A Husband's Watch
At the moment, the only thing keeping Darryl Andrews from kicking the crap out of something was the fact that his foot was just about the only part of his body that didn't already hurt.
So instead he hung back close to the road, where there was nothing to kick except a few dried-up weeds, or a stray soda can, hoping maybe a little distance would make the scene easier to absorb. To accept. Slung low in a sky his oldest girl, Heather, called "forever" blue, the morning sun barely warmed his right temple through the thick wad of gauze, although the badass November wind drilled right on inside the old baseball jacket Faith'd dug out of the church's thrift shop donation box. So he wouldn't have to cut up the sleeve on one of his own coats, she'd said in that matter-of-fact way of hers, as if attending to that one little detail was the key to solving all the rest of it.
He kicked at one of the soda cans anyway, hurling it out onto the paved road to clatter mournfully for several feet before getting hooked up again in a small pile of trash across the way.
Darryl would've sucked in a breath, but his bruised ribs had other ideas. With his good hand ... read full excerpt from: A Husband's Watch ebook
