The Hacker (The Bro Series Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  Holden’s sexy, stoic face floods into my mind, flushing my face.

  “Unless…” Joanne instantly catches the change. “Unless there is someone you are interested in and not telling me about!”

  “It’s...not exactly an ideal situation.”

  The words lift her brow. “Because…”

  I opt for silence as my answer.

  “Is he married?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Recently divorced?”

  Widowed. And not recently at all. Sage had just turned six months when Beth died in a car crash. He’s had plenty of time to cope and move forward yet he hasn’t. There are more times than I care to admit where I feel like I’m trapped in her icy shadow, but the closer we get the more he allows me to see the cracks in the charming character she always appeared to be.

  Joanne lets out a disapproving sigh, “Meena, the only thing worse than an inability to attach yourself to meaningful relationships outside of your family is attaching yourself to someone who is unavailable, emotionally, mentally, and or physically.”

  My cell phone interrupts her lecture with a cheerful ringing. At the same time I pull it out of my pocket to shut it off, I announce, “I gotta go.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “No one. It’s an alarm.” Once the device is back in my jeans, I pick up the box and shut the door to the closet behind me. “I’m going up to Sage’s preschool today for Firetruck Day, but don’t want a shit parking space.”

  Her face scrunches in confusion.

  “It’s fire safety week and the local fire department is coming over to talk to the kids about safety and let them tour the truck. I’m gonna go, take some pictures, and then we’ll grab lunch and some ice cream before picking Lynk up from school. We might go to the park after that. Lynk likes to kick his soccer ball around the big field the day before a game and Sage loves to make bouquets from the weeds she picks.”

  “Sounds like a fun Friday.” She offers me a smile. “For them.”

  The additional snide comment rolls my eyes. “I get it, Joanne. I need a life. I’ll look into that.”

  We exchange friendly smiles and goodbyes before I hustle back to my car.

  Thankfully the drive to Moon and Stars Childhood Academy isn’t filled with traffic. Rather than risk having to park in the far lot and hike over to the building in my wedges, I decide I’ll drop off the toys I collected on Sunday instead. Lynk plays first thing tomorrow morning and has expressed repeatedly the importance all of his family is there to see him play. Not exactly sure when I crossed the line from ‘mean nanny’ to ‘family’, but I’ll admit I adore it. That’s something else I love about kids. There’s no ‘logical’ timeline for how they love someone. They just do it. It’s based on feelings and the actions you’ve displayed towards them, not how many months or years you’ve been around. Sometimes I wish adults would let go and function the same way.

  I wait outside the building with Sage’s classmates’ parents. It’s mainly moms except for the one dad who is the primary pop in parent in his relationship. His husband often travels, missing many of the school functions, as well as the day to day moments, so he shows up as often as he can to video chat or record their time together to allow him to feel included. The conversations we have always stir up two very opposite feelings inside of me. On one hand, I want that level of love and appreciation. Mike raves on and on about the way Dereck is genuinely thankful he goes the extra mile for them to have those family moments and memories. I often do similar things for the families I work for despite the fact most of the children’s parents don’t actually care. I don’t need the recognition for going above and beyond. Kids smiling and feeling like someone cares is enough. But just because I don’t need it, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to have. On the other hand, I’m not even sure I’m capable of something that consistent. Joanne’s point hasn’t always been true. Once upon a time, I was capable of committing to another person, it just so happens I chose the wrong one. He should’ve been temporary. It might’ve swayed my beliefs in a different direction than this.

  Sage’s teacher, Mrs. Krackleberry, holds the front door open and directs the children to sit on the sidewalk. As soon as Sage spots me, she waves frantically, but follows the instructions given to her. Two other Pre-K classes join them along with their teachers and a joyful ruckus escapes the entire group at the firetruck pulling in.

  I promptly pull my phone out and start snapping pictures of Sage. Her mouth is parted wide and the excitement on her small face is contagious.

  Three firefighters exit the truck with warm demeanors. One is significantly older and immediately introduces himself while the other two appear to be closer to me in age. They take their places beside him and the children instantly hush from the power of his bass voice. As my fingers close the camera, waiting to take more pictures until after the speeches and questions, my eyes catch those of the firefighter furthest from me. His baby face matches his baby blues, but that’s where all ‘baby’ features stop. His frame is swollen with muscles spanning gracefully from his shoulders down to his thighs that are currently covered in uniform pants. He offers me an innocent grin and Joanne’s words begin to ring loudly in my head.

  Would it be so bad to sleep with a firefighter?

