Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
The afternoon sun spills across the kitchen counter, casting a warm glow on the flour-dusted surface.
Lio’s small hands are dusted white as he giggles, turning the handle of the pasta machine with an infectious eagerness.
I stand beside him, guiding his movements as the dough flattens and stretches into perfect sheets.
“Uncle Hunter, look! I’m like the chef on TV!” Lio beams up at me. His smile, missing a front tooth since yesterday, makes him all the more endearing.
“You’re better than a TV chef, bud,” I tell him, ruffling his hair and sending a small cloud of flour into the air.
As we cut the pasta into long, even strands, I teach him how to twirl them into little nests. “You’ve got a knack for this,” I say, and his proud smile tells me I’ve chosen the right words.
We talk about everything and nothing as we work—his toy car that’s working again thanks to Sloan and how excited he is to go whale watching with Nash again soon.
I would love to do this with him, but I will never in a million years set foot on a boat that’s watered again.
“Can we show Daddy how we make pasta?” Lio asks, his hopeful eyes searching mine for confirmation.
If only North could see how much Lio is longing for the appreciation of his daddy.
Who can say no to those big blue eyes?
“Daddy is gonna love your pasta,” I assure him. “He will want to eat it all the time.” Lio’s laughter fills the kitchen, and it’s a sound I vow to hear more often.
Even if I have to tie up North in the chair and spoon-feed him the pasta myself.
Cleaning up becomes a game—each of us armed with a sponge, pretending to be knights battling the evil forces of mess. Lio swipes his at invisible foes, and I can’t help but join in, our laughter echoing off the walls.
But once more, the surge of energy is quickly gone, and the laughter turns into coughing. A sheen of sweat builds on his forehead when I sit him down in a chair and get his inhaler, making sure he takes deep breaths.
“Here, you can watch some cartoons while I finish this up,” I tell him, handing over my phone with some Charlie Brown playing.
Even though I texted North and Nash that Lio and I made pasta, neither of them showed up to eat. I can see how much it hurts Lio, and I’m ready to drive over to the shipyard and drag North home by his earlobe. Thankfully, Sloan comes home from work before I do.
“We made pasta, Sloany, wanna try?” Lio asks her with hopeful eyes.
And just like that, Sloan saves the day with her enthusiastic reaction to dinner. “Oh wow, you made pasta yourself? That’s amazing! Of course I would love to try if you have some left for me, bud.”
Sloan is not the motherly type. It’s obvious she hasn’t had much to do with kids. She doesn’t treat him like a child. She just talks to him like he’s a small adult, and it’s hilarious. And it’s something Lio seems to enjoy very much. Not to mention how much I like her company.
Dinner is fun and easy compared to the few tense and silent breakfasts we’ve had with Nash and North. It makes me wonder if I should talk to them again. It seems like they are making her uncomfortable.
And we can’t have that.
Did she sleep with Nash again?
The question haunts me.
Maybe she was drunk. She said she was last time.
But even her only fucking him when she’s drunk doesn’t make her magically want me.
Sloan is putting the plates Lio brings her into the dishwasher, and I’m wiping down the table when the familiar tapping of rain on the windows starts. A shudder runs through me, and when I look outside, I notice how dark it has gotten, even though it’s too early for dusk to set in.
I tense up.
A storm?
Fear creeps up my spine when a thunderclap hits in the distance, and I wince, gripping the edge of the table. A warm hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to look at Sloan, who is watching me with concern in her eyes. “You all right?”
“Sure, I just—” I start, but a second thunderclap interrupts me, and I nearly deflate. Sloan begins to stroke my back, and when I glance at her, she’s looking out the window.
She whispers under her breath, “The weather.” Letting go of me she walks over to Lio, asking, “Do you know what a thunder buddy is, Lio?” Lio shakes his head, eyeing her with curiosity.
“Well, you know, I’m scared of the thunder because it is so loud, so grumpy.
” Lio nods vigorously, making me smile to myself. “So, you know what I mean?”
“I do,” he tells her, and I haven’t even noticed he doesn’t like storms either. It seems I was too occupied with my own problems.
“So, a thunder buddy is someone who holds your hand when it thunders, who is with you through the storm, so you don’t have to be afraid. I think we all could use a thunder buddy,” she explains, her gaze finding mine, and a small smile spreads across my lips while I stand straight again.
This woman.
Lio reaches out to take Sloan’s hand and pulls her to me so he can take mine too. Another thunderclap hits, this one even louder, and we all wince before we start laughing. The panic subsides slowly, and only fear lingers.
It’s not a big storm, just rain and thunder.
I can handle that.
I think.
“What else do thunder buddies do?” Lio asks Sloan, who smiles at him.
“They get ice cream for dessert and watch cartoons until the worst is over,” she explains, and I shoot her a look. “What?” She feigns innocence. “I didn’t make the rules.”
Laughing, I want to let go of Lio’s hand to get the ice cream, but he beats me to it. “Here, hold Sloany’s. I’ll get us spoons.”
I do as I’m told and take Sloan’s hand in mine. She’s so much smaller. I watch how I thread our fingers before my gaze comes up to hers again. The look she gives me causes a flutter in my chest, and I have no idea when someone last looked at me like that.
Like they liked what they saw.
I pull her over to the refrigerator, making her laugh. “What?” I ask her in the same way she just did. “I didn’t make the rules.”
Gathering everything we need, we sit on the couch, Lio between Sloan and me, a blanket over us while we watch cartoons and eat ice cream.
There isn’t any more thunder, but it’s still raining heavily, and I have to keep breathing deeply.
With the panic attack just under the surface, ready to grip me, I try to keep my attention on the television or her and how she laughs with Lio.
