Chapter 6
Family Package
Maliyah
"Higher, Mama! Higher!" Zoe called from the swing, her legs pumping furiously as she tried to match the rhythm I was pushing her—hard enough that I was even out of breath.
The afternoon sun felt warm on my shoulders as it beat down on the playground near Moakley Park.
Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries competing with the squeak of swing chains and high-pitched chatter of kids.
"Any higher and you'll launch into orbit," I said, giving her another gentle push. "And then how would I get my favorite little girl back?"
Zoe giggled, her curls flying behind her as she swung forward. "I'm your only little girl, Mama! I wanna go to space and see my purple Mars!"
Lucas looked over as he came down the slide for the umpteenth time. Just before rounding to climb up again, he said, "You can’t breathe on Mars, Zoe. You'd need a space suit and an oxygen tank and—"
"I know that!" Zoe shot back. "I'm not stupid!"
"I didn't say you were stupid. I was just saying—"
"Kids," I said, stepping between their bickering before they could work themselves up over something neither of them actually cared about. "Lucas, how's the slide treating you? Zoe, you want to try the slide too? Or maybe the monkey bars?"
The playground was expectedly busy for a weekend afternoon.
Families scattered across the grass, kids climbing on equipment while parents huddled in clusters or hunched over glowing screens.
A toddler in a red shirt tottered dangerously close to the edge of the platform while his father's thumbs flew across his phone, his eyes never lifting to check his son’s wobbling balance.
I caught myself holding my breath until he steadied himself, then exhaled slowly as I gave Zoe another push.
Between Zoe's fearless climbing and Lucas's tendency to wander off when something caught his interest, I was always in motion and always at attention.
"Mom, can I go on the big slide?" Lucas pointed to the towering metal structure that spiraled three stories high, its surface gleaming dangerously in the afternoon sun. A group of lanky pre-teens whooped as they thundered down its curved descent.
"The one that's practically scraping the clouds? The one where I'd need binoculars to see you at the top? Absolutely not."
"But Tommy went on it last time and he's only seven and I’m almost seven!" Lucas's lower lip jutted out, his sneakered foot scuffing circles in the wood chips.
"Tommy also broke his arm falling off his bike last month and ended up in a cast." I squeezed his shoulder gently. "I don't want you playing daredevil today, Lucas. Your bones are exactly where they belong."
Lucas sighed dramatically but trudged back to the smaller slide. I continued pushing Zoe, who was now making airplane noises.
The sound of footsteps on the jogging path caught my attention—someone running at a steady pace along the waterfront trail that bordered the playground. I glanced over and nearly dropped my hands from Zoe's swing.
Reed Morrison, in running shorts and a gray t-shirt that was damp with sweat, was slowing to a stop near the playground fence.
He was breathing hard, earbuds in, clearly having been in the middle of a serious run.
Looking my way up, finally catching his eyes, I saw that he'd caught me staring—as evidenced by his cocky smirk and eyebrow raise. Asshole. He’d called a couple days ago—after radio silence.
Don’t look at me with those sexy eyes. Jerk.
"Mama, why'd you stop pushing?" Zoe complained as her swing began to slow.
"Just a second, sweetie." I gave her another push, watching as Reed pulled out his earbuds and walked over to the fence.
"Hey," he called out, still catching his breath. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Small city," I said, trying to keep my voice casual—going for detached—even though my pulse had picked up. "Had a long week? Looks like you’re getting your exercise in."
"Something like that. Sorry I checked out for a bit.
Picked up a couple heavy cases that pulled my attention.
Called the other day though. Was hoping to catch up.
" He wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, giving me a brief glimpse of abs that made my mouth go dry—Dear God. "Beautiful day for the park."
Yeah. Beautiful day.
"Mama, who's that?" Zoe called over loudly enough for the entire playground to hear.
"Why don’t you come over instead of yelling. This is Detective Morrison, honey." I said as she got closer. "You remember him? He helped out when everything happened around Macy."
"Oh! Hi, Detective!" Zoe ran over like she was ready to apply for Reed's assistant job—yeah, I get the appeal.
"Do you have to work today? Do you have your gun with you?
Can I see your badge?" Zoe's enthusiasm made me wince inside.
After he'd vanished so quickly after our coffee date, I couldn't tell if the warning bells in my head were legitimate caution or just my bruised pride talking.
"Detective Morrison, you remember my kids, Zoe and Lucas?"
Reed seemed uncertain though, not quite ready to approach and clearly picking up on my hesitation. So, I decided for him. "Come on, come over and say hi properly." I called out to Lucas as I went to catch up with my daughter.
Lucas wandered over from his slide, and I felt that familiar mom-tension of trying to manage two kids while having an adult conversation.
