Chapter 10 Monkeying Around
Monkeying Around
Over the past few weeks, our Sunday routine had expanded to include Saturdays and quite often a weeknight or two though I was careful not to insert myself into their lives too often.
Holding back was difficult.
From the beginning, I recognized in Kian a kindred spirit, one whose single fatal mistake spun him slightly out of sync. A step and a half behind and to the left of everyone else. Set slightly apart by an invisible ankle bracelet of shame that forever after hobbled his steps.
I related to the shame, but it was more than shame that drew me to him.
He awakened the latent, nurturing instinct I’d buried so deeply I didn’t think anyone would ever revive it.
This morning I’d had errands to run before meeting them at the beach. Hitting the sand, my mood always improved. Seeing Kian and Isaiah waiting for me?
It soared.
Kian looked up from the picnic table at Krippy’s Chippy as I approached and grinned, his deep hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ready to eat?”
Despite his losses, he laughed. Often.
I smiled back, ignoring the flutter in my belly.
Don’t go there.
“Always ready for fish and chips,” I replied lightly.
We sat down with our order, Isaiah bouncing on the bench between us. Every now and then Isaiah’s small hand dipped into my plate and snagged one of my fries.
“Isaiah, don’t put your fingers in other people’s food,” Kian reprimanded.
Isaiah leaned back and looked up at his dad. “Bridge always gets more fries than me and she never finishes. I’m helping.”
“Well, could you wait until she’s done before helping?” he asked drily.
He ducked his head and quietly acquiesced. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Besides,” he smirked, “Bridge doesn’t like to share her fries.”
Cocking one eyebrow, I chose a large French fry off my plate and passed it to Isaiah. “Isaiah is the exception to the rule.”
Isaiah looked up at me with a besotted grin, his blue eyes shining. While I was still slightly uncomfortable around him, worried I’d misstep, I could not deny how completely and utterly he enchanted me.
Kian snorted softly and waved his own fry around to punctuate his statement. “You’re on your own, now. He’s only going to get bigger and so will his appetite. Pretty soon he’ll be polishing off your food as well as his own.”
Awareness cracked through me like a whip. Would I be around when Isaiah hit those tween years?
Or would I miss most of his as well?
Would Kian and I still be friends?
Or would he be married to someone else?
I blinked at the table in front of me knowing it was most definitely an ‘or.’ I couldn’t remain friends with Kian only to watch him love someone else.
The thought sent my heartbeat skittering. Developing feelings like this would only lead to heartbreak, one I was all to familiar with.
With a shaky laugh, I reached out and neatly pinched the French fry out of Kian’s hand, stuffed it into my mouth, and smirked at him. “Problem solved.”
He shook his head and passed me another one, his eyes soft with affection. “Take as much as you want.”
And this was why I couldn’t help but fall just a little bit.
Because this was Kian. He lived his life with an open palm, giving whatever he had.
I saw it when he dropped everything to fix the broken baseboard at Mary Lou’s.
I saw it when he rehung the shelf at Susie Q’s.
I saw it when he stopped and bought cookies and chocolate covered almonds from every child’s fundraiser, then turned around and gave them away.
Where I had gathered everything I owned around me, building a veritable moat of false happiness, he gave and gave and gave.
He humbled me.
And set me on fire.
I always loved to play with fire.
Holding his soft gaze, I plucked another fry from his hand, bit it in half, and held the other half up to his beautiful mouth.
His lips parted.
I hummed as I slid the French fry inside, daring to brush his bottom lip with my thumb.
Snatching my hand back with a harsh mental reprimand, I twisted back to the table and gathered up our garbage for Kian to throw away.
By some unspoken consensus, Kian chased Isaiah down to the beach while I followed along behind, granting us a few minutes of much-needed space.
When they stopped to gather flat rocks to skip along the waves, I caught up. “Park?” I suggested.
Isaiah whooped and circled back to slide his sandy hand into mine.
As soon as we rounded the corner and the park was in sight, Isaiah took off for the swings. Jumping off in midflight, he challenged us to a rousing game of tag in which, due to my inability to stop laughing, I spent an inordinate amount of time as ‘it’ that left us all parched.
Sweaty and smiling, Kian turned to me. “Are you okay with him for ten minutes while I run back to Krippy’s and grab us a few bottles of water?”
