5. Kit
5
KIT
If you had said I’d be looking forward to attending a fourteen-year-old girl’s birthday party, I would have laughed in your face. But Stevie McAvoy was special. She understood my son better than most adults and never acted like he needed to be more or less than what he was.
Speaking of Reed, he’d been gearing up to go to Stevie’s party with me, and it’ve been the first time he met her family and friends. Unfortunately, he’d accidentally ripped his Totoro backpack yesterday, and this morning he dropped his iPad, cracking the screen. Having two of his critical adaptive tools go down so close together was not great.
I’d hoped he had time to work through it in time for the party, especially since Cynthia had sewn a patch into the backpack, but when she opened the door, I could tell by the press of her lips it wasn’t going to happen.
“He hasn’t come out of his room,” she said, running her hand through her hair.
That gesture carried a bittersweet sort of weight with it, mostly because it was Cyn’s unselfconscious gestures that I’d fallen in love with. More recently, though, I was beginning to feel neutral about our story, even philosophical.
Returning from my mental wanderings, I removed my hat. “Do we need to get him a new iPad?”
Brandy, Cynthia’s wife, shook her head. “It’s a simple screen repair. I already took it to the guy in Wimberley Square, and he’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, genuinely grateful for how seriously she took his need for communication and for having the proper tools. Brandy had always been that way, but it was easy to overlook, so I tried to remember to show her how much I appreciated it. “He has the app on his phone, right?”
Their exchanged looks were an entire conversation.
“Something wrong?”
Cynthia’s jaw tightened. “He’s insisting the app doesn’t look the same or have his favorite pre-saves, and he hates it.”
“Want me to go in and talk to him?”
“If you think it’ll help,” she said, gesturing toward his room.
This was why I’d hesitated to give my blessing for him to move into the barn apartment. On one hand, he was having an entire meltdown about a temporary situation, but on the other, he had taken himself to his room to process through it on his own. And maybe his mom didn’t need to be there every time he had to work on something difficult. It certainly weighed on her, more than it did me because he lived here full time.
I walked back to his room and stood in his open doorway. “Reed? How’re you doing, buddy?”
Need my iPad , he signed, curling in on himself as he rocked back and forth. iPad, iPad, iPad.
“Brandy is getting that for you as quickly as she can. You’ll have it by tomorrow, promise.”
I definitely shouldn’t have made that promise, because any number of things could delay it, but sometimes you made promises in the moment.
iPad, iPad, iPad.
“Can you talk to me about why you don’t want to use the app on the phone?”
He rocked violently as he let loose a flurry of hand gestures I could barely keep up with.
Small. Wrong feeling. Not the same. Different colors. No saved phrases. Doesn’t have my voice. Want my iPad back.
“Okay, son. I hear you. We’re getting the iPad back to you as quickly as we can, but you know what I’m about to say.”
No. No meltdown protocol.
I signed back, Yes . Meltdown protocol.
Not fair.
You came in here, that’s good , I assured him, then switched back to talking. “But if you can’t initiate the actual meltdown protocol, how are we supposed to trust you with your own apartment?”
That got his attention. Reed stilled the violent rocking and looked at me, his head tilted. You let me move into the apartment?
“I was considering it. But I need to know you’re working on managing your reactions when things don’t go your way, and I need to see that you’re willing to ask for help when you can’t do it.”
He started rocking back and forth again, this time more deliberately as he considered my words.
I came in here by myself.
“I know, and I’m so proud of you for that. But coming into the room isn’t enough.”
After a moment, he stood up and went to his dresser. He turned on the old-school disc player, fished my old Enya CD out of the binder covered in Studio Ghibli stickers, and then inserted it into the slot. Walking up to the carved wood piece that matched my headboard, he closed his eyes and began his somatic breathing process as he traced the intricate pattern.
“I’m going to Stevie’s birthday party. Do you want me to wait a little longer and see if you can come with me? I know she wants to see you, but she’ll also understand.”
He kept his eyes shut as he paused his trace work to sign, No . Tell her about my iPad. She’ll understand.
“You got it, buddy. I’m proud of you.”
He sent me a thumbs up as if to dismiss me, and I slowly backed out of his room, shutting the door behind me.
I walked back into the living room to his two concerned mothers. “Well?” Cynthia asked.
