CHAPTER 11
KNOX
I could say the surprise on Haven’s face isn’t comical, but that would be a lie. It’s obvious she’s not used to having someone take care of her. I’m more than happy to be the man who shows her just how high her value is and what she should expect from the man in her life.
Nothing would make me happier, actually.
Then there’s Wilde. Every moment I spend with him, every interaction, has me loving the kid even more. He’s genuine in a way only kids can be. Seeing how he’s not chained by his past and is willing to trust me means everything.
Haven is trying, which is more than enough for me. Of course it’s going to be more difficult for her, and it would surprise me if it were any other way.
She’s the one who was in a relationship with an abusive prick. She’s the one who thought she loved him. Or maybe I’m making too many assumptions.
Going slow with her is almost impossible. For the last week, no matter what else I’m doing, she’s been on my mind. It was a fight every day not to come over here just to get a glimpse of her.
But I know any wrong move could send her running. It’s a chance I’m not willing to take.
I’m looking forward to the day when I can get my woman breakfast, and she doesn’t even react because it’s so damn normal that it’s part of her everyday life.
And mine. The feeling of warmth in the middle of my chest, of accomplishment, from just getting her a plate of pancakes is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It probably shouldn’t feel this good.
But it does.
And I won’t be taking this feeling for granted.
As much as I want to sit next to Haven after I grab my own pancakes while Wendy smiles, and not in a flirty way, I force myself to sit on the other side of Wilde. If I were to sit next to her, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my hands to myself. The small, four-year-old buffer is a good idea.
For now.
The look Wilde gives me is full-on assessing and I don’t think he leaves an inch of me unobserved. Suspicion and curiosity fill his words, “Where’s the treasure box? You didn’t forget, did you?”
I bark out a laugh as I get my pancakes ready to eat. I make a funny face at him which makes him smile even though he tries to stop it.
“What do you take me for? I’ll have you know that I had some very special people decorate the treasure box for me and I’ve already put it in our classroom.
” Wilde’s eyes go wide and it’s obvious he’s about a second away from bolting to check out the box.
“Nope,” the word is firm, but I don’t snap at him, and he stills while his face goes wary, “you can’t run off and get a sneak peek.
It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else in the class.
Besides,” I point down to his plate, “we’re eating pancakes and they’re our favorite. ”
His little shoulders relax and he nods wistfully. “You’re right. I just want to see the treasure box. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” I throw out there, now more than a little worried that it will.
The box itself is simple, but I got Monroe to decorate it since putting jewels on a wooden box isn’t in my normal wheelhouse. She’s not only an artist, but a crafter. I figured she’d be the best bet to prevent it from looking like a glue gun hot mess.
“You haven’t just been thinking about it,” Haven points out. “You’ve been practicing drawing boxes all week.”
I swear Wilde blushes a little, but he brazens right through any embarrassment. “Getting the suspective right is hard with a box,” he justifies the practice he’s been putting in.
It’s completely unnecessary because I’m impressed as hell that he even thought to practice.
After finishing chewing my bite of pancakes, I point my fork in his direction.
“You’re not wrong. And I think you mean perspective.
That is how you make a two-dimensional object appear to be three dimensions within a certain space. ”
The serious look on his face makes me want to laugh, but I hold it back. I never want him to feel like I’m making fun of him. I’m not. How could I when I’m blown away by the kid?
“Perspective,” he repeats the word slowly while nodding. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“Perspective is difficult to master. There are times when I’m working on a piece for a tattoo where I have to redo parts because the angle isn’t right or there’s something off with the sizing. It’s something you’ll always work on, no matter how long you’ve been drawing.”
Wilde’s eyes widen and his fork freezes midair. “You still have to redo things when you’re drawing something?”
I chuckle under my breath and nod as he stuffs the bite of pancake into his mouth, his attention riveted on me. I glance at Haven and find her paying close attention, even though she’s trying to make it look like she’s not.
“Of course,” I confirm. “Just because art is part of my career and people like my work doesn’t mean I’m perfect all the time.
It also doesn’t mean I stop learning. I’m always looking at other people’s work and challenging myself.
I’m always looking to get better and to make every piece I work on the best it can be.
