by Jane Henry
“Okay,” he sighed as Alice turned her attention back to the stove.
But a minute later, he piped up, “Hey, Momma? What should I do if I see a big, scary giant outside the window?”
Alice shook her head at her boy’s imagination. “Oh, definitely call me for giants too. Giants and mutants. Just not spiders,” she added under her breath.
“Momma? There’s a scary giant outside right now.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Wow, you really don’t wanna do that math homework, huh?”
“No, honest, Momma! Look!”
Alice pursed her lips and turned toward the dark front window, prepared to see a random stack of boxes and trash that might, if she squinted, look like a hulking giant under the glow of the streetlights to an imaginative little boy.
She was absolutely not prepared to see Alexander Slater walking up her front steps with a paper grocery bag in one hand and what appeared to be a duffel bag in the other.
Her heart began to pound. Slay was here? Now? When she was wearing her rattiest jeans and a t-shirt, with her hair thrown up in a messy knot?
“That’s not a giant, sweetie, that’s Mr. Slater. Remember? He’s my friend from work. He came to your school fair.”
“Oh!” Charlie’s expression cleared. “Mr. Slater’s not scary at all. Not once you know him. I’ll go let him in.” The boy scrambled off the stool and dashed through the living room, his stocking feet slipping on the hardwood floors.
Alice smoothed her hair and wiped her suddenly-damp palms along her jeans, taking a second to flip the burner off before following with as much calm as she could muster.
“And I thought you were a giant!” she heard Charlie confide to Slay, as Slay set down his bags and shucked his coat.
Slay chuckled. “Not the first time I’ve been called that, bud. You’re not far off.”
“But you’re not a bad kind of giant, not like a frost giant,” Charlie quickly explained, wanting to be sure he hadn’t insulted Slay.
Slay’s good-natured chuckle turned into a full-on smile, the kind that had nothing to do with humoring his girl’s kid and everything to do with truly appreciating Charlie. That smile did dangerous, terrifying things to Alice’s heart, and she folded her arms across her chest, as though unconsciously trying to protect herself.
“The frost giants are from the movie Thor,” Alice hurried to explain, drawing Slay’s gaze for the first time. His eyes softened and warmed even further as he looked at her.
“I know who they are, Allie,” he interrupted with a wink. Then to Charlie, he added, “Almost too bad I’m not a frost giant, because it’s cold out there.”
“You know who they are? You like Thor?” Charlie breathed, wide-eyed. “Do you like X-men, too?”
Slay looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
Charlie looked like he’d won the lottery. “You have to come see my room! I have all the guys and all the movies!”
Slay smiled again and ruffled Charlie’s hair. “I will, dude. Promise. But first I told your mom I’d take care of some stuff.” He leaned down and picked up the bags he’d set on the floor, then turned to look at Alice expectantly.
Alice frowned. “You did?”
Slay raised one eyebrow. “Your kitchen faucet? You said it was spraying water, so I brought my tools. Brought some cookies, too,” he said, with a wink and a nod at the grocery bag he carried. “Just in case. Plumbing makes a man hungry.”
Alice felt her eyes get wide, and her chest constrict. He’d remembered. She’d mentioned the faucet once, during her big tirade the night before and he… he had remembered. And then he’d come over, on a cold night in the middle of the week, to fix it.
She felt her eyes start to fill and her nose start to tingle.
“Oh, I’ll show you where it is! It was so funny, Mr. Slater!” Charlie said, dancing through the living room in front of Slay, leading him to the kitchen. “The other day, Momma turned on the water, and it shot almost all the way up to the cabinet! Like, pfffffft!” he said, making a sound like an explosion.
Slay chuckled. Then as he walked past her, he took advantage of Charlie’s distraction to press a single chaste kiss to her lips and wrap his arm around her waist, steering her towards the kitchen, too.
As she walked alongside him, she thought she couldn’t disagree more with Charlie’s earlier assessment of the man. The more she got to know Slay, the scarier he got—she was in danger of losing her heart to him for good.
