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“Fuck, are we ever going to get there?”

Shane glared at Boone in the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to scold him on his language, but what was the point? Boone probably only swore more to piss Shane off.

They’d made it to Denver, eaten lunch, and walked around town a bit. Micah had slowly eased hisShane is the devilattitude, and Shane hadn’t been able to resist buying him a cowboy hat.

Micah wore it now in the back seat as Shane navigated traffic for the baseball game.

“What, you worried about missing batting practice? Didn’t remember your having much patience for baseball,” Gavin said.

Boone shifted in the seat. “Sitting and walking around is killing my leg. You try getting trampled by bulls and then being shoved into a tin can of a back seat.”

“How many bones have you broken?” Micah asked, though Shane noticed there was an odd note to his voice. Not that same hero worship, but something more . . . calculated. Weird.

“Lost count somewhere along the way. Bet I’ve got a fan out there who could tell you though,” Boone offered.

Shane tried not to roll his eyes.

“Mom’s had a ton of broken bones too,” Micah said.

“Yeah, she a brawler on the side?” Boone asked, tousling Micah’s hair.

There was a beat of silence, and, when Shane glanced in the mirror again, Micah’s gaze was right on his. “My dad,” he said precisely, carefully, as if he really wanted Shane to get those two words lodged into his brain.

Shane couldn’t make sense of it at first, but a dread crept around the edges as it slowly clicked into place. The air in the car seemed to grow heavier as they all came to realize what Micah meant.

The truck hit the rumble strip, and Shane had to rip his gaze back to the road. He had to think, and breathe. Funny, he couldn’t manage it until he cleared his throat. “Your dad . . .” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t physically push the words out of his mouth.

“Used to beat her up all the time,” Micah said, as though talking about a slight inconvenience. “Only did it to me once.”

Christ. He wasn’t sure if he thought the curse or said it out loud. Shane stared hard at the road. He could feel Ben’s gaze on him, but Shane had to focus on navigating the baseball game traffic.

No one said anything else, not as he drove, not as he parked. They filed out of the truck in a grim silence. Micah was the only one who seemed okay.

Shane didn’t know what to do with that any more than he knew what to do with the information.

They started walking for the stadium entrance, Ben and Boone flanking Micah and Gavin and Shane walking behind them. While jovial attendees filed in around them, their little group was completely silent as they handed over their tickets at the gate, then found their seats.

“Hey, you want to come with me to get some snacks, kid?” Ben asked, standing and looking around.

“Sure,” Micah offered, following Ben back up the stairs.

Shane let out a breath he hadn’t realized had been caught in his chest. He couldn’t . . . It didn’t . . .

“You didn’t know?” Gavin asked in a low tone.

Shane shook his head once. He couldn’t manage anything else. Couldn’tfathomthis. What it meant. Why she wouldn’t . . . Why hadn’t shetoldhim?

“Guess she’d have her reasons,” Boone offered.

Reasons? For keeping something likethatfrom him? He couldn’t fathom what reasons she’d have.

How could she have . . . How could that vibrant, happy, sexy as hell woman have . . . How could she have survived it? Come out of it and still been . . .

He didn’t even know, because he didn’t know what she’d been through. He had a twelve-year-old’s perspective. God, he wanted to believe that perspective was wrong, but too many things made sense.

The way she’d reacted to his lecture to Micah on violence. The way she went pale when he gave her a compliment.He didn’t want us.