For Connor’s sake, she had to find a way to put the past behind her. Starting now. She opened the door for him, and when Connor saw the tower of cartons, he jumped up and down in his playpen. “Uncle Hunter!” he said, pointing. “Big blocks? Blocks for Conner?” Chuckling, Hunter peeked around the stack. “They’re boxes, buddy, not blocks.” His expression went from pleasant to dour as he shifted his attention to Brooke. “Where do you want these?” This didn’t seem the time to issue a half-baked apology. She cleared a space near the closet. “Just drop them here.” And when he did, Connor said, “Boxes go boom.” One glance at Connor was all it took to soften Hunter’s hard expression. “C’mere, you li’l pip-squeak,” he said, lifting Connor high into the air, “before your jumping tears that playpen apart at the seams!”