Alice gave the kitchen counter a final wipe-down with her rag and sagged against it tiredly. Three dozen cupcakes—enough for the school concert and some for Slay to take home with him—were cooled, frosted, and packed up in the refrigerator, and the kitchen was completely set to rights, including a brand-new gasket on the kitchen faucet that Slay had not only installed, but allowed Charlie to help install.
She’d invited Slay to dinner after that, of course, and it had gone… well, absolutely perfectly, really. Slay had been sweet and patient with Charlie in the past, taking the boy on rides at Charlie’s school fair and getting him dessert when their paths crossed at Cara, but Alice had wondered how they’d really get along when they were in the same room for an extended period. Slay was so physical—he lifted weights, worked security, was a former soldier. And Charlie was a sensitive kid, an artist, a “nerd,” as her father called him.
But she’d forgotten that, as a tattoo artist, Slay knew lots about art and design. Enough to be impressed with Charlie’s talent and express that in a way that made Charlie absolutely glow with pride.
And she’d forgotten, too, that Slay was more than just the sum of his parts. The man knew all about Harry Potter, for goodness sake, and proudly discussed it with Charlie. And when Charlie’s train of thought had veered abruptly to discussing tanks and guns, Slay had rolled along. He’d seemed completely at-ease with everything the whole night.
Which was more than she could say for herself.
For Alice, the whole evening had been one giant, chest-constricting, heart-stuttering, belly-swooping ride. Despite all the things that she and Slay had done together—the punishments, the sex, even the daddy thing—having him in her house, talking to her son, felt like absolutely the most intimate. It broke down a barrier she hadn’t consciously understood was there, and now Slay was in every single part of her life.
It was awesome.
It was absolutely freakin’ terrifying.
She wanted this thing between them to be real and lasting, God did she ever! And she was willing to work to make it happen. But trusting him as her dom was one thing; trusting him with Charlie felt like another thing completely.
So what the heck are you gonna do now?
She knew exactly what Slay would tell her. Talk to Daddy. Believe Daddy. Do what I tell you.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
So, okay. That’s what she’d do. She’d lay this all out for him. Explain all her fears—about how she needed stability for Charlie, and a father-figure who was a good role model. See what he had to say.
Charlie had gotten into his PJs and brushed his teeth an hour ago. He had towed Slay to his room, eager to show off his drawings and figurines, and to have Slay read him a story. But now it was nearly bedtime, and Alice was ready to have grownup time. She filled a cup with water for Charlie, then shut out the light in the kitchen.
She padded down the carpeted hall to Charlie’s bedroom, which was situated just down the hall from her slightly larger room. The setup was convenient when Charlie was sick or had a nightmare, and meant there was just enough distance between the rooms to ensure privacy. Not that she was ready to have Slay stay over or anything. It was too soon for that. Still, maybe they could…
“They say I’m stupid.”
The bleakness in her baby’s voice brought Alice up short, and made her stand, stock-still, in the middle of the hallway, listening to the conversation through Charlie’s half-open door.
&nb
sp; “Who says that?” Slay asked mildly.
“Kids. At school. I don’t do very well with math,” Charlie whispered. “Like, at all. I kept having to ask the teacher for help, so now I have to get tutored during recess.”
“Huh. They think getting help with math makes you stupid?” Slay sounded confused. “That’s crazy. I think that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It is?” Charlie asked, a thread of hope in his voice.
Alice gripped the cup in her hand more tightly. She realized at that moment how deeply Charlie had fallen for Slay and how much he trusted him. Why couldn’t it be that easy for her? The man had the power to break not only her heart, but her boy’s heart as well.
“Bud, everyone’s got things that don’t come easily, just like everyone has things they’re good at and things they’re especially good at. Some people are really good with words…”
“Like Hillie,” Charlie interrupted.