  After a ten minute speech about fire safety, another thirty minutes of helping the children tour the vehicle and taking numerous photos of Sage completely engaged in the activities; I check her out of school for the day and treat us to sandwiches at a local deli. She describes in detail her morning at school including the various doll discussions she had with Kirsten, Mike’s daughter. I make sure to ask questions and truly listen, knowing the importance of giving her the attention she needs. While everything children say isn’t life or death, more often than not you can pick up on social cues they’re missing or corrections that need to casually be made by listening to the stories they tell.

  Sage pauses to lick the Dorito cheese from her fingers and I take the opportunity to check my vibrating phone.

  Holden: I can pick up the kids today.

  The text slides a smile onto my face and a longing back into my system I was just banishing.

  What if he’s not that unavailable? He’s already proven he’s physically open…Maybe with just a little more time and coaxing we can add the other two?

  Me: Grabbed Sage early for lunch and ice cream. Wanna meet us at Super Bowl Sundae in about ten minutes?

  Holden: Sure.

  I turn the screen off and smile brightly at Sage. “Wanna go get some helados?”

  Sage tilts her face as she tries to recall what that is.

  “Ice cream.”

  “Si!” She squeaks, popping out of her seat to throw her trash away.

  Our short car trip over to the ice cream shop isn’t filled with talking, but singing. Sage, unlike her brother, has a fondness for 80s rock, the good and the what were they thinking. She bounces along in her car seat, head bangs, and fist pumps for no apparent reason. Her performance is the type of adorable that belongs on YouTube, or a commercial selling something you don’t care about but because the kid is so cute you watch the entire thing.

  As soon as her car door is closed she links her hand with mine. “Wake me up, bumbore todo…”

  I stifle my urge to snicker at the incorrect lyrics.

  At least she has it in the right key.

  The moment we step foot inside, a voice more delicious than any treat in the building states, “There’s my sunshine!”

  “Daddy!” Sage rushes straight into his arms.

  In one swift, swoop, he has her lifted up and cradled to his chest. She giggles while his grip tightens, an unparalleled peace progressing across his expression. The way he melts for them only makes make love him more.

  I need to love him less.

  I really need to not love him at all.

  “Come on, Miss Meena!” She calls to me. “Let’s make sundaes!”

  “Yeah,”
Holden echoes. “Get over here.”

  Quickly, I join the two of them at the counter to begin the process.

  Holden gives me a warm smile, and I can’t help myself from wanting the proper greeting he would give me if we were something more.

  If I meant something more.

  “What kind of ice cream are you gonna have, Sunshine?”

  “Chocolate.”

  “Good choice.” His eyes steal a glimpse of mine. “You’re gonna have butter pecan…” He gives his attention back to Sage. “What should Daddy have? Chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Swirl it!” Her small finger makes a tornado motion.

  Unable to resist, I encourage, “Definitely, Daddy. You should swirl it…”

  The double entendre shifts a wicked smirk to his lips. “You think so?”

  “I know so…”

  His eyes grow a predatory glaze, but Sage quickly kills it. “Add sprinkles!”

  Holden gags and shakes his head. “No, but you can have some on yours.”

  The young woman behind the counter finally finishes with the customer in front of us and comes over to begin our order. Once the three of us have our treats, we allow Sage to pick our seats outside close to the playground area where she can run off to the minute she’s finished.

  “So, did you randomly just decide it would be a good idea to play hooky with my daughter or was there another motive?” he playfully asks before his first bite.

  “It’s fire safety week at school and today they had the local fire department come to visit. I went to take a few pictures and figured since I was there why not grab her early, have lunch, and then get Lynk directly from school.”

  “We’re going to the park!” Sage announces, syrup on the tip of her nose.

  Holden reaches over to wipe it off. “Oh yeah? Think I can come too?”

  She rapidly nods her head, and he gives me a sweet wink.

  I try to ignore the butterflies parading around the pit of my stomach. “Sage, why don’t you tell Daddy what you learned from the firefighters at school today?”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, reaching over and having a scoop of my sundae like it’s his. Like I’m his. “Tell me all about it.”

  Her mouth begins flying at the speed of light, hands acting as back up to every important piece of information. I quietly eat my icy treat I’m now sharing, devouring it in similar spoonfuls to the way I am Holden’s reactions to his lively daughter.

  His kids are his whole world…

  What I wouldn’t give to be a part of that.

  “So, I need to remember if there’s a fire to call 991.”

  “No, Daddy,” Sage playful scolds. “9-1-1.”

  “That’s what I said. 997.”

  “No, Daddy,” her laughter gets louder. “9-1-1.”

  “Okay, okay,” he surrenders. “And if my clothes catch on fire I should stop, drop, and blow?”