“Meltdown protocol.”
“Did he go willingly?”
“Not initially. But then I explained that his unwillingness to emotionally regulate himself makes us hesitate to give him the apartment.”
“You dangled the apartment?” Brandy asked. “Playing dirty. I like it.”
She held up her hand, and I grinned as I gave her a high five.
Cynthia looked between the two of us, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know if I approve of this level of cooperation between you two.”
“Can’t help it.” I shrugged as I fit my hat back onto my head. “All the lesbians love me.”
They both barked out a surprised laugh, and I smiled, thinking about how Skylar had been a terrible, terrible influence on me. One crisis settled, I headed back out to my truck and made my way over to Emery and Woody’s place.
Stevie, of course, completely understood why Reed couldn’t make it, and she loved the belt buckle I gave her. She especially loved that turning fourteen meant she was now officially an employee of the Baker Ranch, not just a well-tipped junior volunteer.
I wished I could’ve stayed in the moment but was off my game the second I saw Skylar. I hadn’t seen his Porsche out in the parking area outside of Emery and Woody’s big, clapboard house—not that I’d been looking—and hadn’t prepared myself for how beautiful he was.
Skylar’s eyes dazzled against his shimmery blouse and black leather pants. The red-soled heels, which made him my height, were an unexpected touch. I wondered what kind of underthings he was wearing. His underthings are none of your never mind.
Besides, I couldn’t even imagine what a hard on would look like in lace. Liar.
“Hey, Kit. Want a refill?” Dawn asked, ripping me away from the picture in my head. My imagination, as it happened, worked pretty well. I was also pretty sure Rowdy caught me staring a time or two, but it couldn’t be helped.
My eyes went to Skylar before I had a chance to wrangle them back into place. Looking down at my outfit—starched shirt, starched jeans, shiny belt buckle, and my nice boots for the occasion—and suddenly felt shriveled up and ugly as homemade sin.
I refocused on Dawn, who looked at me expectantly, holding a carafe of the adult punch. “Refill?”
“Definitely not,” I said, a little more forceful than I’d meant to.
“Oooh-kay,” she said, hurrying on to the next person.
No wonder Sky had pulled away so quickly. I still couldn’t believe I’d kissed him like that. Or at all. Every time I thought about it, my face went hot and humiliation washed over me.
Why would I do that?
Sure, he was an attractive guy. And yeah, over the years I’d noticed men could be pretty too, but I guess maybe I’d been so in love with my wife that it didn’t register.
What I really wanted to know was why the hell it was registering now.
I adjusted my hat, wishing I could erase from my memory the feel of his hands on my thighs. As I was attempting to re-compartmentalize the whole thing, a long arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I nearly startled out of my skin.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
It was Emery, Woody’s husband and Stevie’s dad. I wasn’t sure when we’d become the type of friends who hugged each other, but I didn’t hate it. Actually, it reminded me how long it’d been since I’d had any sort of real physical contact outside of my visits with Skylar.
Speaking of, where did he get off to?
That’s none of your business, Kit.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your willingness to let her work for you,” Emery said, reminding me we were in the middle of a conversation. He looked to Stevie with a warm smile. “It means a lot to me.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I love being able to mentor her, and she’s a great kid,” I responded, and meant it. “She’s so good with Reed.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his chest puffing up. “And I’m sorry he couldn’t come tonight.”
I sighed. Me too.
“New people are hard for him,” I said instead. Chewing at my lip, trying to think of a way to arrange for my son to be around these folks, I offered, “It might work better for y’all to come over to my place for dinner.”
“Sweet. Stevie says your chef is awesome.”
I raised my brows, fake affronted. “I’ll have you know I make a killer steak all on my own.”
“Killer steaks it is.”
I closed one eye. “I feel like I walked into that.”
“No take backs,” he warned, patting my shoulder before stalking over to Woody. They touched foreheads before giving into a deep, searching kiss.
Jealousy curdled in my stomach, and I caught Rowdy standing on his tiptoes to kiss Kess, who casually cupped his ass, pulling him in closer. Not able to handle another second of this lovey-dovey bull, I exited the kitchen and found the hallway to the bathroom.
As I went for the handle, the door opened and . . . damn. Skylar stood there, even more gorgeous close up.