Sometimes that means redoing parts of it or even starting over. ”
“Woah,” Wilde breathes out. “I just figured you’d get it right all the time now.”
“I wish,” I groan and shoot him a pouty look. “Certain things are still harder for me than other things. Like hands. Especially the fingers. It requires such detail and is small work. I have to really focus and slow down when I’m drawing fingers and when I’m tattooing them.”
“A tattoo is just drawing with ink on skin, right?” Wilde’s question is filled with gentle, innocent curiosity.
“Exactly,” I answer honestly. “But working on skin, especially the way I do it isn’t easy. Paper is consistent. It feels the same all over, right?” He nods as he spears another pancake bite. “Skin is different. It moves and some areas might feel different than another.”
“Oh,” he exclaims, “like how I can do this?” Wilde pinches a little bit of skin on his arm and pulls it up before releasing it. “Ouch,” he says under his breath, more to himself than us.
“Hey,” Haven’s voice holds a soft warning, “be gentle with your skin.”
He shoots her a sheepish look and nods. When I clear my throat, he looks at me expectantly.
“Exactly like how you can do that,” I tell him and wink which earns me a grin. “It makes skin difficult to work on. And depending on where a tattoo is, the process can be painful.”
He gasps, “Is it always painful?”
I glance at Haven who is looking at me with wide eyes and a look that screams ‘what the fuck, you’re on your own, but good luck’ and I cringe. Not wanting to lie to the boy, ever, I go with tempered honesty.
“It can be. Some places on the body hurt more than others. It depends and every person is different. The ink goes under the skin and requires needles to be used in a tattoo machine.”
He blinks at me a few times before looking at my arms, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. “Needles?” There’s a mix of awe and disbelief in his voice. “Did yours hurt?”
Moving my arm a little closer, I offer it to him. “The ones on my arms didn’t really hurt. At least, not to me.”
He makes a humming sound before gently reaching out and touching my arm. “They’re cool.” He puffs up his chest a little and asserts, “I’m going to get a tattoo.”
Haven makes a choking sound before coughing. “You’re not getting a tattoo until you’re at least thirty,” she gasps out.
The look he gives her is full of sass. “Thirty? You might as well say never if I have to wait that long.”
“Thirty isn’t that bad,” I mumble sullenly.
Wilde’s head swings my direction. “Why? How old are you, Knox? I’m four, but you know that.”
“I’m thirty-one,” I tell him, and his jaw drops open.
“What? Did you get all your tattoos in only one year? That’s a lot,” he looks skeptical as he studies my arms and shoots his mom a look of disbelief.
“Uh,” I’m at a loss, “it’s been a little longer than a year,” I tell him the truth without committing to anything specific.
“Do you want another pancake?” Haven’s question is pure deflection covered in syrup and hope.
“No,” Wilde chirps, “I’m ready for class. Is it time?”
Haven sits back, clearly thinking she’s dodged the rest of the conversation. For now, at least. She looks at my plate while I glance at my watch. “Yup. It’s about that time,” I confirm.
“You run up and grab your supplies,” Haven gently prods him.
Wilde is up and almost out of the room before I know what’s happened. Suddenly, he’s back and grabbing his plate to take over to Laura. Then he’s gone again on the mission of getting his supplies.
I whistle lowly. “He’s fast.”
Haven chuckles and nods. “He is and he has so much energy. I’m so glad he has the freedom to be a little boy now.”
The moment the words leave her mouth, she clamps them together and purses her lips.
“I am too,” I tell her honestly, not willing to acknowledge how she thinks she’s said too much.
It’ll never be too much when it comes to me.
“It’s because you were brave.” She opens her mouth, and I shake my head.
“I don’t need to know any details to know it’s true. ”
Her cheeks turn the prettiest pink I’ve ever seen, and I have to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for her.
“Can I take you on a date?”
She startles as if my question is the last thing she ever expected me to say, which is silly.
“I’m not sure.” She bites her lip as she looks toward where Wendy and Laura are trying not to look like they’re eavesdropping on our conversation.
They totally are. “Dating probably isn’t something I should do until I have my own place and can find a reliable babysitter for Wilde. ”
“We’d be happy to keep Wilde occupied for a few hours,” Wendy chirps and then goes back to cleaning some dishes in the sink.