“Yep, like Hillary,” Slay agreed. “And some are especially good at cooking, like Tony. And some are really good at keeping other people safe, like Matteo does.”
Charlie was silent, but Alice could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
“Momma’s good at lots of things,” he finally said. “But what’s she ‘specially good at?”
Alice pressed her lips together. Please, God, don’t let Slay say anything about taking orders.
She should have given Slay more credit.
“Your Momma has one of the most special gifts, bud. She makes people happy. She takes care of you, she’s a good friend to Hillie and Heidi and Tessa, she helps at your school, she helps me when I need it. And she never asks for anything in return. That’s pretty dam—uh, darn, special.”
Charlie giggled. “That’s true.”
“So, what kinds of things do these kids say to you? They just teasing, or do they ever get physical?” Slay asked. His voice was casual, but Alice could hear the undercurrent of seriousness that said he was ready to read some parents the riot act if need be. It warmed her heart.
“Nah. Not really. Well, one kid pushed me down on the playground,” Charlie admitted. “Once the teacher's aide turned around.”
“Did you tell the teacher?” Slay demanded.
“Nah,” Charlie repeated. “Grandpa says only sissies tattle. He says I should kick the, uh, crap out of them, teach them some respect. But, I’m not so good at that.”
Alice took a deep breath. She loved her parents dearly, but her father was way too old-school in the how-to-be-a-man department. He was forever telling Charlie “real men” did something or other. She hadn’t realized how well Charlie had listened.
Seemed there were a lot of things she hadn’t realized.
“Hey! Slay, you know how to hit, right? You could show me!” Charlie continued excitedly. “You could teach me how to fight back!”
Oh, no way. Alice took an instinctive step towards the room, ready to intervene. But once again, Slay was more than capable of handling the situation.
“How about I teach you something better than that?” Slay suggested.
“Like what?”
“Charlie, violence should always be a last resort, you know?” Slay’s voice was deep and patient.
“I… guess?” Open skepticism from the six-year-old. She couldn’t wait to hear how Slay would handle this. She heard him blow out a breath and regroup.
“Okay, let’s look at it like this. You’re a special kid and have special talents, right? You’re like… an X-man. You’re one of the good guys.”
Alice clasped a hand over her mouth to hold back the bubble of helpless laughter that threatened to spill over. Charlie was an X-man? Oh, Slay.
“And those kids who tease you? They’re like the humans who want to get rid of the X-men, yeah? Totally in the wrong, no question. Bad guys. But if you hit back without thinking, if you fight them when you could have found a more peaceful solution…”
“I become a villain, too. Like Magneto!” Charlie’s voice was a horrified whisper.
“Exactly,” Slay agreed grimly. “Not worth it.”
“So, you’re saying I should never hit back?”
“No, Charlie. If someone’s trying to hurt you or someone you love, you need to protect yourself. I’m just saying to look for other options first. Fighting’s the last resort,” Slay repeated. “Not the first.”
Charlie sighed. “I get it. If they push me again, I’ll tell someone.”
“Good,” Slay approved. “Bud, when someone says something that hurts you, no matter who it is, you need to really listen to what they’re saying and use your own judgment to decide if it’s the truth or a lie. If it’s true, you own your mistake and correct it. But if it’s a lie, like those kids saying you’re stupid, you ignore it. Flat out. Good men don’t waste their time or energy convincing liars that they lie. You focus on the people who really know you, the people who have faith in you and love you, and you let that other shi—uh, stuff, go. You get me?” He paused, and Alice could just imagine Charlie nodding seriously on the other side of the door. She pressed her toes into the carpet and squeezed her eyes shut, her chest tight with emotion.
Charlie was silent for a moment, digesting all this, then he asked, “Slay, were kids ever mean to you when you were a kid?”
“Nah. I was big, and kids were scared of me even back then,” Slay said. Then he added softly, “But my dad made up for it.”
