by C.M. Kars
“God, stop with the negative comments. I don’t care how many times I have to tell you you’re awesome, you will believe me one of these days. I swear to God.” She puts her palm up, like she’s doing exactly that. “I’ll text you Alex’s new address when I get back to the office, and the time. Now, what will you grace us with this Saturday?”
“You know Alex loves strawberry cheesecake – so that’s what I’ll make. Even if it cracks, he’s going to choke it down, and love every bloody piece of it.”
“See? Now, this girl in front of me? This girl’s a badass! Forcing food down picky-eaters’ throats since twenty-fourteen. Awesome.” Katie nods like I’ve done her proud.
“Thanks, broski. You’ve made me feel a lot better.”
“S’what I’m here for. Best friends are psychiatrists on a part-time basis. I expect you to return the favour in the near future.”
“You bet.”
“Good. Now, let’s get our asses back to work. Time is money, bitches!”
“So I guess I can’t stay over at your place this week, not even until Saturday?” I ask.
Katie looks at me seriously. “Little chicks are pushed out of their nests so they can learn to fly.”
I shake my head, gathering up my purse from the seat next to me. “Actually – that’s a common misconception. They say that about eagles, but I read somewhere that it isn’t true.”
She slings an arm over my shoulder, hugging me close to her side after we plop down our cash and move towards the door. “Why did I have to have a geek for a best friend? I can’t even say things without you correcting me.” She gives me another shoulder squeeze. “Hunter’s going to love you. Just like me and the boys do. Start believing in that, instead.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Katie smiles, a big wide one with teeth and crinkly eyes. “Do or do not. There is no try.”
You just can’t argue with Master Yoda logic. You just can’t.
‘Sera. I’m sorry. I got carried away. Christ, I’m sorry.’
‘Sera? Please, just call me back. I keep thinking you got abducted in the damn hall, and-shit. Just call me, please? So I know you’re okay?’
‘God, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I promised you I wouldn’t be an asshole. I thought you were with me, baby, every step of the way. I’m sorry, I misread the whole situation.’
‘I don’t want to let you out of this because I fucked up. Please, give me another chance. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just... call me, text me, whatever you want.’
And the last voicemail: ‘Just tell me where I stand. Yes or no? You don’t even have to talk to me, if you don’t want. Text me the answer, Sera. I need to know if this is goodbye.’
I’m a sucker. I save every single voicemail. Replay them with my eyes closed. Could all this be a lie? A ruse? A game? If it is... he sure sounds sincere. If it is... it must be so exhausting to fake those kinds of emotions, unless he’s a sociopath – and an expert emotional chameleon. Note to self: read up on sociopaths and make sure Hunter MacLaine isn’t one.
I text him back – not ready to hear his voice yet.
Alive and well. Have not been kidnapped.
Three seconds later:
Hunter: Good. Matty had a nightmare last night. Sometimes happens when his sugar has been going haywire all day.
Hunter: Why didn’t you wait for me? I would’ve stopped, you have to know that. All you had to do was tell me no.
Hunter: You wanna come over? Just me and Matty. We’re having pizza and you’re welcome to join us.
Oh, courage, where are you? I could really use you right now. I don’t want to be a coward anymore. It’s time for a new start, a new beginning, and maybe Hunter will help me with that. Maybe he won’t.
But I have to see for myself.
My legs shake as I knock on his door. Shoulders squared, back straight, I stare defiantly into the peephole. Without an arched eyebrow I’m not sure if my ‘haughty disdain’ look is perfected, but whatever.
And I’m sure the whole ‘I don’t care’ look is ruined with my Justice League Chucks, my work-appropriate pencil skirt, and a coral blouse that makes me feel happy because it’s so bright.
The door opens, slow enough to rival any creepy door-opening scene in a hacker-slasher, but behind it – I get Hunter. He’s wearing a white shirt with what looks like grease stains on it, and a pair of jeans so light – all he needs is the peacoat and he’s Connor MacManus from The Boondock Saints. Hubba hubba.
“Hi,” he says with a smile, looking me up and down.