Alone?
Something in my face gave him pause.
I wasn’t good with kids. I didn’t want the responsibility. While I’d desperately wanted children once, eventually, I accepted it was a good thing I never had my own.
His brow furrowed as he studied me. “No?”
But this was Kian.
My friend.
The one who gave and gave and gave.
He desperately needed someone in his corner. And I’d be damned if I let anyone else do it.
I shook off my trepidation. What could happen in the space of ten minutes?
“No, no. Go ahead.” I smiled widely, possibly a tad unhinged.
His eyes crinkled, his pretty mouth tipping upward at the corners. Stepping closer, he tipped his face down to meet my eyes. When he touched his forefinger to my jaw, something dark flashed in his eyes.
There were times he made it clear he wanted more. This time, like every other time, he drew back and covered his interest with laughter. “He doesn’t bite. You’ll be fine.”
“Of course!” I nodded like a fucking jack in the box as fireworks combusted in my belly. We didn’t often get so close. We certainly didn’t go around touching each others’ jaws or bottom lips. “We’re good, I mean, I’m good. We’ll be good. Fine.”
Kian’s soft eyes crinkled once more as he walked backwards away from me.
Turning, he called out to Isaiah to let him know where he was going before loping off toward the beach. I watched him until he rounded the corner out of sight.
And what a sight it was.
Used to physical labor, his body was toned and tight in all the right places. He moved fluidly with a rolling, animal-like grace that sucked up all my attention and invited my hungry hands to explore.
It had been too long since I’d had sex. Much, much, longer since I’d had good sex.
My hands curled into fists as if to keep control of fingers that longed to dance along the contours of his arms, the curve of his—
I breathed deeply then blew it out slowly. Reminded myself I didn’t do single dads. Because with Kian, I really, really, wanted to.
“Want to see my rocks?”
Isaiah stood looking at me expectantly.
“Sure!” I chirped, my face, already flushed from exertion, burning hotter.
Isaiah couldn’t possibly understand I’d been ogling his dad, could he?
Emptying his pockets into my lap, he beamed. “There’s some really pretty ones.” His face uncharacteristically serious, he added, “Don’t drop any, okay?”
I shook my head. “I won’t.”
Smiling, I poked through his small collection, remembering the sweetness of another little boy dumping his treasures into my lap.
“Bridge! Bridge, look!”
I looked up, my smile ready, to find Isaiah perched on top of the monkey bars.
My stomach dropped. I hated those things. The one and only time I climbed the fucker I ended up in a thigh to toe cast for 6 weeks.
And then there was what happened to Gary’s oldest.
I shuddered.
“Are you allowed up there?” I asked, my voice high-pitched and strident.
He laughed. “Yeah.”
I swallowed tightly, my shoulders tense. “Are you sure?”
His eyes, so like his father’s and his older brother’s, dropped.
“Isaiah,” I warned. “You’re going to get me in trouble!”
“Dad does it with me all the time!”
I cocked my head to the side, afraid to move. “Your dad climbs up there?”
Maybe I was wrong. What did I know about raising kids?
He laughed then pointed to the ground beneath him. “No, he stands there.”
Shitburgers.
“Hang on, buddy. I’m coming over there.” I held up my palm. “Don’t move.” Scooping up his rock collection, I stood and carefully spilled them into a small pile on the bench.
At his sudden gasp, I spun around like a top just in time to see him lose his grip. My body jerked as I physically felt him hit the ground.
This cannot be happening.
With my heart lodged in my throat, I dashed across the grass to the sandy playground, my feet immediately sinking in and slowing me down.
“Isaiah! Are you okay?” I rasped frantically.
He lay flat on his back, his small face paler than usual, eyes panicked as he clawed at his throat.
“Where are you hurt?” I screamed in his face.
Oh, God, not again.
Shaking his head back and forth, he pushed himself up to sitting and opened his mouth. No sound escaped.
“You can’t breathe? Is that it, buddy?”
Without waiting for an answer, I hauled him to his feet and grasped the back of his neck. Clamping down, I pumped him up and down like I was drawing water from an old-fashioned well. After what felt like a decade, he sucked in a much-needed breath of air.
“I couldn’t breathe,” he whispered, face red, eyes brimming with tears.
