On Solid Ground (A Touch of Fate)

by K. L. Grayson

  Tyson’s breathing is getting faster, and I decide to put us both out of our misery. “Please, Ty,” I beg, giving him what he wants. “Fuck me, please.”

  He doesn’t say a word, but the sound that comes from his mouth when he finally pushes inside me is one of the sexiest sounds in the world.

  “No,” he says when I pull my hand back. “Touch yourself, baby. Feel me sliding inside of you.” That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. My back arches and I pump my hips, matching his movements thrust for thrust as I shatter into a million tiny pieces. Tyson quickly follows suit. His body stiffens behind mine, his hips slowing to jerky movements. Bending forward, he peppers kisses up my spine until he reaches my ear.

  “I’m going to love you forever,” he says, nuzzling his nose into the side of my neck.

  I like the sound of that.

  “Alright, babe,” Tyson says, kissing my cheek softly. “I gotta go. You and Max enjoy your day together.” He steps away and I yank him back. It took Tyson and me a couple of days to regain our footing after our epic round of make-up sex. That boy kept me up well into the wee hours of the morning, and then I woke up a couple of hours later with his head buried between my thighs. Needless to say, the make-up sex did nothing but light a fire in our already active sex life.

  Not only that, but I even remained calm when Tyson went to Brittany’s house. He collected the money she insisted on paying him, as well as his box of pictures and his grandfather’s nightstand, which now sits proudly next to Max’s bed.

  “Really?” I scoff. “All I get is a peck on the cheek?”

  Tyson grins and then looks around the kitchen. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he wraps his arm around my back and hauls me in close. His mouth fuses to mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth without permission … not that he needed it. He walks us backward until my butt hits the counter. His erection pushes against my belly, swelling with each passing second.

  “You guys kiss a lot.”

  Tyson jerks back at the sound of Max’s voice, but I just laugh. Seeing the frightened look on Tyson’s face when we get caught kissing never gets old.

  “Well, that’s what moms and dads do,” I say, pushing on my tiptoes to give Tyson one last kiss. “Have a good day, baby. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Then Tyson turns to Max and raises his hand in the air for a high-five, only his arm is way above Max’s head. Max jumps several times, grunting with each hop, until he finally hits his mark. “That’s my boy,” Ty says, mussing up Max’s hair. “Be good for your mom, got it?”

  Max nods. “Got it.”

  Tyson walks out of the house and I turn to Max. It’s been so long since it’s been just the two of us, and I know that these moments are going to dwindle even more when the baby arrives so I want to soak up every single second that I can.

  “What do you want to do today?” I ask, grabbing my phone to check the forecast.

  “Can we go to the skate park?” Before I even have a chance to answer, Max is slipping on his shoes. I should’ve known he’d want to go to the skate park. Ever since Tyson bought him a skateboard for his birthday, that’s all he wants to do.

  “Let’s do it.” Max heads for the door and I follow him out. He grabs his skateboard that’s leaning against the side of the house and puts it in the car before climbing in. I watch as he plops down in his booster and buckles himself up and then I shut the door and get behind the wheel.

  It’s been fun watching him grow up and learn how to do things on his own, but sometimes it’s the small things I miss … walking him into school, pushing him on the swing, buckling him up before stealing a kiss. It makes me sad to think that, for the most part, I’ll never do those things for Max again. But then I remember the precious little life growing inside of me and the sadness fades just a bit.

  The drive to the park is quick, and Max is out of the car with his skateboard before I even shut off the engine. It’s a beautiful day, so the skate park is packed with kids of all ages. Max jumps right in on one of the smaller ramps as I take a seat on a nearby bench. I’ve sat in this very spot several times over the past couple of months, watching him learn to skate, and every time he falls and gets back up, a burst of pride shoots through me. If there is one thing I’ve always tried to instill in Max, it’s to never give up.

