of my family had to say. Especially my-"

"Dad," Quade finished for her. "Your dad probably hates me."

"No," she lied, clearly remembering her dad interrogating her and asking her who the guy was so that he could kill him. "He doesn't hate you. He just. . .okay, he just hates that you weren't there. But I explained the situation. So he was more pissed at me than anything else."

"For sleeping with somebody you just met."

"Yes." Hazel nodded her head. "For sleeping with somebody I just met."

"Do you regret it?"

Hazel cradled Joey to her chest, running her hands through his short, silky hair. He was so light in her arms, yet still so much heavier compared to when she had brought him home that very first day. She still couldn't believe how quickly he was growing. She loved her baby boy and wouldn't give him up for anything.

"I would have done some things a little differently," she finally said, "but I don't regret it."

They were both silent for the remainder of the walk. She wanted to know what Quade was thinking; she just didn't know how to ask. It struck her that she really didn't know all that much about him. They'd talked about trivial things that night, such as favorite movies, old nicknames, and other personal facts. But while she knew things about him, she didn't truly know him.

What made him tick. His patience when Joey didn't want to eat his breakfast. His temperament with Lucky when the dog kept stealing socks. How he acted during a traffic jam. All those things about a person that could only be learned through time.

And it scared her. It scared the living hell out of her. She had this image of Quade – this perfect, flawless image of the man she'd met three years ago – and she was sure he had the same image of some flawless version of her in his head. They didn't really know each other. It scared her.

But it was also exhilarating. Getting to know this man. The father of her son. She wanted to find out what made him tick, how he would handle both Joey and Lucky, and if he lost his cool in traffic.

As they approached the house, Lucky started yanking on the leash, excited to go play with his chew toys. Quade didn't yank back on the leash, just keeping Lucky right next to him.