KEPT_ A Second Chance Fairy Tale(44)

“Yeah,” Dillon agrees. “She gets cranky.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“So, ground rules,” I interrupt. I’d already gone over them with Dillon, so his sigh of annoyance falls on my deaf ears. “There are only a few.”

Michael turns to wink at Dillon, and if he doesn’t stop working the bonding angle with my son, I won’t get through it.

I push on Michael’s chest. He steps back and allows me back into my apartment.

“Dillon,” Michael addresses. “My car is the black one with the man standing outside of it. His name is Marcus. There’s a gift for you inside. Go, sit patiently, and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Dillon’s eyes widen, already anticipating whatever gift Michael has brought him. Before he rushes out of the apartment, I pull on the back of his jersey.

“Kiss for Mom?” I ask, leaning toward him.

My once so loving son scrunches his face, reluctantly leaning in to kiss my cheek. Not about to let that fly, I grab him and hug him tight. I know there won’t be many years left for me to do this, so I take full advantage, in the presence of others or not.

Dillon snaps himself out of my hold with a flippant, “I’ll see you later.”

“Be good,” I shout out the door and to his back just as Marcus gives me a small wave before opening the car door.

When I turn around, I find Michael standing with his arms crossed over his chest. With the small growth around his jaw, his annoyed stance, and his casual dress, he doesn’t look anything like the Michael I’ve always remembered.

I’ve quickly found I like him any and all ways.

“Okay,” I firmly start my lecture. “First, make sure he gets enough water. It’s hot and he’ll dehydrate.”

“Got it.”

“Make sure he doesn’t overeat because he will if you let him.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure he says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Manners are important.”

“Lucy?” I hear him question, his eyebrows lifting in bemusement.

“Also, I know the sun’s going down, but I packed some sunblock for his face.”

“Lucy,” he says again, his voice a little sterner than before.

“One thing he doesn’t…”

Again, my words are lost.

This kiss isn’t fevered. It’s hard and punishing, clearly meant to be a message. He’s heard enough of my voice and he’s using this maneuver to shut me up.

Once he’s done what he’d hoped to do, the hair at the nape of my neck is pulled gently and I’m standing so close, I’m forced to look up.

“I’ve got this,” he assures. “I’ve got a niece. I had a son. I’m not oblivious to kids.”

“I know,” I agree.

“He’ll be fine,” he adds.

“I know.”

Michael shakes his head and grins. “All your rules are out the window, just so you know.”

“What?” I snap, squinting and waiting for clarification.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” And I do to a point. “But you’re just now meeting him. I’ve got years of experience with who he is.”

Michael lets me go and steps back to move around me. Once he’s at the door, he turns and looks me up and down again. The look on his face is carnal, if a little possessive. “What time does he go to bed?”

“Nine,” I tell him. “But he’s going to Stella’s tomorrow, so whenever you get back is fine. He’ll be tired.”

“Will you?” he questions quietly, sending shivers up and down my back.

“No,” I whisper, feeling the effects rush through the rest of my body.

“I’ll text you when we’re on our way back,” he informs me, then looks again at my chest. This time, I sense he’s not noticing the design, but what’s under it. “Be wearing that later,” he demands, his voice again raspy.

I give a mock salute and reply, “Aye aye, Captain.”

He laughs once, then closes the door behind him.




Michael

“Do you have a dog?” Dillon questions in a serious tone.

He’s sitting across the back seat from me. Each time my eyes move to the rearview mirror, I catch Marcus looking back and smiling.

“No,” I answer.

Without taking a breath, he follows up with, “Cat?”

“No.”

“Do you like the Yankees?”

No, I don’t, but telling him this would lead to more questions so, keeping it simple, I state, “Yes.”

“What’s your favorite baseball team?”

“The Cubs.”

“They’re okay,” he replies as he plays with the laces of his shoes he’s tied up twice.

