“Uncle Tim. I’m still hungry,” Max said.
Tim’s eyes fell closed. He took a deep, steadying breath. The kid’s whine had cut right through him. A headache pounded in his temples. “At least you’re not out in the rain anymore,” he snapped. Why did people have kids?
With multiple holes in the roof, the cabin barely sheltered them, but Tim hadn’t remembered that when he headed for his old party spot. As a teenager it had held more charm. He kicked an empty whiskey bottle out of he way.
Max remained silent, looking sullen. Tim glared at him and the boy looked away, his arms wrapped around his slender body. He shivered in his rain slicker.
Tim couldn’t wait to ditch the kid. Why did ever think he could take care of a child better than Chelsea?
He flicked open his cell phone and dialed Chelsea’s number. She answered on the second ring. It sounded like a party in the background.
“It’s Tim.”
“You bastard. Where are you? Let me talk to Max,” she shouted.