  And when my eyes find him in the mix of kids, that’s exactly what he’s doing, dusting off his butt and hopping back on his board. Another kid is helping him, trying to teach him some sort of trick. At first it made me nervous when people tried to help Max, because he’s still so young and new to the skateboarding world. But according to Tyson, Max has raw talent and has picked up on general technique much faster than most kids his age.

  “Mom, watch!” Max yells. “I learned how to do an Ollie!”

  I have absolutely no idea what an Ollie is, but it sounds cool. “Awesome, bud! Let’s see it!”

  Max positions one foot on the center of his board and one on the tail, and then he leans back, causing the nose of the board to pop up. His arms flail and knees wobble. I have absolutely no idea what the trick was supposed to look like, but I sure as heck don’t think it was that. The boy that had been helping Max walks over to him and bends down to show him something. I can’t hear them, but I see Max nod his head before he turns to me to make sure I’m watching.

  I give him two thumbs up and then watch as he positions his feet once again. This time when he leans back, he moves in a way that causes his entire board to pop up off the ground. I start clapping at the same time his board hits the ground.

  I freeze mid-clap when I see Max’s foot slide off the board, his ankle twisting to the side. As he falls to the ground, the sound that comes from his mouth is nothing short of blood-curdling, and it’s a sound that no mother ever wants to hear coming from her child.

  “Max!” Flying out of my seat, I run across the park, almost knocking a few kids out of the way. A small crowd has formed and I shove my way in. Max is lying on the concrete while holding his left foot up awkwardly in the air. I can’t tell if it’s broken, but his ankle is definitely starting to swell.

  “Shhhhh.” With one arm around his shoulders, I hold him to me. His shoulders begin bobbing and his chest heaving with each sob. “Is it your ankle, Max, or your foot?” I ask frantically, my eyes scanning the rest of his body for any additional injuries.

  “M-my ankle. It’s my ankle. It hurts, Mom,” he says. The pain in his voice is like a knife slicing straight through my heart. Without thinking twice, I scoop Max up and carry him to the car. Situating him in his booster seat, I buckle him in and then shift his booster a tiny bit to the right so that I can prop up his ankle.

  “Is it broken?” Max says, wiping at his face.

  “I don’t know, buddy. We’ll have to get some X-rays at the hospital.”

  If it’s at all possible, his crying becomes more intense. “Do I have to get a shot?” He sniffs several times, and I run a soothing hand over the back of his head.

  “No, bud, no shots. I know it hurts, but try and relax, okay?” Max nods before leaning his head back against the seat. He squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a fresh batch of tears, and that spurs me into action.

  Shutting his door, I climb into the car and call Tyson. I don’t expect him to answer since he’s at work, but I figure a heads-up that his son is heading into the ER is probably a better way for him to find out rather than seeing Max’s name pop up in the patient registry.

  The drive to the hospital is fairly quick and I talk to Max the entire time, trying to distract him from the pain that I know he’s in.

  “We’re almost there, Max,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror. His cheeks are flushed and tearstains streak down each side of his face. He nods his head feebly as we pull into the parking lot. It amazes me that I’ve been able to stay as calm as I have considering my baby is hurting, but I’ve had a one-track mind since we left the skate park.

  Get Max to the hospital.
>
  Get Max to the hospital.

  Get Max to the hospital.

  I put the car in park and walk around to Max’s side, then quickly throw the door open. He’s already unbuckled so I scoop him up, kick the door shut and carry him into the ER.

  “Harley! What are you—?” Rose’s words die off when she sees Max in my arms. I’ve worked with Rose for years now, and she’s become like a second mother to me. She cares for Max almost as deeply as my own mom. “Oh my God, Max!” she says as she rushes out from behind her computer. Her eyes flit between the two of us, and when I take a shuddery breath, she takes off down the hall. Rose disappears for a brief second and then returns with a wheelchair. We get Max situated, and then she wheels him back into the ER. “Does Tyson know you’re here?” she asks, pushing us into Exam Room 4.

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “No, I tried to call him, but I figured he was busy.”

