“They were old stock at the toy store. But we take what we can get.”
Huh. I look at him, seeing him swallow his pride for his mom.
“How old are you?” My eyes narrow in on him, trying to work out the age logistics here.
“Ten.”
“How old’s your mom?”
His brow pinches as he looks at me. “Nikki is twenty-three.” There he goes with calling her Nikki again.
“Twenty-three?” I hum, a small frown on my face.
James looks toward Nikki, deep remorse taking over his expression.
“She’s not my mom,” he admits quietly.
I still. “Oh?”
“She’s my sister.”
A whoosh of relief flies through me so damn quickly I’m glad I’m sitting down.
James looks at me firmly. “Just… don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.” And they are. There’s a reason they don’t want people in their business, and who am I to start telling everyone I know?
“How’s that math homework going?”
Nikki moves past the booth quickly, her arms full of plates and bowls, heading to the kitchen, clearly reminding James he has work to do. James looks down at his books and my eyes remain glued to her.
His sister. This whole town has pegged her as a teen mom. A young mom struggling, running from someone, probably a horrible ex or something. But she isn’t; she’s looking after her brother. She could be anywhere, having the time of her life, but she’s here, in Whispers, with him. I don't know their story, but deep admiration fills me. I know what that’s like. Sawyer looked after me as a kid. With no dad and a mom who worked long hours, Sawyer and I were left to ourselves a lot, and he was my safe space. Still is. My respect for her grows.
“If you cut a pizza into eight pieces and ate two of them, how many are left and what is it in a fraction?”
I look down at his expectant face, his book open, his pencil ready to go.
“None, because I would eat the whole box.”
James’ eyes widen. “You eat a whole pizza?”
“Oh yeah. I love me some pepperoni.”
“It’s been a long time since I had a pizza. Pepperoni is the best.” His face drops a little as memories seem to swirl for him.
“Hmmm… now I feel like pizza.”
“It’s raining,” I hear someone in the diner comment, and I look out the window, seeing a few drops coming down. If it’s starting to rain, there’s no way they’re cycling home tonight. No matter how pink and shiny their new bikes are.
“So school is going good?” I wonder how he’s doing with making friends.
“I’m going to play baseball now.” His eyes grow big, and he can’t contain his grin, one which I match.
“Really? My nephew Kevin have anything to do with that?”
“Yeah. Him and Harvey are really great. They asked me to play at lunchtime, and we now play every day.” The words rush out fast, but I still notice how well he pronounces every syllable. Just like his sister.
“Well, that’s good. You’ll be beating them all in no time.” I scruff his hair, the movement happening so naturally I don’t even register it. But then I look at his hair, the jet-black just barely starting to show a slim strip of lighter hair at the roots, and I suck in a deep breath.
