Chapter One
So far, of his sister’s three offspring, Lydia was shaping up to be Jake McGregor’s favorite.
She nestled in the crook of his arm, a soggy thumb in her mouth, staring in wide-eyed awe at her two older brothers. One chubby fist clutched a handful of Jake’s hair. Ten-year-old Mac was swinging his backpack with a careless disregard for the backs of the heads of his fellow passengers as he tried to hurl it into the open bin overhead.
But it was five-year-old Finn who had people begging flight attendants if they could switch flights or relocate to the back of the plane. Jake could literally feel the love. Or maybe all that love was for him, because he was carrying the squalling kid by the back of his jacket like a spare suitcase.
To add icing to the cake, he hadn’t been able to snag four seats together—he’d had to buy Lyddie her own even though she wasn’t yet two—and now he faced a conundrum. He’d thought to put Mac and Finn together while he took an aisle seat and parked the baby by the window, but logistically, it wasn’t going to work. Not with Finn wailing like a banshee and trying his best to escape whenever his sneakers touched down.
So this is hell.
Dull pain circled his eye sockets and banged against the top of his skull. He should have taken preboarding when it was offered, but hindsight was a wonderful thing. He was new to this child-raising gig and he’d thought it best to keep the boys running around the terminal as long as possible before they had to sit still for a few hours, but the joke was on him. They hadn’t burned off any energy. It turned out these two were kinetic.
They were also tired, and scared, and their whole world had been upended two weeks ago when their parents and grandparents—who also happened to be Jake’s sister, brother-in-law, mom, and dad—were all killed in a plane crash in Peru.
Maybe taking them on a plane wasn’t his smartest move, but he hadn’t known how else to get three kids from New York City to Grand, Montana. Hindsight slapped him again. Too soon, Jake. Too soon.
Mac missed the bin for the third time and was winding up for a fourth attempt when an older gentleman got out of his seat to give him a hand. A friendly blonde flight attendant scooted around them, Jake in her sights.
“Why don’t you let me hold the baby while you get the boys buckled in?” she suggested, reaching for Lydia. “Come here, sweetie.”
Lydia’s thumb popped out of her mouth. Her eyes bugged out of her head. She grabbed onto both of Jake’s ears. Then, she proceeded to compete with her brother to see who could deafen the most people. There went her tenuous run as the favorite.
Jake felt like crying himself. He was tired and scared too, yet nobody was cutting him any slack.
“I don’t wanna die!” Finn wailed, upping his game.
“That child could use a good spanking,” some old biddy sniffed.
The flight attendant knew when she was beaten. “Why don’t I go see if I can find some coloring books for the boys?” she said, and then fled.
Jake’s face burned. This mess was on him. What kind of dumbass tried to load three kids who’d just lost their parents in a plane crash onto a sketchy Dash 8 that smelled of exhaust and recycled air and looked as if duct tape might be all that held it together?
Suddenly, he’d had enough, too. He owed these kids better than this.
“Grab the bag, Mac,” he ordered, fighting to keep his grip on Finn while juggling a sobbing, drippy-nosed baby who was wiping her face in his hair. “We’re getting off.”
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