I swallow hard and watch him shuffle backwards, movements slow enough like I’m a skittish animal who doesn’t know if it’s going to be petted or hit. He pulls the door open wider and wider and I force my legs to cross the threshold.
I half expect for some sort of invisible force-field to cut me in half or electrocute me as I cross over but nothing happens. My whole body breaks out in goose-bumps, and I shiver so hard my neck cracks.
“Sera!” Matty yells, colliding with my legs. His chin goes to its familiar place on my quad, looking up at me with his beautiful little face. His smile is a gift, a treasure, and I know that if anyone would try to hurt this boy, I’d die trying to protect him. “We’re eating pizza with pineapple on it! Isn’t that cool?”
“You bet, kiddo,” I grin at him, pushing his hair back. I lean down, nearly breaking two ribs to kiss the tip of his nose. Matty giggles, still staring up at me, blue eyes bright and full of mischief, he’d give Loki a hard time. “Here, let me get my shoes off.”
“Whooooaaah.” This from Matty. “Is that... is that Superman? And Batman? They’re friends!?” He leans right down with me as he points to the outer sole of my Chuck Taylors where the four more famous male faces of the Justice League are. He jabs my ankle every time he sees someone he recognizes.
“Hey, hey. Even though Batman is best friends with Superman, we both know who the cooler one is, don’t we?”
Matty continues to stare at my sneakers. I’ve just won a shit load of cool points. “But Superman can fly!”I keep going at my laces, then switch to the other foot. I don’t know what Hunter thinks of all this. I don’t care. Gah! Maybe I do.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.
“Sera, he can fly.” Matty says it like I should understand, arms out on either side of his chest, and he pretends to be an airplane. When he comes back to me, I level with him.
“Matty, flying around doesn’t mean you’re better than anybody else.”
His little face clearly conveys that I am a) insane, and b) weird. “He’s the best because he can fly! Duh.”
I shake my head, and move to stand, grabbing a hold of his hands. I look around Hunter’s apartment – the exact mirror of mine, minus the whole geektastic accessories – and settle us at the kitchen table. I feel more than hear or see Hunter move to the kitchen.
“Batman’s parents died when he was a kid.” Oh fuck, Matty’s tearing up. I hold onto his fingers between mine. “But he grew up to be a good man, a strong man, one dedicated to stop crime, to save lives, maybe to forgive himself that he couldn’t do it when he was younger, that he couldn’t save his Mom and Dad. Clark was born super strong – there’s nothing special about that.”
Matty’s eyes are bright, and he ends up staring down at our hands. “So... Being strong means you’re not a hero?”
I smile. “It means that anybody can do the right thing. Anybody. Understand?”
“No.”
I look up from our conversation to see Hunter staring at me, face unreadable. His arms are braced on the kitchen counter, and he’s practically glaring.
“You and I both helped your Dad when he was tired, right? We helped him out, right?”
Matty’s face lights up, and he kisses me on the cheek. “I’m Batman! Daddy, I’m Batman!” Matty moves away from my grip and bounces into the kitchen, that tuft of hair in the back of his head flopping up and down.
&nb
sp; I look up at Hunter as he ignores his kid. Hunter MacLaine isn’t Superman, or Batman, or the Flash or Green Lantern. Hunter doesn’t need a costume, or a cape. Doesn’t mean he isn’t a superhero in his own right.
I swallow hard, wondering if he’s as nervous as I am. If he is, the big bastard doesn’t look it.
Maybe he’s changed his mind about...us? Maybe he’s decided I’m too skittish, too insecure. And that’s fine, really. I can deal with that. We could really be friends now, and I could babysit the little man and life would go on as normal.
“The pizza’s not here yet, but give it fifteen minutes. Can I get you a drink?” Hunter’s voice has gotten deeper, and there’s a dangerous look about him. He ends up moving from the counter, and coming to sit across from me at the dining table, while Matty plops himself on the couch and starts bringing up Netflix.
“You look beautiful,” Hunter says, his movements so damn slow, I feel the inches of space separating us compress with energy as he comes close enough that our knees bump. He lands a kiss on my cheek, lips staying there longer than what a usual kiss on the cheek goes for, all warm and soft. Oh, wow.
