A man who drank too much, lied easily, and wanted the house, the truck, the insurance money, and a life with no children in it.
Especially not children who remembered too much.
“Nate,” Lily whispered, her voice shaking. “Where are we gonna go?”
The screen door creaked open again. Wade stepped onto the porch in his boots and canvas jacket, broad-shouldered and red-faced, with a beer bottle dangling loosely from one hand. He looked from Nate to Lily to Bear and sneered like he was already enjoying the silence the house would have once they disappeared into it.
“I said move,” he snapped. “And leave the dog. I’m not feeding that mutt.”
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