Hold On Tight(17)

“I made a Pop-Tart,” Micah announced. “You want one?”

Dewayne smiled brightly, and if I had been expected to speak, I wouldn’t have been able to. I hadn’t seen that smile in years. The devastating effect it had on me was still just as powerful.

“Never turn down a Pop-Tart,” Dewayne replied, and Micah grabbed his hand.

“Then come on into the kitchen. I’ll fix you one,” he said, tugging Dewayne behind him.

Dewayne’s expression of amazement as he looked at Micah made my heart squeeze. His dark brown eyes lifted to meet my gaze, and I managed to smile at him. But I didn’t get emotional and weepy at the sight of him with Micah. I controlled myself. “You’re better than on time. You’re early,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

This was a big moment for Dewayne. Micah, too—he just didn’t know it yet. After today I had no doubt that Dewayne would adore Micah.

“Didn’t want to run you late. I’m trying to win the Saturday sitter gig,” he said with a crooked grin.

The idea that Dewayne wanted to watch Micah every Saturday made me almost choke on my coffee. I hadn’t expected that.

“Don’t you work for your dad?” I asked, looking down at his shirt, then back up at him. Maybe I was assuming too much from the shirt. For all I knew he could be a lawyer. I highly doubted it with his dreadlocks, tattoos, and piercings, but I didn’t know much about Dewayne. Not anymore.

“No, I run the company now. It’s mine. Dad had to step down,” he replied. “I don’t work Saturdays.”

Nodding, I held the coffee mug to my lips to give me a barrier. Not that it was much of one, but I didn’t know what to think of Dewayne.

“You can have this Pop-Tart that I just made. I’ll make another for me,” Micah told him as he stood on the chair, holding out a paper plate with one Pop-Tart on it. “Milk’s in the fridge. The good kind. Momma don’t buy that watered-down stuff.”

Grinning, I reached for my purse, then walked over to kiss Micah good-bye. “I’ll see you after lunch. Be good for Dewayne, okay? I love you,” I told him.

“Wait!” he called out, turning around on the chair and holding up his fist for me to bump. His big grin warmed everything inside me. I set my mug on the counter and tapped his fist with mine. “Dynamic Duo,” we said in unison.

“Love you, Momma,” he said, then turned back to the toaster.

“Love you more,” I replied.

I picked up my mug, then glanced back at Dewayne. He was watching me intently. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he was thinking about it hard.

“I need to go. You two have fun. I’ve left my work and cell number on the fridge if you need me,” I told him, then headed for the door.

It wasn’t easy to walk away, but I knew Micah needed this. And so did Dewayne.

DEWAYNE

Last night I stayed up most of the night letting one fear after another keep me awake. My biggest fear was for Micah’s happiness. After watching Sienna with him this morning, I realized that what I’d thought was her being mental had actually been her being an overprotective mother. She loved that kid. And he loved her. That much was obvious.

But it still didn’t explain why she hadn’t told me about Micah. Why she hadn’t contacted my parents. That was another thing—I hadn’t told my parents yet. They were gonna see my truck over here today, and either my momma was gonna come knocking at the door, or I was gonna need to take Micah over there. Problem was, I was afraid my momma was gonna see what I’d missed the first time I looked at him.

Dustin had been her baby, so it would be easier for to make the connection when she saw his eyes and smile on Micah. She’d know. Immediately, she’d know. If I told her this was Sienna’s boy, she would know. But I also knew she wouldn’t say anything to Micah. She’d rail my ass later for not telling her as soon as I figured it out. But she wouldn’t upset the kid.

It was probably best that I go ahead and deal with my mother before she came over here.

“Momma normally makes cinnamon rolls on Saturdays, but she gots to work on Saturdays now. She used to not have to work on Saturdays when we lived in Fort Worth. But our apartment there was so small. I like it better here. Just wish she didn’t have to work,” Micah said as he jumped down from the chair and pulled it behind him back to the table. I had a feeling I was going to find out a lot about his life today without even prying or asking questions. The kid just shared whatever was on his mind. No filter at all.

“She just has to work half the day. That’s not too bad,” I said, taking the seat across the table from him after pouring two glasses of whole milk. That must have been what the kid meant by “the good stuff.” Dustin had always called whole milk “the good stuff.” He complained that everything else was watered down. I liked that Sienna had passed that down to his son.