  “We were slammed this morning, and he and Brittany ran their tails off.” I suck in a sharp breath at the sound of her name and then blow it out slowly. “But we’ve slowed down a bit now. You sit tight and I’ll go see if I can find him.”

  “Thank you,” I say, sitting down across from Max. He winces when I gently lift his foot and prop it up in my lap.

  “Where’s Dad?” he asks, swiping an arm across his wet cheeks. “I want to see him.”

  “I know you do, buddy. He’ll be here soon, okay?” Max nods and his eyes drift shut. Tears leak out around the confines of his lashes and my heart feels like it’s breaking. I hate that he’s in pain, and I’d give anything to take it away.

  A soft knock sounds at the door, and I look up as Brit steps into the room. She looks just as put together as she did the other day. I wait for a pang of dislike or anger, or maybe discomfort, but nothing comes so I relax in my seat.

  “Tyson’s in the middle of a procedure, but he should be out soon,” she whispers to me, pulling a chair next to Max’s bed. Her blue eyes find mine and she offers me a timid smile. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll be taking care of Max today.”

  I nod, but she doesn’t give me much of a chance to say anything else.

  “You must be Max,” Brit says, looking at my son. Max’s eyes open and he nods his head. “Well, Max, my name is Dr. Caldwell, and I’m going to take care of your ankle today. How does that sound?” Her voice is soft and inviting—friendly—and Max smiles.

  “Are you gonna make it stop hurting? Because it hurts really bad.”

  Brit pulls Max’s pant leg up, revealing his ankle. “I’m gonna try really hard to make it stop hurting and to get you all better.”

  “Good,” he says, his voice hoarse from crying. “Is my dad here?” he asks. “I just want my dad.”

  Brit unties Max’s shoe, pulling the laces as loose as she can get them, and gently pulls the sneaker off. Max sucks in a breath and clenches his teeth as though he’s waiting for the pain. His face relaxes when she drops his shoe to the floor.

  “Max, is it okay if I try and take your sock off of your foot?” His eyes widen and I put a reassuring hand on his knee. “If it hurts even a little bit,” Brit says, holding her fingers an inch apart, “then we’ll stop. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Hooking her fingers along the top of the sock, she slowly peels the cotton off of his swollen ankle.

  “Is it broken?” Max asks, his eyes flitting between Brit and me.

  “I don’t know,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “We’re going to take some X-rays, but first I’m going to move it around a bit, okay?”

  Max pushes up on his hands so that he can watch her. “Don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” Brit says, shaking her head. “But I need to take a closer look at your ankle.” She runs a hand over his ankle and then uses her palm to cup the bottom of his foot. Manipulating it from side to side, she examines how much movement he has. “Does that hurt?” Max shakes his head and she pushes the foot up and then down. “How about that?” He shakes his head again. Brit moves his foot in a circular motion and Max cries out in pain.

  “Ow!” he yells, his eyes instantly welling with tears. “Th—that hurt. Stop,” he says, reaching for his ankle. “Where’s my dad?” he asks again, looking at me.

  “Right here, bud.” Tyson strides into the room, worry etched across his face. He walks up to the bed and sits down near Max’s hip. Like a magnet, Max’s arms latch around Tyson’s waist. The amazing father that he is, Tyson doesn’t miss a beat, wrapping Max in a big hug and kissing the top of his head. “What happened?” he mumbles into Max’s hair.

  “I was practicing my Ollie.”

  Tyson pulls back, his face awash with pride as he looks down at Max. “You learned how to do an Ollie?” Max gives Tyson a toothy smile and nods, his tears magically gone.

  “One of the other kids taught me,” Max says. “It didn’t look that hard, and I should’ve landed it.” Max’s brows furrow and he looks down as though he’s trying to figure out what went wrong.

  Tyson smiles, and for the first time his eyes find mine. “Are you okay?”

  “I didn’t cry once.” Surprisingly.

  “Does that mean you’re going to cry later on tonight when you think no one is listening?”