I reach over Lio to grab Sloan’s hand on the blanket and hold it. She cocks an eyebrow at me, and I tell her softly, “I need a little more support from my thunder buddy.”
She smiles, and her attention turns back to the television, but her thumb starts to stroke the back of my hand, the soothing movement settling my nerves while simultaneously making my heart beat faster.
“Can we do that?” Lio asks, making both of us look at him.
“Can we do what, bud?” I ask, not having paid attention, and he points at the television. The kids in the cartoon are outside, dancing in the rain and hopping around in puddles.
“Sure, that looks fun,” Sloan agrees, letting go of my hand and standing. Lio jumps up excitedly, causing him to cough, making Sloan freeze and look at me concerned. “I mean, we can… right?”
Oh, now you ask for permission?
I chuckle. “You two sure can. I’m going to wait for you with something warm to drink.”
“But thunder buddies need to stay together,” Lio tells me with puppy dog eyes.
Fear starts to climb up my spine again.
Going outside when it is pouring.
I breathe in deeply, trying to calm down, thinking about my therapist, who told me I should face my fears and confront them head-on.
I have never done that before.
I always hide.
“You don’t have to, Hunter. Lio and I are going to play in the rain and come back for a shower and tea,” Sloan reassures me with knowing eyes, but I want to do it.
For Lio, for me.
For her.
“I do. Let’s get your raincoat, bud,” I tell Lio, who runs to the door, cheering. “Slowly!” I yell after him.
“I didn’t want to bring you into a situation you don’t like. I’m sorry,” Sloan mutters beside me, but I reach out and grab her hand again.
“You’re just going to have to hold my hand for it, thunder buddy.”
Her cheeks turn adorably red, and she whispers, “Of course.”
We follow Lio, and I have to let go of Sloan to help him put on his rubber boots, raincoat, and beanie. It’s not as cold anymore as it was just days ago, with temperatures back to normal for September, but it’s still late and chilly, and I don’t want him to catch a cold on top of his coughing.
North thinks we should wrap him in bubble wrap, never letting him do anything outside the house, but I refuse to do that. He has to have childhood experiences. As long as the doctor doesn’t forbid it, I will let him be a child.
I put on my own rubber boots and rain jacket but watch Sloan as she tries to put on her sneakers.
“That’s not gonna work,” I tell her, pointing at her shoe choice.
She just shrugs. “I don’t have anything else.”
Oh no, nobody is going to get a cold on my watch.
I grab Nash’s boots and jacket and place them in front of her, as he’s the smallest among us. “Here, you can borrow these. We’re not going to be out there for long.”
We get outside, and the first touch of rain is like a trigger, pulling me back to a time and place I’ve tried desperately to lock away.
I can feel the cold seep through my coat, each drop a hammer against my resolve.
My body locks up, an instinctive response to a fear that’s rooted deep within my bones.
The laughter and joy around me from Sloan and Lio as they spin with their arms stretched out and face to the sky while water droplets land on Sloan’s pretty nose is not enough to pull me out since it sounds like it’s underwater.
I’m standing in the middle of a storm again, but it’s not just the rain—it’s the storm of memories, relentless and overwhelming.
My chest tightens, and my breaths come in sharp, labored gasps. I’m here, but I am also there—in the eye of a tempest from my past, where every raindrop is a bullet, every thunderclap a wave that pushes me under, the boom reverberating through my skull.
Sloan’s laughter, pure and uninhibited, cuts through the fog of panic. I try to anchor myself to that sound, to the image of her with rain gliding down her cheeks, carefree. But the harder I try to hold on to the present, the deeper I slip into the quicksand of my trauma.
My fists are balled so tight that my nails dig into my palms, a futile attempt to regain control, to feel something other than the fear. My body remembers the drill—breathe in, breathe out. But the rain, the storm, it’s mocking me.
Just when I’m on the brink, when the urge to flee nearly overtakes me, Sloan steps up before me.
Her eyes, kind and beautiful, cut through the chaos.
When she takes my fists, it’s with a tenderness that makes my knees weak.
Her touch is grounding, a lifeline thrown into the tumultuous sea of my panic.
She’s close, her breath a warm contrast to the chill of the rain, her voice a tether pulling me back from the edge. “I’ve got you,” she says, and it’s more than words—it’s a declaration, a promise.
With her hands in mine, the storm outside becomes just a storm, not a monster from my past. Her touch and assurance begin to peel away the layers of fear.
And I cling to it because it is the only thing that feels real amidst the surge of panic.
Slowly, the vise around my heart loosens, my breathing steadies, and the world comes back into focus.
I let go of her hands to pull her closer to me by her hips.
Leaning down so our noses nearly touch, her warm breath whispers on my lips.
My heart beats for an entirely different reason now.
Her presence settles me, her coconut scent more intense than the smell of rain.
Her hands come up to land on my chest over the raincoat, and my whole being concentrates on the places we touch.
A raindrop lands on her nose once more, and I watch as it runs down the bridge of it, a smile tugging on the side of my mouth.
Everything about her is so fucking beautiful.
I raise my hand to wipe away the drop with my finger before I cup her cheek, her eyes searching my face.
I’m contemplating leaning in to steal a kiss, but Lio jumps in a puddle beside us, splashing us both.
We scatter, Sloan laughing loudly, and adrenaline courses through me.
I have no idea if it’s still from the fear or the little stolen moment we just shared.
Sloan chases after Lio, their laughter echoing in the rain.
She’s stomping behind him in the way too big rubber boots like the dinosaurs that Lio loves, splashing through puddles, her arms flailing with a charming clumsiness while she’s making roaring sounds that have him laughing so hard he can barely keep ahead of her.
I already suspected that I was falling for her.
Now I know.
“Come on, Lio.” She laughs as she grabs him around the waist and carries him over to me. “Let’s get warmed up.”