Home At Last

She sounded so disturbed by the notion that he found himself wondering what she expected. A police lineup? Handcuffs and mug shots? “That’s not gonna happen,” he assured her, “as long as Brad lets Max take the kids.”

Kirsten stood up, still clutching the pillow she’d been holding. “But they’d wind up at a police station?” she demanded. “With criminals all over the place?”

“They’re not gonna put children in with criminals!” It was obvious this woman had never been in a police station, but the reassurance didn’t seem to help. “Anyway, you and I won’t be that far behind. It’s just that Max is four hours closer to Ashland.”

Kirsten scrunched the pillow and dropped it on the bed, then turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “But we know right where they’re going,” she said, “and they can’t be going very fast. So why can’t we just catch up with them ourselves?”

They probably could, only it made more sense to enlist all the help they could get. Even the simplest of jobs could fall apart if you didn’t plan some backup. “Kirsten, look, I know you’re worried, but you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” she exploded, startling him with the passion in her voice. “You don’t know my children! You’re thinking like a detective, and that’s fine because that’s what you are, but you’re not their mother—I mean their father—” Then she broke off, looking suddenly horrified. As if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Thank God for that, right?” J.D. interrupted lightly, hoping to return the color to her face. He’d never realized she knew how strongly he felt about avoiding parenthood—not that someone from a family like his could feel any other way—but she was obviously concerned about hurting his feelings. Which was typical of Kirsten, who already was scrambling to apologize.