  “Probably,” I mumble, averting my eyes. Brit is watching our family interaction with a look of interest. When her eyes find mine, she clears her throat and quickly looks away. For the first time since Tyson came back nearly two years ago, it hits me.

  This is what she lost.

  Brit had a promising career ahead of her and a fiancé that had promised her the world. She’d probably planned for two point five kids, a golden retriever and a white picket fence. Then, in the blink of an eye, that dream was gone.

  Brit clears her throat, pulling me from my thoughts, and she stands up. Tyson looks over as though he’s just now noticing she’s in the room. His gaze swivels to me and he watches me carefully, probably trying to figure out how I’m dealing with the whole Brit-taking-care-of-Max thing.

  “She’s been amazing,” I tell him, nodding toward Brit. Any tension that had been in the room instantly drains when Brit laughs.

  “Well, I don’t know about amazing,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. “But I’ll take the compliment regardless.”

  “I think you’re amazing,” Max says, perking up.

  “You do?” she asks playfully.

  “Yup.” Max nods and looks at Ty. “My foot doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  My guess is Tyson’s presence had more to do with that than anything Brit did, but we all laugh. Brit then walks over to where a laptop is sitting on the counter and she types a few things in before turning back toward us. “I really don’t think it’s broken,” she says. “But we’ll do an X-ray just to make sure.”

  “Does this mean I don’t have to get a shot?”

  “No, Max,” she says, walking toward him and holding her hand up to give him a high-five. “No shots today. You were a trooper.” Max slaps her hand and she mutters a quick goodbye as she walks out of the room.

  At the sound of Max’s laughter, I turn my head. Tyson and Max have their heads huddled together, watching something on Tyson’s phone. “What are you looking at?”

  My question goes unanswered. I don’t mind though, because the sight of these two—the two men in my life—having fun and laughing is almost enough to bring me to my knees.

  “Come here, Mom!” Max says, waving me over. “Come look at this.”

  And I do. Sliding from the chair, I join my family on the bed.

  My family.

  Tyson wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. His other hand lands on my belly and he kisses the side of my head. “I love you,” he whispers.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Tyson, could you come in here a moment?” I holler from the bedroom. My eyes drift to the manila envelope clenched in my hand. My heart is pounding with excitement, and my body is tre
mbling with nervous energy at what I’m about to do.

  Max’s unexpected trip to the emergency room was two days ago. Brit was right; thankfully his ankle was just sprained. Like a good little patient, he propped it up and iced it for the first twenty-four hours like he was told, and now that most of the swelling is gone, he’s been putting more and more weight on it.

  Tyson has been the ultimate doting father, and to say that Max has him wrapped around his pinky would be a massive understatement. It’s been fun watching Tyson fuss over Max the past few days, which has only solidified the decision I had already made.

  So, here I am, adoption paperwork in hand, signed and ready to be filed. My palms are sweaty and anxiety is coursing through my body at the thought of giving Tyson full parental rights. I guess it’s not really for me to give, because he and Max have already declared each other father and son … I’m just making it official.

  Tyson pops his head around the corner. “What’s up, babe?”

  “Can you come in here?” I say, laughing when he makes no move to come into the room. “I have something for you.”

  His brows furrow and his eyes leave a scorching path as they rake over my body. “But you’re not naked.”

  I glance down at what I’m wearing. “Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m not naked.”

  “Okay, but right now I’m whooping Max’s butt at racing. So unless you’re naked, whatever it is will have to wait.”

  He looks so excited, and I imagine he is because the poor guy can’t seem to beat our son at racing on the Xbox no matter how hard he tries. I hate to pull him away from their father-son time, but I know that this is something he’ll want to know.

  “Here.” I take a step toward the door and hold out my hand.

  Tyson’s beautiful chocolate eyes widen, his eyebrows pushing into his hairline as he glances at the manila envelope I’m holding out for him.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he asks, stepping into the room.

  “Well,” I say, cocking my head to the side playfully. “If you think it’s signed paperwork allowing you to officially adopt Max, then yes.”