Chapter 12
12
[Vale]
A week later, Hudson asks if he can go to Atticus’s house for a sleepover.
Personally, I’m not a fan of sleepovers unless it’s family.
I love my girls’ nights with my three nieces—Zelle, Winnie, and June—and I look forward to the day I can have more nights with Adara and Annabelle.
As for when Hudson asks, it’s funny how kids have this uncanny ability to ask for something in front of someone else making the situation awkward.
“Maybe Atticus could come to our house for a while?” I’d been looking forward to a quiet night at home, but the invitation will appease Hudson.
Who looks at Atticus for approval.
“That’s cool. My dad has a date anyway.”
I’m quick to process this information which means no parent would have been present to watch the boys.
Then another thought occurs .
“Did your dad have a babysitter lined up? What about Amelia?” I glance at Hudson whose cheeks turn pink.
Atticus doesn’t notice, because his steely eyes are narrowed toward me.
“We aren’t babies, and we don’t need a sitter. She’ll be fine alone.”
I do not like his response, nor his tone or manner of delivery, and I really don’t care for this kid, but then again, his declaration sounds like something his father might have told him.
“Why doesn’t Amelia come over as well?”
The girl lingers a few feet away near a friend but her attention creeps over to us before darting back to the other girl.
Does she reciprocate the crush on Hudson?
Atticus looks over his shoulder and his sister meets his glance like they are having a private conversation.
A twin thing. Eventually, she gives the slightest shrug but offers a soft smile.
Atticus turns back toward me.
“Sure. What’s for dinner?”
Demanding little shit .
“Pizza.”
Two hours later, Atticus isn’t a fan of having to work for his pizza, as it is build-your-own style, but eventually, he gives in, and I see the child inside the tough eleven-year-old.
In contrast, Amelia is sweet and gracious and had been willing to make her brother’s pizza before I intervened.
“If he wants to eat, he can make his own.”
“I do stuff like this at home,” she informs me.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I slide the four mini-pizza pies into the oven.
“I cook for my dad and my brother.”
Something tells me she cooks, not out of generosity, but because it’s demanded of her.
I do not like the sound of that.
Not all brothers look after their sisters like mine have, but I’d assumed with the twin thing, Atticus might have a bond with his sister and respect her .
“Well, tonight you cook for you. And then the boys clean up.”
“What?” Atticus grunts, horrified by the idea.
“Mom,” Hudson chides like I’m embarrassing him.
But Amelia lowers her eyes and chews her lip, fighting a smile.
When she finally looks up, I wink.
Us girls gotta stick together .
Throughout the night, the kids alternate between playing video games and watching a horror movie, although I don’t think Amelia was thrilled by the selection.
By eight o’clock, the Stanton kids hadn’t heard from their father about when he planned to pick them up or if I should bring them home.
By nine-fifteen, I am agitated by Henry’s lack of response to his kids texting him.
By ten, I am pissed.
By ten-oh-eight, I make a disgruntled suggestion.
“Why don’t you guys spend the night here?”
Maybe this had been Henry’s hope all along—date-night, kid-free evening.
I’d have been all for it, if Henry had simply asked, instead of relying on, and virtually ignoring, text messages from his children.
“Dad says cool,” Atticus offers within seconds of my asking.
I’m livid. How could Henry respond so quickly while he’s been anywhere from radio silent to delayed reaction every other time his children have reached out to him?
Amelia glances at her brother.
“But I don’t have pajamas, or my book, or—” She cuts herself off when her brother narrows his eyes at her.
“You don’t need Blue.” His tone is quiet but condescending, like she’s embarrassing him.
“Who’s Blue?” Hudson asks, glancing from brother to sister.
Atticus continues to glare at his sister, who eventually, sheepishly, says, “No one. ”
Mother’s intuition tells me Blue is someone special, or rather something important, and I recall sleeping with a well-loved stuffed pony as a kid.
Doing so made me feel strangely close to a woman I hadn’t known.
My mother.
My heart softens toward the young girl, reminding myself she doesn’t have a mother either and she’s stuck with Henry as a father.
For that matter, I muster compassion for Atticus as well.
“Let me see if I can find you something to sleep in and a book. My nieces are always leaving things here. I can put you in one of our extra bedrooms while the boys sleep in Hudson’s room. It’s time for bed, anyway.”
With five bedrooms on the upper level, I occupy my old bedroom while Hudson has his own room.
We converted one small room into a den of sorts for Hudson’s gaming system slash study space, leaving other rooms as extra bedrooms.
“It’s not even ten-thirty,” Atticus shrieks, appalled.
“And you boys have practice tomorrow,” I remind him before giving Hudson a hard mom-glare.
“Come on.” Hudson turns for the staircase while Atticus looks after his friend in shock, then glances back at me, before following Hudson.
“Your mom is kind of a ballbuster,” Atticus mutters as he catches up to Hudson before they reach the staircase.
“I know, but she’s all right,” Hudson defends.
Score for me, I guess .
I doubt Atticus agrees, but I turn my attention to Amelia.
“Boys.” I shake my head and Amelia rolls her eyes, on board with me.
Within minutes, I settle Amelia into the room we use for my nieces and find her a T-shirt of mine plus a too-small-for-me pair of shorts to wear.
I also luck out that among the collection of books I keep on hand for my nieces, there is one Amelia wants to read.
As I step toward the door, Hudson appears just outside it in the hallway.
When I give him a puzzling look, he holds up a stuffed bear.
“I thought this might help Amelia.”
As sheriff, Stone has a collection of Courage Bears, a bear with a sheriff star on its chest, that the department gives to kids who happen to be in the station for whatever reason.
My heart melts at the thoughtfulness of my son.
“That’s sweet, buddy. Want to give it to her yourself?” Even though she’s already climbed into the bed, I’ll wait here while he offers his gift.
“Nah.” His ears turn pink reminding me how Ford’s do the same thing.
Thrusting the bear toward me, he says, “You can just give it to her.”
I take the bear from him, smile into its soft head, and walk it over to Amelia who smiles in appreciation.
After a quick check on the boys, I remind Hudson to power off his phone and shower.
I have a no-electronics-in-bed rule.
Atticus groans before reluctantly turning off his.
Once I leave Hudson’s room, I’m approaching mine when I hear a knocking sound.
I pause a beat, thinking I’ve misheard the light hammering noise.
When the rapping occurs again, there’s no mistaking that someone is at the front door.
Certain it’s Henry, I rush down the staircase ready to rip into him.
What a thoughtless father.
Making it down the stairs in record time, I open the front door with a flourish.
“You have some— Cort?”