“Lennox,” I breathe, crushing him to me. His arms go around my waist and his head rests against my sternum. Has he grown? It’s only been a month, but I’m sure he has.
I catch my mother’s gaze over his head and she gives me a sad smile, one that’s mirrored on Dad’s face in the seat beside her.
Running my hand over Lennox’s blond hair, I squeeze him a little tighter. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he says. When he pulls back, he keeps his face angled toward his shoes.
A pair of white trainers—like mother, like son. I’ll need to find his wellies because it’s set to rain tonight and those shoes will be ruined in no time.
I lift his chin with a finger so I can assess the damage. The purplish bruise under his eye could be worse… but still, this is a first for him.
Their five-hour drive allowed me more than enough time to quiet my simmering rage. Not toward Lennox—though we’ll be having words—but for the boys who have been poking and needling him for months until he snapped.
“I think we best get some ice on that,” I say, and pull him into my side.
My dad hollers after us. “We’ll get the bags and be right in.”
“Thank you,” I say back over my shoulder, leading Lennox up the front steps and into the house.
He breaks away from me and starts looking around the open living spaces the cottage boasts. “Where’s my room?” he asks, and I hear the faintest hint of excitement in the words, so I run with it.
“This way. I’ve got everything set up, but we can move it all around if you want.” I lead him down the hall and the first thing he does is rush over to the large window seat and look out onto the back garden. I knew he’d love that spot.
He spins and gives me a smile, the first one since he arrived, and I soften instantly. He’s here, and now this space truly feels like home.
He sits on the bench and I walk over to sit beside him. We look out the window, not at each other, and I ask, “Want to tell me what happened?”
He shrugs and keeps his gaze firmly on the yard.
“Come on, bud, give me something here.” I push his hair away from his face and he finally looks at me.
“I’m sorry I got in trouble.” His eyes instantly swim with tears and I pull him into me.
“I’m not as worried about that as I am about why you would hit someone. That’s not like you, Lennox.”
“I know, Mum, but he just made me so mad.”
“Lachlan? What did he say?”
He shakes his head and bites his lip. I’m not going to push. Not right now. He’s going to be here for a week; plenty of time to get him to open up about everything.
“Okay, we can talk about it later. You hungry?” I ask. He must be, and I’m sure Mum and Dad are too after the long drive.
“Yeah. Can we go to the pub?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
Of course he wants to go to the T&T, but Jamie is there…
I might have to just hope for the best and pray he doesn’t figure it out until after Lennox leaves.
“Why don’t we see what Gran and Pa want to do?”
“Aye, okay.” He goes in search of them and I follow in his wake.
We find them in the kitchen and Lennox walks over to my dad, who pulls him in for a side hug and whispers something in his ear. Lennox smiles softly and I’m overrun with gratitude that my dad has been willing to be a father figure for Lennox for all these years. He was the best dad I could’ve asked for and he’s been the best possible grandad too.
“Lennox is hungry. Any ideas on dinner for tonight?”
“I wanna go to the pub,” Lennox interjects before anyone else can get a word in.
