by T. S. Joyce
She wished she could take it all away from him. Even hurt and uncertain, he had a sweet disposition and a caring nature that was rare in people nowadays. He made sure he ran to open every door they walked through for her today. Said his grandma taught him to be a gentleman.
She didn’t want the CPS meeting to happen tomorrow.
She should check on Trev.
Leanna snatched the phone off the pillow and speed-typed How is my little buddy doing tonight? Send.
Amos’s response was almost instant. Never call me little buddy again. I’m big buddy.
A laugh escaped her. She was caught somewhere between amused and her cheeks catching fire with embarrassment. I meant Trev. Send.
A video came through, and she hesitated for a minute before she clicked on it. The video panned from a pan of boiling macaroni to Amos’s hand as he picked up the box of macaroni and showed her. He had nice hands. Strong hands. He dragged the camera around his living room, and she was surprised at how little furniture there was. Even his dining table was missing chairs. “Before you judge, I’m happy with my decorating sense. Accept my castle and let’s move on.”
She snorted and relaxed back into the couch cushions. She liked this—seeing a peek into his real life.
He walked down a short hallway and turned at the first open doorway. Inside the room were his dining chairs, six of them, looked like. Trev was very busy draping blankets over them just right.
“Hey kid, I’m making a video for Leanna. Say hi.”
Trev paused long enough to wave and then went back to work. Okay, Leanna couldn’t help the grin on her face if she tried.
Amos walked back down the hall toward his kitchen and the camera was trained on his boots as he asked, “Hey, quick question. How young is too young to give a kid beer? I didn’t exactly have time to shop for juice boxes or whatever-the-shit kids drink. His choices are brown water from the tap, or Busch Light. I’ll stand by for your answer.”
And then the video ended.
Leanna took a sip of her glass of red wine and set it back on the end table by her couch before she responded. Neither is acceptable. You are a pretty terrible fake dad. I like your castle. Send.
A FaceTime call came through with Hotty McHottyson’s name across the top, and Leanna froze.
No, no, no, no, cute boys were not supposed to FaceTime without some kind of warning! She was currently sitting on the couch watching a cartoon with a glass of red wine and a detoxifying face mask on.
I need five minutes to get my face ready. Send.
Party foul. That’s now how random FaceTime calls work. I want you looking like garbage or nothing at all. Pick up.
Another call from him came through. She let it ring as she ripped the hair tie from her messy bun and floofed out her hair.
Don’t be a weiner, he texted. Pick up.
Gosh dangit!
He called again, and she growled as loud as she could before hitting accept.
“Holy geez!” he said when he saw her. “Hey kid! You wanna see a swamp monster?”
“It’s a pore cleansing face mask!”
“What’s a pore?” he asked, propping the phone onto the counter top against the wall.
“You’re such a guy. You could wash your face with the same fifty-nine cent soap you use on your balls and still have perfect skin. It’s different for me. I have to—”
“Your eyes are a really pretty color,” he interrupted her, and that hushed her up real quick.
“W-what?” she asked, surprised by the compliment.
“The monster mask hides all the other pretty stuff I got distracted by. You have lots of pretty features.”
She wasn’t used to men talking like this, or being so straightforward. Her mom had taught her that a compliment is best repaid with a compliment, so she blurted out, “I have you saved in my phone as Hotty McHottyson.”
“I knew it! I knew you thought I was sexy.” He grinned to himself and stirred the pasta in the pot on the stove. “I knew it,” he repeated in a whisper.
“Yeah yeah, don’t get a big head.”
Amos jerked a wicked look to her and arched his eyebrow. “I already have one.”
Shocked, she giggled.
“You don’t have a big head,” she heard Trev say off-camera.
“I’m talking about my dick, boy. Don’t worry, you’ll learn the art of dick jokes later. Maybe when you’re eight.”
Leanna’s mouth dropped open. “Amos!”
“What?”
“That’s not appropriate.”
Amos frowned. “Why not?”
“Because…it’s not age appropriate. He’s supposed to stay innocent.”
“What’s a dick?” Trev asked.
An alarm went off, and Amos pulled the boiling noodles to a different burner on the stove, then picked up Trev and sat him on the counter. “It’s your pork ’n beans. Your little dangler. Your pecker.”
“Those sound like bad words,” Trev said.
Amos readjusted the phone so Leanna could see more of the kitchen. He drained the noodles in a colander and told Trev to open the package of powdered cheese, which he spilled half of on the counter.
Trev looked scared, but when Amos saw the mess, he shrugged it off. “No big deal, bud, everyone makes mistakes.”
“I’m not in trouble?”
“Why do you look like someone’s about to hurt your puppy? Did your mom get you in trouble for stuff like that?” Amos asked.
Ding, ding, ding, she had been about to ask the same thing.
Trev nodded jerkily.
“Yeah well, this place ain’t that fancy. You spill, your punishment is that there’s less cheese on your macaroni. I don’t care if you spill, just try to be more careful next time.”
“I will be,” Trev promised earnestly.
“When you make a mistake, what should you do?” Amos asked, grabbing the milk out of the fridge.
