CHAPTER 9
KNOX
As the kids start to leave the room, Haven calls Wilde over to her. If she thinks she’s going to be able to slip out of the room quickly, she’s going to be surprised. It might not be a good one for her, but I’m still going to take full advantage of it.
“Knox asked me to help clean things up and to be his helper,” Wilde informs Haven, and I have to swallow down my laughter.
The look of pure horror that flashes across Haven’s face is comical. Not that I would ever tell her that because I’m not a stupid man.
People have liked to think of me as stupid many times throughout my life, but that doesn’t mean it has ever been true. When I was growing up it was because of my size. I’ve always been a bigger kid, both in height and weight.
Why did people take one look at me and think I wasn’t intelligent? It never made sense to me, but people like to be cruel and find weakness in others. My parents are good people, but they never really encouraged me to be curious when it comes to education.
Maybe it’s because Mom only graduated high school and my father went to trade school.
Growing up I convinced myself they didn’t push me to do better in school because they thought I was stupid just like the people who would say it to my face. I learned quickly that my art never judged me and never expected more than I could give.
My skill, my ability, was the only thing that mattered. Is it intelligence? Is it smarts? Is it simply talent?
I don’t think I care about the answer. I didn’t then and I don’t now.
But the words of those people, who only saw me as big and dumb, hurt me. They still hurt me even though it has been years. Knowing the family I have built, the one I have now, values me has helped a lot. They value me, not my talent or whether I’m smart; just me.
Wilde certainly doesn’t look at me like I’m stupid. He looks at me like one of the superheroes he drew last week. It makes me feel ten feet tall.
The corner of Haven’s lip twitches as she prompts him, “Oh? He did, huh?”
I can’t help myself and move closer to them as the last of the class leaves the room. Having it be just the three of us in the room feels special. I also know I can’t get too far ahead of myself.
Earning Haven’s trust and building something with her that will last, especially because Wilde has to be considered, is going to take some time. It’s a damn good thing I have time.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I murmur as I get to Wilde’s side. I crouch down next to the end of the table so I’m not towering over either of them. Wilde immediately leans into my side, and my heart fucking melts at the simple action which screams like a banshee with meaning.
Haven’s eyes go wide and almost bug out of her head which tells me she’s just as surprised by her son’s actions as I am. Then, as she looks at him, her eyes soften, and she smiles. It’s as if I can see into her soul.
The love she has for her son is something tangible. I can feel it wrap around us and I’m sure he can as well.
“No,” Haven whispers, her eyes flicking to meet mine before going back to her son, “I don’t mind. Wilde is a really good helper. Honestly, you’re lucky to have nailed him down because you can’t get a better right-hand man.”
Wilde’s chest puffs up with pride. Then he eyes his mom his voice filled with excitement, “How long have you been sitting in the back of the classroom? Did you see my drawing? Are you going to take the class and draw something? Maybe not today, but next class? We’re going to draw a treasure box next week, but Knox won’t tell us if there is any treasure inside it. ”
His words run together, which is both amusing and endearing. Haven bites her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. She reaches out and ruffles his hair which earns her an epic eye roll and a big huff of derision.
“You know I can’t draw more than a stick figure.
I’ll let you have all the artistic talent,” she tells him.
“I wasn’t here long. I just wanted to see how your class ended.
I did hear about the treasure box, and it sounds very interesting.
Do you think it’s a pirate treasure box or,” she makes a humming sound and taps her chin, “maybe a dragon treasure box?”
“Dragons have treasure boxes?” Wilde’s question is gasped with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
“They have to put their horde somewhere,” Haven points out.
“I figured they would store their treasures in a cave or something,” Wilde muses.
“I don’t see why it couldn’t be both,” I interject.
They both give me identical assessing looks. A lesser man would cower under their looks, but I’m not a lesser man. They can study me and try and break me down as much as they want.
I welcome it.
Because now, as the three of us sit in a room which was never meant to be an art studio in a women’s shelter which is a lighthouse for those in need, all I can see is a future involving both Haven and Wilde. She’s mine, there was never a doubt about that, but he is too.
I think my heart claimed him the moment I looked into his eyes, and he trusted me to show me his art which is an extension of his soul. The fact that he’s not mine, biologically, doesn’t matter in the least. He is a part of his mother which is more than enough for me.
“Oh,” Haven exclaims brightly, “like a treasure chest in a dragon cave.”
“Sounds about right,” Wilde agrees as if this conversation is the most natural in the world.
Maybe it is.
“How big do you think a treasure chest has to be to be part of a dragon horde?” I ask, my eyebrows pulled together.
The look of pure thoughtfulness that takes over Wilde’s face is adorable. He stretches his arms out as big as he can. “At least this big. A dragon could easily carry it to its lair.” He leans closer to me, his voice dropping, “You know dragons have giant claws.”
“Not a baby dragon,” I muse.
Wilde giggles and nods. “Yeah, a baby dragon would need a smaller treasure chest at first, but then he could add to his treasure stash as he grows.”
“The same would be true for a child pirate,” I point out.
The laugh that comes out of Wilde is one of those sounds that invite you to join in. I don’t fight the impulse. Neither does Haven.
He shakes his head at me, “You’re silly.”
“Being silly is fun,” I point out. “Maybe one day we’ll draw silly. What do you think?”
Wilde’s eyes light up and his fingers twitch like he wants to grab his sketch pad and pastels to dive into the idea right now. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did.
This little boy has an artist’s soul. I can’t wait to see how it continues to grow.
“I have so many ideas,” Wilde muses, his words soft like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying them out loud.
“Before you head out to draw ‘silly’,” I pull his attention back to me, “hopefully with a child pirate in there somewhere, how about putting away the fruit? Do you know where they need to go?”
