Aiden threw himself into my lap and wrapped his baby-soft arms around my neck. “Thank you, Mr. Williams. That makes me feel better.”
“Oh.” I hugged him back, so very tightly. One of the things I loved about teaching children this age was that they constantly teetered between the babies they’d been and the grown-ups they were becoming. It was easy to forget they still needed snuggles and reassurance to feel safe. “I’m glad, sweetheart. I know for sure that your mom and dad don’t want you to be upset, okay? They both love you, and they’re doing the best they can for you.”
“And you.”
“Hmm?”
Aiden pulled back. “You do the best you can for me. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I told him, trying not to show just how overwhelmed I was at his simple, innocent declaration.
Itshouldbe simple to tell someone you loved them. I wasn’t sure why adults made it so dang complicated.
Aiden sniffled, then scooted away to grab his spelling flash cards.
“So, which are you?” he asked over his shoulder. “A tree or a butterfly?”
“I…” I paused to think about it, even after Aiden dumped the stack of flash cards in my lap. “I dunno. Maybe a bird? A squirrel. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Nah. You’re more like…” He twisted up his mouth in thought. “I know! You’re like the branches my dad grafts onto the trees in the orchard.”
“So basically I’m a stick?” I poked him in the ribs. “Thanks bunches.”
He giggled. “No, Dad gets these tree branches from other places and then kinda sticks ’em to the trees that are already there.”
“Oh, right. He grafts them.” Webb had explained that too, sort of, the day I’d fallen in the pond.
“The trees bring the sticks back to life, kinda. And they make flowers and apples again. But the sticks make the trees stronger, too, so they makemoreapples. Better apples. That’s you.”
“Wow. That’s…”
“I know kind of a lot about apple trees,” he said modestly.
“You sure do. And that might just be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Thank you, Aiden.”
“Sure.” Aiden grinned, showing his teeth that still hadn’t grown all the way back in. “I’m a black bear, by the way. I eat food and make messes.”
I snorted. “Let’s get this spelling practice done, black bear,” I said lightly, telling myself not to dwell on life lessons from a seven-year-old.
But that night when I went home, Aiden’s words… and his father’s… were all I could think about.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WEBB
It had been nearlya week since I’d fucked things up royally. A week of regretting, of wanting to apologize and not knowing how.
Of missing him.
Luke had been busy with his mom, and I’d been busy feeling sorry for myself. So, when my attorney had suggested an update meeting Friday afternoon, I’d agreed immediately, desperate for anything to distract me.
It hadn’t worked quite the way I’d intended.
“Hey, Katey. Jack around?” I asked as I walked into Panini Jack’s. The lunch rush had ended, but the after-school rush hadn’t quite begun, which I knew from experience was Jack’s favorite time to concoct new recipes.
Coincidentally, it was also my favorite time to visit him.
“Webb, honey! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Katey gave me a flirtatious little smile, tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and leaned her forearms against the hostess stand. “How’re things?”