“Yeah, bud.” I pulled him tightly against my stomach, my heart hammering in my chest. “You got the wind knocked out of you. Daddy will be back in a minute.” My head reeled with dizziness. “Let’s go sit down for a few minutes until you catch your breath.”
And I catch mine.
I led him across the sand and eased down onto the bench, my legs trembling like jelly. A properly-subdued Isaiah plopped down beside me and leaned his little body against my side.
My chest vibrated with every beat of my thundering heart. Struggling to text Kian, my thumbs stumbled over the tiny keyboard.
Isaiah shifted beside me. “I’m sorry,” he sniffed.
“Sorry?” My gaze snapped to his face. “What for?”
“For being a moron,” he answered morosely.
“What?” Setting aside my phone, I barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Who told you you’re a moron?”
He sighed. “Billy Chase.”
A second burst of adrenaline surged through my system. “Who the fuck is Billy Chase?” I needed a good run from a mountain lion to burn it off. Or I could fuck it out of my system. I refocussed on Isaiah. “I think he’s a moron,” I stressed.
His brow furrowed. Side-eying me and letting the curse word go for the moment, he protested, “You don’t even know him.”
I snorted. “I know I don’t like him if he called you a moron.” I looked around, ready to beat the little fucker into the ground. “Is he here?” I scanned the faces of the other adults dotting the playground. “Which one’s his mother?”
“He doesn’t live here. He goes to my old school in Mapleville.”
“Oh,” I huffed out a breath, my system in overdrive from the fear of Isaiah’s fall and the confrontation I was no longer having.
My ass half-lifted off the bench. “You want to go find your dad?” I needed to offload this kid as soon as possible before I did any more damage.
Isaiah sat with his eyes glued to the grass beneath our feet, legs swinging back and forth slowly. He looked the very picture of dejection.
My heart.
I settled back down beside him. “I think you’re a pretty cool kid,” I admitted softly.
He ducked his head further.
I elbowed him lightly and rose to my feet, twitching the longer I tried to sit still. “You’re so cool, you’re icy,” I joked.
He guffawed and swiped the backs of his hands across his eyes. Sliding a hopeful glance in my direction, he heaved himself off the bench. Beneath the thick fringe of his lashes, his watery blue eyes pierced me even as a tiny smirk teased at the corner of his mouth.
With a surge of delight, I realized I elicited that smile.
“In fact,” I continued, heady with success, “You’re so cool, you’re icy hot.”
He shook his head and laughed. “That doesn’t even make sense. I can’t be icy and hot.”
“It’s an oxymoron. That’s what makes it work.”
The smile faded. “I don’t think I’m a moron,” he replied quietly.
“You sure about that?” I inquired softly, watching the emotions flit across his face.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I sighed theatrically. “Finally, someone’s showing some common sense around here!”
He laughed, his eyes lighting up in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar.
“You want ice cream, Iceman?”
He nodded.
I cupped my palm around his shoulder. “Okay, buddy. Let’s catch up to your dad and hit Mary Lou’s.”
By the time we scooped up his rocks and walked up to the street, Kian rounded the corner at a light jog. The cavalry had arrived. Relief hit me so hard in the solar plexus my breath escaped in a harsh whoosh.
Even from a distance, I read the concern on his handsome face. I braced myself for the harsh admonishment that was surely coming my way. My heart rate picked up and galloped along beside me.
I lifted my hand in a weak wave, assuring Kian that everything was fine though it felt far from it.
As I lowered my arm, Isaiah slipped his tiny hand into mine.
I swallowed hard.
Fine did not even begin to describe the warmth that spread through my chest at that small act of affection.
That warmth held me while Kian dismissed my worry, assuring me that accidents happened, and Isaiah knew better than to climb to the top without help.
That warmth expanded when we got to Mary Lou’s and Isaiah insisted on sharing a banana split with me.
It followed me inside and up the stairs to my room after they left.
But in the ensuing quiet, I felt his small neck beneath my palm.
Felt the tremor of fear and shock vibrating his little body.
God, what if he’d hurt his neck or his back? I’d hauled him up like a sack of potatoes without thinking.
I could have made it so much worse.
I could have killed him.
You’re not responsible enough to be around children.