“I bet they need to go into the playroom. There’s a little store playset in there. Do you think that would be the right place?” Wilde looks toward Haven to see if she agrees with him.
When she nods, he stands up and rushes toward the bowl. “I’ll put them away and then take the bowl back to the kitchen since it belongs there.”
I look at Haven and wink, “You were right about him being the perfect right-hand man.”
Wilde doesn’t walk to complete his mission, he struts. The confidence coming off him makes my chest warm from the inside out. He deserves to feel good about himself. He deserves to know his worth, to feel it intrinsically, and have it reflected back to him by the people closest to him.
Haven has done an amazing job with him. He’s thoughtful and kind. Sure, he’s wary, but that has nothing to do with Haven. It is the fault of the person they left in their past.
A past I hope never finds a way into the present or the future.
I turn toward Haven and find her blue eyes locked on me already. “You have an amazing son,” I murmur the words softly, meaning them with everything I am.
“I know,” she shoots back at me with all the sass she can muster which has me chuckling under my breath. “He’s a good kid.” She pauses, her eyes searching my face. “You better not be someone who disappoints him; he doesn’t deserve it.”
The warning she’s putting at my feet is obvious and it’s completely understandable. The last thing I want to do is further traumatize Wilde. Or Haven.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the cause of any pain for either of them.
“I will never hurt Wilde,” my voice is fierce. I can only hope she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I’ll never hurt you either.”
She blinks at me a few times, her beautiful blue eyes filled with questions and hope which she’s trying to tamp down.
“Just don’t hurt Wilde,” her words are slow and measured, as if she’s convincing herself his feelings are the only ones which matter.
I know the truth, though. Having her afraid of me, of what is between us, isn’t going to work for me. It’s just that simple.
“Never,” I growl, and she sucks in a sharp breath in response.
I lean toward her, wishing I could reach for her and touch her.
I know it’s not the right time or place, but it won’t stop me forever.
I’ll earn her trust and then her heart. “But you gotta know, Haven, there’s something here.
” I motion between us, my voice dropping, “I really want to find out what it means and where it can go.”
She looks away while a soft pink color rises on her cheeks. It’s adorable and I want to make her cheeks turn that color over and over again.
“I’m not sure that is such a good idea,” she hedges.
“I get it might not be the best timing I’ve ever had in my life, but I refuse to let an opportunity pass me by when I’ve never felt anything like this before,” I tell her honestly.
“Felt anything like what?” Her voice is a whisper, barely there and feels like being kissed by the sun.
“This connection,” I murmur. Our eyes lock, and I can’t look away; I don’t want to.
“This feeling. It’s intense, sure, but it’s real.
I’ve been attracted to women before,” she cringes slightly and I have to fight to keep my face neutral, “but this is different. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever met, but there is something deeper, something more, here as well. ”
“I don’t,” she starts to say, but then her words die on her lips.
I don’t know if she was going to try and deny this connection or say that she’s not ready for a relationship. I wouldn’t want to hear either option, honestly.
My soul is screaming at me that we’re meant to be. Meant to be a family. Meant to step into our future together. Meant to make forever filled with something special.
Her mouth opens and closes, as if she can’t get the words out and doesn’t even know where to start in the first place. I smile, and place my hand on her knee, hoping to ground her, hoping to ground me.
“I get it, it feels like a lot right now,” I tell her.
“You’re not ready and that’s okay. There’s no pressure from my side.
I won’t ever pressure you,” I enunciate the words, needing her to hear them.
“All I’m asking is for a chance to get to know you and Wilde, and for you both to get to know me, and maybe earn your trust.”
She stares at me, the moment stretching between us is somehow both fragile and malleable. There’s no doubt in my mind that this could be broken so easily. It could shatter between us, the pieces seemingly too small to be pieced back together.
But I know the truth.
I feel it in the deepest part of my soul—we’re meant to be.
She’s mine. They’re mine.
“I don’t want to hurt Wilde,” she murmurs, her lips barely moving.
She looks down at her hands where her fingers are twisted together like a physical manifestation of what her insides are doing.
I know the feeling. When she looks back up at me, there’s strength in her gaze.
“Or you,” she tacks on the words like they mean nothing.
But I know the truth.
They mean everything.
She gives me her truth, what she knows down to her bones, what she fears in the darkest parts of herself, with only a moment of hesitation. It’s a gift and I know it. I can feel it.
If she thinks it’ll make me run or back off, she’s wrong. The warmth of her sharing with me willingly wraps around me like a ribbon. Binding me to her. As if I wasn’t already gone for her. As if I wasn’t already caught in her storm.
“I’m not worried,” I assure her, my voice steady. Strong. Sure.
Haven swallows hard and I can’t help but watch her throat bob as she does. Fuck. She’s sexy. And the worst part, or perhaps the best part, is she’s completely oblivious to it.
It’s in the way she tries to make herself smaller, even when everyone in the room can’t help but look at her and then can’t look away.
It’s in the way she rounds her shoulders, her confidence an ember when it should be an inferno.
It’s in the way her eyes dart around the room, the action coated in uncertainty.
“Can you give me a chance, Haven?”
“I’d like to try,” her words are soft, but her voice doesn’t tremble.
I think a tornado could come ripping through the room and it wouldn’t be able to move me from right where I am. She said yes. Kind of. For the most part.
I’m sure as fuck not going to look at her willing to try as anything other than a win.
After giving her knee a squeeze, I force myself to move my hand. “Thank you,” the words bubble up out of me, a giddiness in my tone I don’t think I could hide even if I tried. “It’s all I need.”
The smile she gives me is uncertain, but that does nothing to take away how fucking stunning it is. It’s enough.
For now.