Alice’s heart broke at the implications of those words, and she remembered the one sour note at dinner. After Slay had scarfed down a mammoth portion of her homemade mac and cheese, declaring it the absolute best he’d ever eaten with such sincerity that she couldn’t help but believe him, she’d teasingly asked, “Didn’t your mom make mac and cheese?” He’d said only, “Not that I recall,” and then changed the subject abruptly.
Now, he explained to her son in that same deep, patient voice, “My mom wasn’t around when I was a kid, it was just my sister, my dad, and me. And my dad… Well, he was a lot like your Grandpa sounds. He loved me, so he wanted me to be strong. He didn’t tolerate any weakness.”
Charlie made a considering noise. “Was he hard on your sister, too?”
Slay snorted. “No. Elena had him wrapped around her finger from day one. Had me wrapped around her finger, too. Little sisters are like that.”
“I wish I had a sister,” Charlie said.
“I’ll share mine with you,” Slay offered. “I warn you, she’s a nurse and she teaches yoga in her free time. She might twist you up into a pretzel and then warn you not to eat too much sugar. But she’s really good at math.”
Charlie giggled. “I think I’ll like her!”
Oh, Lord. One more person for Charlie to get attached to?
Alice didn’t wait to hear how Slay responded. She sucked in a deep breath, plastered on a wide smile, and stepped into Charlie’s room. “Bedtime!” she called.
Charlie, all cozied up in his footie pajamas, was sitting cross-legged at one end of his red-and-blue-striped bed with a mass of multicolored action figures splayed out around him. Slay sat on the floor, propped up against the side of the bed, a story book face-down on his lap and his arms folded over his chest, watching Charlie intently.
God, he did look like a giant, sprawled across the floor of her little boy’s room, with a swath of light from Charlie’s race car lamp spilling across his broad shoulders and long, long legs. He should have seemed out of place in the room, crowded and uncomfortable.
He didn’t. Instead, he made the whole room seem somehow warmer and cozier and… safer.
“It’s a school night, honey,” Alice told Charlie. “Gotta get to sleep.”
“But wait, Momma,” Charlie argued. “I needed to ask Slay a question.”
“Slay?” she asked, raising one eyebrow significantly. “You mean Mr. Slater?”
Charlie shook his head. “He said I could call him Slay!” he said excitedly. “He said all his friends do! And he g
ave me his business card with his phone number on it and told me I could call him whenever I needed to!”
Alice looked at Slay, who shrugged.
“Okay,” Alice agreed. “But you can ask Slay your question later, okay? Another day.”
“But it’ll be too late later!” Charlie cried. “I wanted to ask him to come to the Winter Concert at school!”
Alice felt her eyes widen.
Slay? At the Winter Concert. At the ultra-conservative Pevrell and Brahms School?
“Isn’t that okay?” Charlie’s face screwed up in a frown, and Alice quickly masked her expression.
“Sure. Sure, if he wants to.” She turned to Slay, but couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s a week from tomorrow, the Wednesday before Christmas,” she explained. “It’s, um, formal. Parents have to wear suits and dresses. And you might already have plans, or have to work, or…”
“I’ll be there,” Slay said.
“You will?” Charlie repeated excitedly, his blue eyes shining.
“You will?” Alice asked, more dubiously.
“Definitely,” Slay confirmed.
With the grace that always seemed to startle her, Slay levered to his feet without using his hands. He closed the storybook and set it gently on Charlie’s nightstand.
“Charlie, man, it’s been a pleasure,” Slay said, standing next to the bed. He extended his hand to Charlie, who clasped it in some unusual guy grip that seemed to satisfy both of them.
“Same here, Slay,” Charlie said seriously, sounding so grown-up and manly despite his high-pitched baby voice that her lips twitched and her heart ached.
Slay nodded once. “Night, bud.”
Then he turned to her and said, “I’ll meet you in the hall.”
When he had gone, Alice set Charlie’s water on his nightstand and helped him crawl under the covers, sweeping all of his action figures back into their plastic tub.