“Well, after we brought you home from the hospital, your mom worried and fussed over you no end. For the rest of her life, she hovered, took your side, protected you. I saw how that affected Wayne, and I tried to give him extra attention. I guess I carried that too far, especially after your mom passed. But I don’t have favorites, son. Never did. I love you both the same.”

Tyler examined the weathered face of the man whose affection and esteem he’d sought his whole life.

Apparently he’d had it all along.

His vision misted, and he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. So many mistakes, so many misguided attempts to win approval, to be noticed.

Instead, all he’d ever done was shoot himself in the foot. After his recent offenses, he didn’t deserve this hard-working, honest, ethical man’s help. He was a stupid, ungrateful no-account who—

“Hey.” His father gripped his arm, his sad, disappointed expression replaced by one of steely resolve. “Will you give me your word you’ve told me the truth—all of it—and that you’ll accept the punishment for what you’ve done?”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t hesitate.

His dad gave a sharp, decisive nod. “In that case, let’s talk about next steps.”

As his father laid out his thoughts about how to proceed, Tyler’s spirits lifted. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. That was a given. But if his father was willing to stick with him . . . if his dad trusted him to keep his promise . . . he’d suck it up and deal with whatever the future held.

Because when people believed in you, they gave you a gift all the ill-gotten money in the world couldn’t buy.

It was called confidence. And hope.

12

SHERIFF? Sorry to disturb you, but Dr. Reilly stopped by again. Do you have a few minutes?”

At Eleanor’s question, Nate swiveled away from the DUI incident report he’d been reviewing on his computer. After last night’s painful interlude with Becky, he could use a pick-me-up. A chat with Grace Reilly should do the trick.

“Yes. Go ahead and send her back.”

“Will do. Would you like a refill on your coffee?”

“I can take care of my own refills, but thank you for offering.”

“I always got Sheriff Blake’s coffee.”

“And I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“It was expected.”

“Not anymore.”

“Well . . .” The department admin adjusted the collar on her crisp blouse. “I’ll tell Dr. Reilly to come back.”

As Eleanor disappeared, Nate leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and steepled his fingers, lips curving up. No matter what crises the rest of his day brought, at least he could launch it with a few pleasant minutes in Grace’s company.

But the instant she appeared in the doorway, it was clear from the faint furrows on her brow and her taut posture that the purpose of today’s visit wasn’t pleasant.

Holding on to his smile, he rose. “Good morning.”