ZACH HOPPED on the first step of the bleachers and hugged Dylan’s knees. He looked like a cowboy from a magazine ad—hair perfectly slicked back, creases in his jeans and a new bright red jacket. He was a sight most welcome after Dylan’s overshare with Kathy. “Can I ride Peaches?” “Of course. She’s already saddled,” Dylan said. “But first, let me introduce you to Kathy.” The woman who made him smile and caused his breath to catch. “Very nice to meet you, Zach,” she said. “Is she one of your patients?” Zach studied Kathy with the blatant curiosity of a five-year-old. “She’s a friend.” He’d known her only a short while, yet the term felt limiting. Dylan glanced back toward the path leading from the driveway. “Where’s your mom?” “She’s on the phone with Daddy Bob.” Dylan had never heard the term before and it knotted his stomach.