Trev still looked spooked. “I don’t know.”
“You see if you can fix it or find a solution. If we’re low on that chemical cheese, what would be a solution?”
Trev pursed his lips and looked at the package he held clutched in his hands. “Maybe get another cheese?”
Amos looked impressed and nodded. “We don’t have any more boxes, but we have some shredded cheese.” He pulled some out of the fridge and held it up.
“Can I put it on?”
Amos grinned. “Hell yeah. This is awesome. I’m gonna start making you cook the meals while I sit over there and catch some TV.”
“I can! I can do that. I can do it by myself.”
Amos told him, “Okay, but only one blob of butter and one splash of milk. We don’t have much left. I have to go to the store tomorrow.”
“I won’t be here to eat your food.” Trev said it fast and then turned on the counter and started pouring in the shredded cheese very, very carefully over the drained pan of noodles Amos had set beside him.
Amos hooked his hands on his hips and sighed. Trev threw him a quick glance that held a sadness that pulled at Leanna’s heart. “Remember the deal?” Amos asked. “Tonight, we are going to have a good night.”
Trev nodded but didn’t say anything.
And then she saw it. Leanna could see the matching sadness in Amos’s eyes as he turned and grabbed the phone. He held it in front of himself as he walked into the living area and sank down on the couch.
“You’re doing all right,” she said softly, because sometimes a man needed to hear that. Sometimes it eased a tightness in his chest when he felt overwhelmed, or was shouldering too much weight, and right now? She could tell Amos was shouldering too much weight. She could see it in the tiredness that sat right on the edge of his bright gold eyes.
Amos leaned onto his knees and scratched the three-day scruff on his jaw. “If I tell you something, I don’t want you freaking out, or thinking it’s something that it isn’t.”
“Okay. Maybe you don’t need to tell me if it m
akes you uncomfortable.” She tried to give him an out. “I mean, you don’t really know me and—”
“I cancelled the meeting tomorrow,” he said low.
Hope blossomed in her chest, but he’d said not to freak out, so she took a three-count before she responded as calmly as she could. “The meeting with CPS?”
He turned and looked into the kitchen, then back at her. His voice went even lower. “I still can’t keep him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he ain’t mine, Leanna.”
“How do you know that? His mom thinks he is. Have you taken a paternity test?”
“Don’t need to.”
“Then how do you know for sure?”
“Because I know,” he said, an edge of desperation in his quiet voice, and a plea for understanding in his strangely colored eyes. “Trust me, Leanna. I know. But he’s different and he can’t just get lost in the system. I need to try and find another solution.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing,” he said sternly. “Everything is right with him. He’s just…too big for the system.”
This sounded like a lot of read-between-the-lines admissions, and the weight of secrets was heavy. Leanna sauntered into her bathroom and set up the phone against the mirror and began to wash her face mask off.
“Is this the silent treatment?” he asked.
She had her eyes closed as she patted her face dry. “No. I think you are a man who is only comfortable sharing half the story, and it’s hard on the other side.”
“What do you mean?”
Leanna locked her arms against the sink and frowned at him thoughtfully. “You were open with where you lived and I like that. You’re just like, this is my home and I love it, and it makes me love it for you. Owning it catches my attention. The half-story stuff confuses me. If you only have half a story to share with me, I would rather you don’t share it with me. Half-stories are a bad way to start a friendship.”
“Friends.”
“You just saw me in a face mask, Amos. And you let me watch Trev today. And you ate dinner with us. And you’ve offered to go with me to the wedding. I notice kindness, and I appreciate it, and if you ever need help with Trev again?” She nodded once. “I would answer the door.”
“You would answer the door,” he repeated softly.
“Yes. So here is the only thing I need from you, as my friend. Don’t tell me a story unless you trust me enough to share it all. You set the pace. You keep me at arms’ length, or let me in. It makes no difference to me, so there is no pressure on you. You get to choose.”
“Deal.” His lips curved up into a soft smile and disappeared. “Friend.”
A bowl full of macaroni blocked out Amos’s handsome face. “Look what I made, Leanna,” Trev said.
“Whoa! I wish I was eating with you guys. I love macaroni and it looks like you are quite the chef. I’m jealous.”
“I’ll make you some,” Trev said, the bottom of his grinning face taking up the entire screen instead of the macaroni now. Cutie boy.
And then she ate a second dinner with them. She made a bowl of cereal and set it up in front of the television, set her phone against a candle on her coffee table and turned on a Netflix cartoon Trev wanted to watch. She even pushed play on the count of three, at the same time they did, so they could watch it together.
Amos complained about the movie choice for about three minutes before he was just staring at the screen, completely entranced by the cartoon vampires and werewolves.
Leanna kept privately smiling because he got so into it right along with Trev, asking questions and making commentary as he started rooting for the characters, even hating the villain. Two cutie boys.
It was the middle of the night before Amos carried Trev’s little sleeping body to his room, and when he came back, she thought he would let her go, but he didn’t. He talked to her for a while, but he wasn’t ready to share whole stories. He wanted to know about her instead. And as she laid in bed talking to him, she did something she never thought she would do again.