“Alright...” I can’t say thank you to the compliment. As screwed up as I am, I’m not sure I believe him. Instead, I smile at him when he lifts his head from me, blue eyes full of questions.
“Drink?” He prompts again, eyes roving my face.
“Sure. Water, please.”
“I’ve got a real die-hard party girl, over here.”
I blink slowly at him. I’m not used to Hunter teasing me in this way, being this close. I drink it up, this tiny moment of affection because I know that no matter what happens, I’m going to cherish it until the day I die.
“Yeah, I know. I’m badass like that.”
“Bad word! Sera said a bad word!” Matty’s between us now, bouncing up and down, tugging on my hands. “You owe me a whole quarter!” He makes it sound like I owe him a million bucks, my left kidney, and my signed copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
Hunter leans back from me, a tiny grin on his face, while he ruffles Matty’s hair. I push my glasses back up my nose, and enjoy the moment. Goddamn Hunter MacLaine is fraking hot. And sweet. And badass. And I’m going to have pizza with him!
“I’ll pay for her today, bud. We invited her for supper; we can’t just make her give us money.”
Matty’s eyes cloud with confusion. “But she said a bad word!”
I ruffle his hair, super aware of Hunter moving behind me, close enough to touch as he goes into his kitchen, opening cupboards. “I know, buddy. Sorry.”
To Hunter, I ask, “Can I help with anything? How ‘bout me and Matty get the table in order?”
“What does that mean – get the table in order? It’s a table, Sera.” I start laughing as I tickle Matty, the tension from before completely gone.
“It means that we need to set up all the plates, glasses, fork, knives and napkins. Do you have placemats, Hunter?”
Hunter frowns then shakes his head.
Matty grabs my hand and drags me over to the table, even going so far as to pull out my chair. “Why thank you, kind sir!” I exclaim, clapping my hands like it’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.
“I’m going to set the table for you, Sera, you watch, then tell me how I do.” Matty stomps over to his Dad, holding both arms out while Hunter places a plate in his hand. The little guy clutches it to his chest tight, crossing his arms over it, stopping the plate from potentially slipping out of his grasp. He doesn’t walk back to the table, but glides like the wooden floor is made of ice.
I can’t stop grinning, even when he puts it on the table, sans placemats and instructs me so politely to get the napkins ready and forks and knives. I lean over the counter, hand outstretched for Hunter to give me the cutlery. Instead, he grabs my hand and puts a swift kiss in the center of my palm.
Pretty sure my eyes are huge. “Uh...what did you do that for?”
Hunter’s eyes are soft, that warm navy like an ocean full of dark and mysterious secrets. He lets go of my hand, thumb rubbing across my knuckles once it’s right side up. “I invited you for dinner, not to set my table. Matty can do it. Have a seat.”
I nod, struck dumb at receiving his kisses. Friends definitely don’t do that.
I walk back to the table on numb legs and mutter a distracted ‘thank you’ when Matty pulls out my chair for me again. I scoot closer to the table and watch him run around, trying to get everything set.
When the pizza has been buzzed in, and Hunter has paid, we settle at the table, listening to Matty chatter about what happened at daycare that day.
“We made play-doh, but it didn’t come from the yellow jar!” His eyes light up, and he keeps looking at me like I should be amazed.
I frown, tapping my lips with my finger. “Then, where did it come from, little man?”
“I made it!” He jerks his thumb, practically stabbing himself in the chest with it, he’s so bloody proud.“Yeah! I made it. Out of flour and some other stuff, and I painted it blue with red swirls. Then it turned purple!”
“Sounds like fun,” I say, chewing on my slice of Hawaiian pizza, which now that I’ve discovered it, is absolutely delicious!
Two little hands come up, palms out, and I feel like I’m looking at Katie, the gesture is the exact same. “It was.” His hands fan out, and the palms are facing up at me again, like he really wants me to believe him. “It was.”
To be chest level with the table like me and Hunt, Matty’s sitting on his haunches, taking small bites out of his crust first. “And you, Daddy? What did you do?”
