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“You want me to grab you some Gatorade or something?” I ask.
“Can you watch Brennan for a day or two? Just until I’m over this?”
“Uh…”
“He’ll have school tomorrow so it will really just be tonight and then maybe tomorrow night if I’m still throwing up.”
“You’re trusting me with Brennan?”
“Of course, Eli. You’re family. Now, I’m about to go and throw up again. Front door is unlocked and Brennan is in his room packing a bag. He’s very excited to be spending the night with Uncle Eli.”
The line goes dead after that and I’m grateful that I don’t have to listen to Patrick hurling. I send Hartley a message, letting her know that I’ll be a few minutes late before I shift into drive and head over to Patrick’s place.
All of the lights are on and I jump out of the truck and jog up the front steps. Brennan is struggling to drag his backpack and small duffel bag down the stairs, and I hurry to help him. I can hear Patrick in the bathroom upstairs and I wait for a break in the vomiting before I yell that I’m locking up and to get some rest.
Patrick grunts back and I chuckle as I grab Brennan’s bags. I turn off the lights and make sure that the back door is locked while Brennan gets his hat and coat on.
I help him into the truck and he finds the food almost immediately. I make sure he’s buckled up before I back out of the drive and head toward the bakery.
“This is really cold,” Brennan says, tossing a fry back into the bag.
“Yeah, I forgot about it when I went inside to pick you up. We’re headed to the bakery. Maybe we can convince Ms. Hartley to make us something better to eat than cold burgers and fries.”
“Bakery?” Brennan asks, his whole body perking up.
I chuckle, steering us through the light traffic. We pull up outside of the bakery a few minutes later and Brennan’s little hands scramble to unbuckle and open the truck door. I help him hop down from the truck and he bolts over to the bakery doors.
Hartley is in the middle of the main room surrounded by open boxes and metal parts.
“Getting started without me?” I ask, grabbing Brennan before he can trip over what looks like a table leg.
“I was trying to, but I think I just made a bigger mess. The lights came this afternoon and I thought that I could get most of this done myself so that we just had the lights tonight, but none of the screws fit in the holes and line up and oh my god this is a nightmare. I just want to scream and––Oh! Hello there,” Hartley says as she looks up and spots Brennan.
“Hi,” Brennan says shyly, tucking himself close to my legs and peeking out to watch Hartley.
“Patrick is sick, so I’m watching Brennan for a day or two. Do you mind that he’s here?” I ask, realizing that I probably should have asked her before we just showed up.
“Of course not! It’s nice to meet you, Brennan,” Hartley says with a big smile and Brennan grins back at her.
“I had grabbed burgers for us but they got pretty cold in the car,” I say as Brennan looks around the bakery.
Hartley seems to catch on and she nods slightly at me.
“Let’s see if we can make something better to eat then, shall we?” Hartley asks, gingerly stepping through the minefield that is the bakery floor.
Brennan nods and takes Hartley’s outstretched hand and follows her outside. I trail after them, trying not to stare at Hartley’s ass in her tight black yoga pants as she walks up the stairs in front of me. I wonder if she knows that yoga pants are to guys what sweatpants apparently are to girls?
She lets us into our apartment and Brennan freezes when he sees all of the baked goods lined up and piled on the kitchen counters. There’s even more in Tupperware on the coffee table and desk in the living room.
“This place is awesome,” Brennan whispers and Hartley laughs, leading him over to the kitchen.
“Let’s make dinner and then you can taste test some of the things I’m thinking of selling downstairs.”
“Okay!” Brennan says excitedly and I smile as they head over to the fridge and stick their heads inside.
I use their distraction to look around her place. It’s small but tidy. Well, tidy aside from her baked goods piled everywhere. The couch and other furniture are a little outdated and I’m assuming it was either here when she moved in or was her and her grandma’s from back in Georgia.
“Homemade macaroni and cheese alright with you, Eli?” Hartley asks, and I turn and nod.
