Page 42 of Man Advantage

Ford lifted the covers. Cole got in.

He had the phone in his hand to set the alarm when Ford’s hand came down over it.

“Don’t set it.”

“She’s up at six.”

“I know what time she’s up.” Ford’s voice was low. “She’d be fine, Cole. She’d walk in and see you here, and she’d be fine.”

Cole lay there with the phone under both their hands.

He thought about her face in the rearview mirror, and about her walking in at six and finding one more thing to explain.

“Not like that,” he said. “Not by walking in on us.”

Ford was quiet a long time.

“Okay,” he said, taking his hand back.

Cole set it for five-forty and slid it under the pillow. Ford turned onto his side, away from him.

Cole lay there and looked at his back.

He’d done the right thing. He knew he had. She was six. She’d told a stranger today that Cole was her family. She deserved to hear the rest of it from the two of them, sitting down, not from walking in on it at six in the morning. He knew all that. It didn’t stop him from lying there wondering if he’d just hurt the one person he’d never wanted to hurt.

“Ford.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You sure?”

Ford was quiet a moment. Then he rolled onto his back.

“I’m tired of feeling like we’re doing something wrong,” he said to the ceiling. “Sneaking around my own house. Listening for my own kid. Like it’s something to be ashamed of.” He turned his head. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I know.”

“You’re right about her. I know that too.” Ford found Cole’s hand under the covers. “Doesn’t make me like it.”

Cole turned toward him. Ford’s arm came back across his chest, heavy and warm. Cole covered it with his own and held on.

“Five-forty,” Ford said into his hair.

“Five-forty.”

They’d get there. Cole lay in the dark with Ford’s weight on him and let himself believe it.

SIXTEEN

Nadine had the door open before Ford got Charlotte’s backpack off his shoulder.

Charlotte went past her mother at a run, already yelling about something that had happened at lunch. Ford stood on the porch with the backpack and ran through the list. The field trip form was in the front pocket, signed. She was off dairy again. Her call, not the doctor’s. Pickup Friday, after the bus got back.

“Got it.” Nadine took the backpack. Her hair was half out of its clip, like it always was by this hour. She looked at him longer than the list needed. “You look good.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. You look rested. You’ve got two games in Fargo on a bus, and you look like a man who’s sleeping.” She leaned on the doorframe. “Ford Callahan. Are you seeing somebody?”