He told me right away that his mom ties them too tight, so when she leaves him with Stella, he has to fix them without her knowing. The kid knows how to work his mother, and he’s only six. I smile, knowing Lucy’s going to get exactly what’s coming to her in the years that follow.

“How many Yankees games have you been to?”

“A lot.”

Not only does he know his mother, I’ve noticed he’s like her in many ways. His questions are incessant, and I’ve found myself answering them just as quickly as he asks. He’s a good kid. I wasn’t uncertain about taking him because, in my opinion, every young boy should learn the game. I was more hesitant on Lucy’s behalf. She worried I wouldn’t take care of him as she would, but she’s wrong.

Although Caleb was my son and only three when Corbin and I took him to his first game, I know how to care for a kid. It’s not science. Talk to them, feed them, and enjoy the time you have together.

Finally, once we’re pulling up to the field, Dillon grows quiet and watches the crowd in the parking lot, filing up to the stadium.

“Are you ready?” I question, pulling him from his focus out the window.

He nods and grabs his bag full of whatever Lucy deemed to pack. I can’t imagine what’s in there, but it’s not going with us.

After I’ve instructed him to leave it behind, Marcus drops us at the entrance and we head inside.

Once we make our way to our seats, directly behind home plate, the game starts. With every inning, Dillon’s excitement increases. His eyes stay trained on the players, and every now and then, he turns to ask me a question. For a six-year-old, his inquiries are of high quality. He already has a firm understanding of the game. With a little teaching, he’d enjoy being here even more.

I give him whatever he asks. Not because I’m buying his friendship or intending to impress him, but because he’s six and I’m unsure how long it’ll be before he ever sees a game again. Corbin and I had to earn these tickets, and I refuse to pay the price of season seats.

“That was so awesome,” he enthusiastically voices around a mouthful of ballpark frank.

As we walk toward the exit, I’m balancing his drink, my beer, and the souvenirs I told him to pick out. I held it to three and he didn’t ask for more.

Good kid.

“I can’t wait to come see another one,” he tells me, eyes shining in appreciation. “My mom won’t believe this.”

His mom.

I hadn’t let myself think about the way I left her at her apartment earlier. When the door opened and I took in what she was wearing, my body went on edge. I hadn’t meant to touch her. Fear of not wanting to leave held its grip. The edge I was balancing on quickly faded as Dillon made his way to us.

The promise of what’s to come after he goes to bed has kept my thoughts company.





Lucy

I’VE BEEN WAITING WITH BATED breath for the boys to return since Michael texted me the picture of Dillon holding a box of popcorn and downing a drink of bottled water. His concentration was forward so, in his profile, I saw his cheeks were red, but he looked so overwhelmingly happy, I could hardly control my smile.

Dillon’s head is on Michael’s shoulder and his arms are limp at his sides as Michael walks the small way from the parking lot to my front porch. I’m standing just outside my door, but I can see my son is out.

Raising my arms, I make an attempt to grab Dillon from his hold, but Michael stops me, holding his hand in the air. “I’ve got him. Show me to his room,” he whispers so as not to wake him.

Nodding, I walk in front of him and down the dimly lit hallway. Once we reach the bedroom, Dillon wakes momentarily. He pulls himself off Michael’s chest, looking worn and tired, and glances around. Once he finds me standing there, he closes his eyes once again and lets Michael lay him down in bed. Instantly, he rolls over and curls into himself the way he always does.

“I’ll get him changed for bed after you leave,” I whisper, carefully removing his shoes.

“Let him sleep in the jersey. It’ll remind him how much fun he had tonight.”

“You wore him out,” I note with a smile.

Watching Michael still standing so close to Dillon is more than enough to take my breath away. I hate comparing the two men I’ve spent time with in my life, but it’s hard not to do. Gabe had so little time with Dillon. All evening, I thought about what it would’ve been like for him to be here taking him to his first game. My heart ached when I realized if Gabe were still here, I wouldn’t know Michael.