She chose to let a man in.
Tonight, she felt normal. She didn’t feel lonely, or forgotten, or lost. Her life didn’t only revolve around her work tonight.
It was terrifying in some ways because she knew this would end. Everything had an expiration date. She’d learned that the hard way.
But…
Even knowing this feeling of happiness couldn’t last forever, and that tomorrow she would wake up the same person she was this morning, with the same wants, wishes, disappointments, work-load, schedule…with the same life…even so, she didn’t regret the hours of sleep she lost talking to a man who was very, very easy to talk to. And funny. She hadn’t laughed so much in a long time.
Something inside of her opened up just a little in the wee hours of the night. She could feel it, and a silly little hope cracked her stony heart.
She hoped her new friend would make the choice to let her in, too.
Chapter Six
Amos couldn’t sleep in his human skin.
He stood here in the kid’s open doorway, leaning on the frame, arms crossed as he stared at the blankets of the fort. Trev’s slow, steady breathing from inside said he was sleeping just fine.
It was late, and Amos had to wake up in a couple hours to get ready for work, but he was having trouble shifting into his animal. The damn thing didn’t want to come out with the kid in the house.
What if he woke up? What if he needed a snack, or was a sleep-walker? What if he had a nightmare of his mom’s stupid irresponsible face and came into Amos’s room to find a big-ass, pissed off bald eagle? What if one of the trailer mice nosed around the kid in his sleep? What if one bit him and he got rabies and died and turned into a zombie and started an apocalypse and the whole world ended because Amos’s dumbass couldn’t keep a boy safe?
He couldn’t even keep a roach alive.
Fear had never had a place in his life because it just wasn’t how he was built, but standing here trying to convince his feet to move away from the kid and go to sleep in his nest in the other room exposed something awful.
He was scared. He was scared to let the kid down, scared something would happen to him, scared he wouldn’t feel safe, scared Nuke would lose his shit and burn the whole trailer park, scared the out-of-control bear shifter would move his violent outbursts from next door to Amos’s trailer. He was scared the kid would see too much.
He had known Trev one day and he was already a mess.
This. This was why there weren’t more bald eagles. They latched on too hard, too fast, and didn’t know how to let go. God, he was so messed up.
He needed to figure out a home for Trev.
What if he had the pillow over his face or something? Amos didn’t want him to suffocate. What if he was suffocating right now?
He tiptoed to the fort and lifted the corner of a blanket. Inside, Trev was sleeping on his side, all tucked in, face completely relaxed. The kid didn’t even look stressed.
Amos knelt down and canted his head, studying his little face. He didn’t look a thing like Amos. He looked like Blair, before she’d dyed her hair black.
He held something clenched in his fist, and Amos gently pulled his fingers loose. What he saw there froze him in place.
He was holding the stick he’d taken from Amos’s nest.
With a gasp, he stood and let the blanket fall back into place. What did that mean? The kid was sleeping with part of his nest. Not just sleeping with it, but holding it in his sleep.
Amos gritted his teeth and took a few steps backward, pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it beside him as he sank down against the wall, his mind swirling like a tornado.
The eagle would have to wait.
A silly part of him wished Leanna was here. She would know what to do with him. She would know what everything meant. She would know how to turn his brain off. Sure, he barely knew her, but she’d kept his mind on track al
l night, the entire time he’d talked to her.
He had just gotten off the phone with her half an hour ago, and she would be asleep by now. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.
Amos pulled up her messages and typed out, Sleep good. Send.
He was an asshole. He wanted her to think about him as soon as she woke up and saw his text. He wanted to be her first thought in the morning.
What kind of monster reeled a girl in like that? A human girl he could never have?
She’d been hurt by a man, and that made it worse. Amos knew about her pain, had heard it in her voice when she’d told him about her ex-fiancé, and how did he respond?
He set her up to get hurt again. By him.
What life could she have as his friend? She could never spend time here, could never be in the path of the dragon or any of the other monsters here. She could never see his real life, and yet what was he doing?
He sure as hell wasn’t regretting sending her the goodnight text.
That was the mark of a true monster.
She deserved for him to leave her alone.
She deserved it, but he wouldn’t, because the animal in him wanted the things he couldn’t have.
Always had.
Always would.
Chapter Seven
Sleep good.
Leanna had slept well, just not much, because she’d promised to meet her sister in the gym at seven this morning.
“Who volunteers to work out before noon on a Saturday,” she grumbled as she increased the incline on the treadmill by one click.
Carrie, her sister, was running beside her like a long-legged gazelle on level six, and she’d barely broken a sweat. She was gorgeous, and athletic, had perfect highlights in her hair, and owned a business with her husband. And apparently went to the gym at the crack of dawn on the weekends. Genetics had gifted one of them with perfection.
“This is good for your stamina,” Carrie huffed out.
Leanna’s eye twitched. “When can we lift weights?”
“After cardio.”
Cardio was Leanna’s least favorite thing to do on earth, but she’d just listened to Carrie’s five-minute speech on the importance of cardio, so okay, she was here, walking.