“Um, hey Sky.” I said, shuffling my feet.
“You know, you don’t have to feel so awkward around me,” he said, amusement playing on his glossy lips.
I scratched the back of my head, avoiding eye contact like my life depended on it. “You sure about that?”
He laughed, then leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek, his sweet, ambery scent filling my nose. “We’re good, cowboy. And thank you for wearing the brace tonight. I didn’t wanna have to ruin Stevie’s birthday with an act of violence.”
“Well,” I said, a wry grin tilting my lips, “I’d hate to be the cause of any party ruination.”
Skylar looked behind me, as if to make sure we were alone, then fluffed his hair with shaky fingers.
“You okay?” I asked, his lack of confidence bothering me to my core.
“Oh, yeah.” He bit at his bottom lip and it almost looked like he was holding back tears. “I, uh. I retired from my old position. Thought you’d like to know.”
I blinked a few times, not quite . . . oh.
Oh.
“You’re not a . . .”
“Sugar baby? No. Not anymore.”
“Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?” I asked, a kernel of rage flaring in my guts. “I swear, if?—”
Sky held up his beautifully manicured hand. “No. Nothing like that.” He titled his head back, staring at the ceiling. After a few seconds, he carefully wiped the stray tears, keeping his pretty makeup intact, then took a deep breath and put on a smile. “I . . . he left. And then promised me to one of his buddies.”
Jesus.
“That fucking?—”
He held up his hand again. “Don’t give yourself an aneurysm, now. I needed to see the reality of things so I could give myself better options. I sold the Porsche and the diamonds and pretty much everything he’d ever given me in a fit, and now I’m figuring out next steps.”
I hated seeing him like this. Unsure. Uncertain about where he was going in life.
“Where are you living? You know I own several properties. I can?—”
He shook his head. “Thank you. Truly. I think I need to be around friends, you know?”
Was I not a friend?
“Of course.”
He let out a sigh. “I might actually see if Woody’ll let me stay in the cabin, since no one’s there right now.”
I opened my mouth to protest—every single one of my properties had nicer accommodations than that scrubby old cabin on Woody’s preserve—but Skylar’s expression made me clamp my lips back together.
“It’s a good starting point, I suppose.”
“I, uh . . .” His fingers went to his pretty, highlighted quiff again. “I might reach out to you about the idea you had? The one about the home visits?”
Anticipation flared in my chest. Business was something I knew a lot about, and I could think of no one else I’d rather help more. “Of course. Why don’t you get settled, then come by? We can work out a business plan and maybe help you avoid some common pitfalls.”
Relief flooded Sky’s face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Really?”
“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Ah. There was his pretty smile again. He bumped his hip against mine. “We are.” He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. “Thanks, Kit. I appreciate it.”
I pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “Of course, Sky. Call me when you’re ready,” I said, knowing there was no way in hell I was going to wait for him to call me first.
He stepped out of the hug and delicately wiped a few more tears from his eyes, his laugh light. “Sorry for crying all over you. I’m so ridiculous.”
“Nah,” I said, squeezing his arm. “You’re just figuring out the next phase of life after a rude awakening. Trust me, you’ll appreciate this part once you’ve got the next part figured out.”
He nodded, then made his way back to the party while I finally stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Staring into the mirror, my hand shot to my face, where a perfect lip print marked my cheek. Something about that particular shade of red sent a bolt of need to my groin, and I couldn’t explain why it made my heart race like it did.
Cynthia always laughed at me because I was, at my core, a simple man. I loved a woman in red lipstick and heels. I loved delicate lingerie and perfume and long nails. It was strange to realize I appreciated those things in Skylar. Maybe it was because he seemed to enjoy it, whereas Cyn had only ever done it because she knew it’d make me happy.
After scrubbing the lipstick from my cheek, I rejoined the party. They’d already cut into the jackalope-shaped red velvet cake, and the result was rather gruesome. Skylar’s eyes flashed as he made fun of the massacred cake, laughing so free, like he’d never had a bad day in his entire life.
My favorite people had always been the kind to light up a room—basically the opposite of me. That some jackass sugar daddy had even temporarily dimmed his shine made me grit my teeth. Sky deserved to sparkle, and right then and there, I determined I would be the one to make sure he did.
As a friend, of course.