  “Rolllllllll,” she drags out the words with more giggles.

  “Why don’t I show Daddy some of the pictures I took today while you go play for a bit?” I suggest pushing the empty container to the side.

  Sage doesn’t wait another moment to bolt away.

  Holden drops his spoon into his bowl. “Why do I feel like the world’s worst father for forgetting it was Firetruck Day? She talked about that shit all week…”

  There’s a vibration from his phone that interrupts the conversation.

  He gives it a quick swipe, a couple of taps, and turns the screen back off.

  I motion my head towards it. “You’ve had a lot going on this week with work.”

  “Still going on,” he mumbles.

  “Cut yourself some slack, Holden. Your kids already do.”

  “Was I the only parent missing?”

  “Hardly. And it really wasn’t that big of a deal to be there,” I reassure, pulling out my phone. “I went so I could take some pictures. Figured we would show them to you when we got home, then maybe we could print them out, and Sage and I could make a scrapbook page this weekend for our art project.”

  His grin expands. “You two have a scrapbook?”

  “Don’t judge,” my fussing is paired with laughter. “I love scrapbooking. I have one I always carry with me when I move.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Si. I may grasp the concept that people move on and forget, but I love having a tangible memory for myself. It’s mainly filled with just a couple photos of me with the children I’ve cared for, including Lynk from when he was a baby, but there are some others too. Couple of my parents, few of my siblings, my best friend, and one of you.”

  Surprise appears at the same time his phone vibrates again. This time he ignores it. “Me?”

  “Yeah, from back in college…” I try not to cringe at how creepy it probably sounds coming out of my mouth. “It’s not really a big deal. I kept it mainly because it reminded me of Lynk.”

  “Why did it remind you of him? Just ‘cause I’m his dad?”

  “No…” My mind instantly pulls up the photo in my head. The photo I always tried to avoid when looking back through the scrapbook between jobs. The photo I knew as soon as I let my eyes land on it my heart would ache in agonizing levels. “You had fallen asleep in class. Your face was on your arm and your mouth was cracked wide open. I took it and then woke you up. I was just going to show you and then make fun of you for the drool you left on the desk, but when class was over, you told me you had been up all night because Lynk was sick…The picture became a reminder of what a good father you were and what a good father looked like. You know, I’ve met many fathers over the past few years and….most can’t even come close to the one you were then or the one you’re trying to be now.”

  Silence sets itself between us but our eyes stay joined.

  Finally, he clears his throat and checks his phone.

  Regretting how deep the conversation became more or less on accident, I shift us towards the original topic, “Anyway, scrapbooks are something every family should have. Trust me. You’ll be thanking my memory when she’s eight and you’re wondering where your little girl went.”

  “I’m wondering that now…” he dejectedly mutters, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Swear, she was just a baby like a year ago.”

  “All parents feel that way,” I quietly comfort through the sadness sneaking up the back of my throat. “Or at least that’s how it seems.”

  My eyes focus on the photos and avoid contact with his. I carefully swipe showing him the various moments while explaining what was happening and place faces to names he probably recalls Sage rambling about, but couldn’t exactly picture.

  “So that’s Kirsten…” Holden folds his hands together. “And that guy right there is her dad?”

  “One of her dads.”

  He nods at my correction.

  “Mike. Really nice guy. Works from home. He’s a part time accountant and his husband Dereck is a tour manager, so he constantly travels. He keeps asking when the girls are going to get together for a playdate, but that’s not exactly my call.”

  His concern is immediate. “Sage has never had a playdate before. I don’t like the idea of her going to some guy’s house I don’t even know. I-”

  “Need to learn to branch out for her sake.”

  Holden’s typical scowl appears.

  “I know it’s hard, but you have to let her socialize outside of school. She has friends, Holden. She should get to see them the same as Lynk sees his.”

  He chews on the information briefly. “You know his last name?”

  “So you can you look him up?”

  “Yup.”

  “I do and I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise me that once you realize he doesn’t have nefarious intentions and that he’s not the leader of some loco cult, you’ll let me arrange a playdate for them.” His defensive disposition starts to waver. “And you’ll take her to it.”

  “Fuck no.”

  A light laugh shoots out of me. “Come on
, Holden. You need to mingle with other parents. It’s healthy.”

  “For who?”

  “For all of you.”

  He grumps, “I’ll….think about it.”

  “Well you’re not getting his last name otherwise.”

  His cocky smirk returns. “You do know I have other ways to obtain such information, right?”

  I shake my head and return to showing him the last of the photos.

  When we arrive at the selfie photo we took with the baby-faced firefighter, he growls, “Who the fuck is that asshole and why is so standing so fucking close?”