Reed's eyes darted between my children as I gestured toward them with an open palm.
"Reed, you remember my kids, Lucas and Zoe?
" Lucas stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, studying Reed—deciding if he should say something or not.
Beside him, Zoe bounced on her toes, her braids swinging, eyes wide with the unfiltered curiosity of a four-year-old meeting someone who carried a real gun for work.
"Hi, guys," Reed said, stepping closer but still maintaining some distance. "How's everything going?"
"Good!" Zoe bounced on her toes repeating her very important, life-altering questions—at least for a four year old. "Do you still have your gun? Can I see your badge this time?"
"Zoe," I said automatically. "We talked about this. If someone doesn’t answer you, it’s not polite to push."
Reed laughed. "No big deal. Asking the essential questions, I see. Sorry, no gun today—just running gear."
"How fast can you run?" Lucas asked, breaking out of his shell a bit. He studied Reed with that serious expression he got when he was trying to figure something out, and waited for his answer.
"Pretty fast. About seven minutes for a mile on a good day."
"That's really fast," Lucas said, impressed despite himself.
"You're all sweaty," Zoe observed with her typical four-year-old bluntness.
"That happens when you run five miles," Reed said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face again, honestly—it’s even better up close. Maybe I could forgive him for getting caught up in work—it’s not like we’re in a relationship. It was just coffee.
Damn. My mouth went dry, and I found myself staring at a spot just over his left shoulder, like I was checking cloud patterns while his abs gleamed just out of focus for me. I counted silently to three before I trusted myself to speak.
I noticed him glancing around the playground—at the other families, the noise, the general chaos of weekend family life.
A younger kid nearby was having a full-on meltdown about who-knows-what, his wails echoing across from more than thirty feet away.
Another kid was demanding ice cream from his frazzled-looking father—a father who was clearly losing patience and ready to call it a day.
Nothing says "sexy single mom package deal" like being surrounded by small humans with no filter and infinite energy.
"Five miles?" Lucas's eyes widened until I could see white all around. "That's really far. Are you married? Does she like to run too?"
Reed's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water.
A flush crept up his neck, turning the tips of his ears crimson against his dark hair.
I felt heat bloom across my own cheeks, my tongue suddenly cemented to the roof of my mouth—I wanted to find a rock and crawl under it.
The playground sounds seemed to fade into a distant hum.
"Um—not married," he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, leaving small impressions in the soft ground beneath his feet. "Five miles is far," he added, latching onto the safer topic like a lifeline. "Do you like to run?"
Lucas shrugged one small shoulder, his Batman t-shirt rippling with the movement. "Sometimes. I like bikes better though."
"Bikes are cool too." Reed's fingers tapped nervously against his thigh as he took a half-step backward. His eyes darted to his sleek black fitness watch, thumb brushing over its face, then back to me. "I should probably get going. Still have a couple more miles to finish up."
"Of course," I said, trying not to let disappointment creep into my voice. Damn this felt awkward. "Don't let us keep you."
"It was good seeing you all again. I Um—listen, I know it didn’t—" he paused, looking between me and the kids. Instead of picking back up, he pulled his earbuds back out from his pocket.
"Will you come back to the park?" Zoe asked with the directness that made me want to disappear into the wood chips.
"Um... probably not today," Reed said, fumbling with his earbuds, dropping one, then picking it up with a nervous laugh.
He brushed it off, glanced at the kids, then at me, then away.
"Okay maybe if I—ahem—try calling you again?
" His question was to me, obviously, but it was like he couldn’t look me in the eyes. Nervous? What the hell.
"Yeah. It’s okay."
His lips curved upward, just enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes without showing teeth.
Then he jogged backward a few steps, turned, then stopped abruptly as if he'd hit an invisible wall. Hands resting on his hips, his shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath before he continued running, his pace uneven. Twenty yards down the path, he looked back, his face a battlefield where want fought against fear, like a man who’d either missed his train or was about to be hit by it.
"Is he your friend? Because he seemed kinda weird." Lucas asked, cutting right to it.
"Well, sort of," I said quickly. "He's just someone I know from work."
"Oh. Okay. I guess that makes sense then," Lucas responded.
Yup. Just what I was thinking. I sighed and said, "Come on, let's go back to playing. Who wants to try the monkey bars?"
Both kids took off running, temporarily distracted. But as I followed them across the playground, I couldn't help glancing back toward the jogging path where Reed had already disappeared around the bend.
The way he'd looked when faced with the reality of my life—not just me, but me with two energetic kids getting all up in his space—had been telling. I tucked away the knot of confusion in my chest like something I’d have to come back to later.
Like all things in life, hindsight is 20/20.
Something I thought of as I traced the scar on my collarbone.
A subtle reminder of how I’d know that better than anyone.