Page 91 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

DEREK

After my Saturday-night shift, I head to my sister’s home, crashing on her couch as quietly as I can, hoping this temporary living situation doesn’t last much longer.

I love my sis, and she’s the only reason I’m in Lucky Falls.

But she has three kids, including an infant, and I cannot handle sleeping on a couch much longer.

My greatest love, besides family, is a fancy-ass mattress, the kind that’s smart enough to conform to your body. I slept on one once in a hotel, and it was heavenly.

This couch? It’s hell on my back, and my back is kind of important to my job.

I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable, searching for a position that won’t radiate pain down my neck. Somehow I find one, then drift into the land of Nod.

But not for long.

At three in the morning, a shriek awakens me. I bolt upright and head for the baby’s room.

My sister, Jodie, is right behind me, rubbing her eyes.

“I got it,” I tell her as I scoop up little Devon.

My sister yawns canyon-wide. “No, I’ll take care of her.”

But I give Jodie the heave-ho, shaking my head.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” I know how hard it is for her, with her husband overseas for a year, a first grader, a four-year-old, and an infant.

Our parents are gone, and that’s why I’m here.

We’re close, and I want to do what I can for her, especially when she needs it most.

“You’ve got a crazy day at the farmers market tomorrow. Your bread waits for no one. Get some sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

I pat the baby’s shoulder. “Please. I’ll take care of this perfect little angel.”

“I’ll find you a place soon, Derek. I promise.”

“I know, I know. I’ve asked around at work too. Got a few leads. Finding a rental in this fancy town is harder than differential calculus.”

“Fortunately, you were good at math.”

I smile, send Jodie back to bed, and warm up a bottle as Devon grabs my finger. “You’re going to be fine, sweet pea. I’ve got your favorite drink right here.”

Devon cries again, but it’s softened to a mere whimper. She knows the food is coming. I rub my forehead against hers. “I promise. Would Uncle Derek lie to you?”

She coos at me and grabs my beard with her chubby fingers.

I bring her to the couch, give her the bottle, and pop the new Stephen King book open on my phone as my little niece sucks down her food.

When I wake at the crack of dawn, I have a wicked crick in my neck.

“Morning,” my sister says, cheery as can be as she heads into the kitchen, tucking her brown hair into a neat bun. Molly, her four-year-old, follows behind, hopping like a frog.

“ Ribbit, ribbit , Uncle Derek,” Molly says, jumping her way to the kitchen.

“Morning.” I pull the covers back over my head as dark-haired Travis bounds down the stairs and into the room.

“Hey, Derek,” says the six-year-old with the gap-toothed grin. “Want to go play basketball?”

“Travis, give him a break,” Jodie calls out to her son.

“Later for basketball, okay, buddy?”

“Okay,” he says, seeming a little sad we’re not playing now, and a little happy we’ll do so later.

I hear Jodie start a pot of coffee. She returns to the living room and bends over the couch. “Thanks for helping last night. You’re a godsend. By the way, have I ever mentioned that a local cop works the face-painting booth at the market?”

I sit up straight, my thoughts zip-lining to one particular officer of the law. “Why are you telling me this?”

She wiggles an eyebrow. “She’s just your type.”

I throw off the covers, get in the shower, and head to the market.