The Other Twin

“THE BUTTHEAD’S MOVING IN,” Josh said under his breath, climbing into his chair.

Cheryl’s eyes went wide. “What did you say?”

Josh looked at her through thick blond eyelashes. “Nothin’.”

“Don’t you use that kind of language. Ever.” She slid a grilled-cheese sandwich on his plate and added celery and carrot sticks. It wasn’t the most creative meal, but now that it was June, the temperatures had skyrocketed.

“I can’t help what he is.” Josh squirted ketchup on his plate.

“Are you looking to lose television privileges?” Again.

What had happened to her compliant boy? She didn’t want him to be afraid anymore, but she didn’t want disrespect, either. Rubbing her temples didn’t stop the headache brewing.

“How was camp?” she asked.

He shrugged.

This wasn’t normal. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He swirled a carrot stick in his ketchup.

Yuck. She cut his grilled cheese into four triangles. “Something’s bothering you.”

He slammed his hand on the table. “Zach’s my friend. But he and Dustin ran off together. I didn’t have nobody help me find bugs.”

“Anybody.” She sighed. “Did you ask them both to work with you?”

He shrugged. “Zach didn’t keep his word. He’s a bu—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. At least she knew why he was in a bad mood.

“Zach and Dustin get to play together after camp ’cause they live next to each other. Why can’t we live in a house?” He smashed his sandwich into the ketchup. “Why do I have to live here? I never play with nobody. I want a dog.”

She took a deep breath, trying for calm. They’d had this conversation. “You can invite a friend over on my next day off.”

“You never get days off. Other guys have moms and dads. They do stuff all the time.” He jabbed his carrot into his sandwich. “I’m stuck here.”

“That’s not true.” Her teeth ground together. “I’m off Monday. You can have a friend come over Sunday night and we’ll do something fun.” Something that didn’t cost money.

“I can?” Josh looked her in the eye.

“Yes.” Was she bribing her son into a good mood?

“I’ll call Zach after dinner.”

The rest of the meal was normal. At least, Josh was happier.

After they cleaned the dishes, Josh took her cell phone into the living room.

She pulled out a basket and added fruit, cheese and some sausage. It already held cookies and banana bread. Tying on a big yellow bow, she smirked. He didn’t expect a “welcome to the neighborhood.” Wouldn’t Nathan Forester be surprised?

Josh was still on the phone with his friend, a big smile on his face.

“I’m taking this next door,” she said.

He nodded, his hands waving as he talked to Zach.

She unlocked the door and hoisted the basket. Time to greet—or irritate—her neighbor.

The banging had stopped. Maybe Nathan was gone and she could leave the basket at his door.

She rounded the corner and found his door wide open. Luck was never with her.

The only time she’d been lucky had been when she’d met Brad. Being with him had made her forget Mama’s drinking. And Josh was her lucky charm. He made her count her blessings every day.

She knocked on the door frame.

“Come on in,” Nathan called.

Boxes filled the hall. In the living room, Nathan sprawled in a recliner, a bottle at his lips. Empty beer bottles, along with a six-pack and a pizza carton, sat on a stack of boxes.

He’d stripped off his T-shirt. Good lord, the man was ripped. A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts.

She lifted the basket. It blocked the view of the six-pack. Both six-packs. “Welcome.”

Nathan grinned. Then shook his head as if he’d gotten water in his ears. “You brought me a basket? With a big bow?”

Since she didn’t see any table space, she set it on the floor. “Enjoy.”

She turned to leave.

Before she could go, he was out of the chair and had grabbed her hand. “Thanks.”

She wrenched herself out of his grasp.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He held up his hands. “I forgot. You don’t like to be touched.”

She scooted back and hit the living room wall.

“Or crowded.” He shoved his hand through his hair. The blond mass looked like he’d been doing that all night. “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day.”

“It’s...fine.” She straightened, pretending his closeness didn’t bother her. But her chest was so tight she could barely draw a breath.

“It’s not fine. My mom would have my head.” He sighed. “I thought you were trying to get Abby not to rent to me.”

“Oh.” He was right. “I brought a peace offering.”

He pointed at the basket, a grin lighting his face. “What did you bring me?”