Hunter clears his throat, takes a fraction of a second too long to wipe his mouth of nonexistent tomato sauce.
“Nothing special, buddy.” Hunt’s shoulders are hunched over his plate, eyes glued to the pizza like it’s more interesting than a Playboy. His eyebrows are drawn down and he won’t look at me.
“What do you do today, Hunt?”
He looks up at me, rolling around a piece of pizza in his mouth, licking his lips. Even though he looks calm, a hand is fisted around his napkin, and he’s clutching his plate so tight, the thing might break apart. I feel like I’ve asked a bad, bad question.
“Construction. I work in construction.”
Oh, man. A picture flashes in my mind – Hunter, shirtless. Sweat gleaming on his skin under the hot June sun, wielding a hammer (like Thor!), or Christ, chopping wood. I have to try three times to swallow the piece of pizza in my mouth. My legs are shaky and the image is so real, I can smell him, taste the sweat off his skin.
Ack! There’s a kid here!
“Cool,” I manage, taking a hasty slurp of my water. Emergency cool-down commencing!
“Sera? Can you read to me again tonight?” Matty asks, eyes hopeful. How am I supposed to say no?
“Sure, kid. Peter Pan again, or something else?” I look at Hunter, hoping it’s okay for me to be staying over that long. I get a stiff nod. Okay, then.
“I...” Matty blows out a breath, putting his slice of pizza down on his plate. Fierce concentration transforms his innocent little boy face to an older kid’s, one who’s already in school and learning the hard truths of the world.
“I don’t want the story to end just yet. Can you read me something else?”
Holy shit, here it comes. “Ever heard of a boy named Harry Potter?”
Matty shakes his head, and my future spreads out ahead of me. Tucking him in at night, placing a kiss on his forehead when I’m done reading to him and he’s fallen asleep. And to give him Harry Potter? To relive the adventure through his eyes? It’s like being told you can rewind time and read all your favourite books for the very first time all over again. I cannot wait.
“Right. We’re going to read that tonight.” After Harry Potter, there’s Peter Pan to finish. After that, I’m going to read him Charlotte’s Web and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Oh, and The Outsiders when he’s older! Go
d, this kid is going to get all the good stuff!
“How could you not read him Harry Potter? What’s wrong with you?” I make the crime sound worse than homicide. “Sorry. I got carried away.” Hunter’s face closes down, and I’m that stranger again, all the hard-earned time and jokes and affection and kisses to my knuckles are gone, like our history has been erased. I shiver, but keep staring at him.
By the power of Grayskull, I’m brave and badass. I can do this!
“Harry Potter has a very special place in my heart and to not read it to a kid is like blasphemy.” I shake my head, embarrassed. “I don’t just wear the nerdy shirts and shoes. I have nerdy blood, and a nerdy heart.” I reach for his hand, which jerks like he’s thinking about pulling it away from me but changed his mind. “Maybe you shouldn’t pulverize your napkin.” I unwind his fingers from the offensive scrap of paper, and squeeze his fingers with mine.
“I’m really happy you’re letting me read to him. Thank you.” I tilt my head to the side, trying to see him from a different angle. He’s hot and cold, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
When I try to move back to my bubble of space of the table, his fingers flip over and entwine in mind, halting my progress. Damn it, I wish I could lift an eyebrow – I wouldn’t have to ask what’s wrong.
“As long as you promise to stay after he goes to bed. We need to talk.” I snort-giggle, something I do when I’m nervous. I clap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide with mortification. Yup, the blood’s rushing to my cheeks, burning and smarting.
Matty laughs, the sound light and perfect. Hunter joins in, his deep belly-laugh making his body vibrate through his hand to mine.
“That was adorable,” Hunt says, kissing my knuckles. I can’t speak yet, I may invent another language if I do, one where consonants and vowels join hands and switch partners faster than any ballroom dance.
“Why do keep kissing her hand, Daddy?” I swing my gaze to Matty, biting my lip. Is this inappropriate? Am I corrupting him?
Hunter’s smile turns sheepish, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. “I’m showing her respect, buddy. I like Sera. I want her to be my girlfriend.”