“Noah!” His son’s name screeched through the sunshine. A car, the road, the hill. Jesus, God, please no.
Just when he thought everything was lost, Ari was there, barring Noah’s way, her fists on the handlebars. “Now, Noah, you know the rules. You need to stay up top,” she said, chiding him softly. As if nothing cataclysmic or life-threatening had happened.
As if Matt hadn’t just lost years off his life.
“Did you see that, Matt?” Somewhere through his haze of fear and fury, he vaguely noticed that Ari and Noah beamed at him with excitement shining in their eyes. “Noah can ride without training wheels. We’ve been practicing so he could surprise you.” She didn’t seem at all frightened by what had almost happened. “He did great, don’t you think?”
It was hardly even a question. She simply expected Matt to agree, to congratulate Noah on his new skill—and to congratulate her for helping his son.
But Matt still couldn’t see straight. Not when the only thing in his vision was what might have been.
Noah crushed beneath a car.
Noah with broken limbs.
Noah with brain damage like Jeremy.
And not when all he heard were the things his father had shouted at him on that day long ago, as his arm screamed in pain and tears streaked his cheeks. Insults and abuse that were seared into Matt’s soul as deeply as his mother’s refusal to step in and help had been.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” His voice was so deadly cold, so brutally sharp, that Ari stopped short, her smile instantly disintegrating.
“In my classes I learned it’s normal for a child Noah’s age to begin riding without training wheels. Plus, I did some research on the Internet. And Jorge can do it,” she added so softly that he had to read her lips over the rush in his ears.
“I don’t give a damn about Jorge or your freaking classes or what the hell the Internet says.”
He cursed, a four-letter word he’d never said in front of his son. But he threw it at her like a punch—then watched as Ari reeled from the blow.
“He isn’t ready to lose his training wheels.” Each word was a bullet. “Anything could have happened. Did you see how close he got to the road?”
“But I was there to hold on to him. To make sure he was safe.” She paused, swallowing hard before adding, “I’ll always be there for him.”
“How the hell do you know you’ll always be there?” he raged, his voice startling birds off their branches. She could never know what Noah might do in a split second. She could never protect him from everything, which was what Matt had vowed to do the moment his son was born.
Anguish tore her face, and she opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, “I take care of him like he’s my own child. You know that.”
“He’s not your child.” Matt couldn’t stop himself from shouting. “I’ll say when he’s ready to take off his training wheels or his water wings. Not you.”
A cloud passed over the sun, over her face, over Noah. The silence that fell at the end of Matt’s tirade was so sharp it sliced them all to ribbons.
“You’re right,” Ari finally said. “He’s not my child. I’m just the nanny.” Each word from her lips sounded more hollow. More bleak. She leaned down to Noah. “It’s time to get off the bike, sweetheart.” Once Noah had, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, then, leaving them both, she headed back up to the hill to the garage.
Ari didn’t cry as she brought the training wheels back from the garage along with a screwdriver. The horror of it all had dried up her tear ducts.
“I’m sorry. I made a mistake. You should put them back on.”
“Daddy?” Noah whimpered.
But Matt didn’t move to comfort his son, he simply screwed the wheels back into place, anchoring the bike.
How the hell do you know you’ll always be there?
Ten words. But they were more than enough to put her in her place.
He’s not your child.
God, how could she ever have forgotten? Just because she wanted Noah and Matt to be hers didn’t mean they were. All the longing in the world didn’t mean she’d ever truly belong with them. One night at a party with the Mavericks didn’t mean she was part of the family.
“But Daddy, I was real good.” Noah turned from his father to Ari. “Right, Ari?”
She couldn’t answer him. Her vocal cords were swollen too tight. All she could do was nod.
Matt ratcheted down the last screw. “I saw how well you did, but I still want the training wheels on.”
“It’s not fair!” Noah scrunched up his face and ran from both of them, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re not nice, Daddy!”