Page 84 of View With Your Heart

“What are we eating?”

“Frosted Flakes,” Gee says, nodding at the box. I haven’t had that cereal since I was a kid.

“Sounds perfect.” I take the box and help myself.

“What are you doing today?” Gee cheerfully asks, and I look at Britton to see if she’s told him what happened. She nods as if to say he knows.

“My mum . . . passed away,” I say, swallowing around the words. “I need to get back to Grandpa Jack and help him out.”

Gee watches me as I stare down at the dry cereal in my bowl. “It’s like my dad.”

I nod, blinking to dull the burn in my eyes before looking up at him. “You know, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I know I’m not him, but I’d like to be . . . someone to you.”

Gee looks at me. “You’re my dad, too, so I guess I’m lucky.” Out of the corner of my eyes, Britton lowers her mug to the counter. She’s standing near the sink, just listening to us.

“How so?”

“My dad died, but now I have you.”

I choke on the lump forming in my throat.

“I’m glad you have me,” I tell him, admitting the truth. I’m happy to give myself to this kid, my kid. Surprising me even more, Gee slips from his chair and comes closer to mine.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” He leans over and wraps himself around me, tightening his smaller arms around my neck. I slip mine around his thin back and pull him closer to me. My eyes fill with the liquid I’ve been fighting, and I rapidly blink, willing the tears away. I don’t want to cry, yet everything in me wants to let go. Awkwardly, I pat his back, needing him to let go of me before I become a human fountain.

“Thanks, buddy.” I pat his back once more, only when he steps away, my arms have never felt so empty. I blink several times again, still fighting the tears. Britton steps up to me and rubs a hand over my shoulder before wrapping it around the back of my neck and pausing there. My head lowers, still fighting the damn tears.

“It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?” she whispers, and I risk glancing up at her as she stands beside me. Gee has returned to his seat, and she nods at him. Slowly, she smiles, and I gaze at him across the table.

It’s kind of . . . wonderful.

+ + +

The next few days pass in a blur, but I go to Britton every night. I don’t know if she’s taking in my grief or I’m taking from her, but I welcome her body against mine. I long for it. We don’t talk about the future or the fact we’re essentially playing Russian roulette without protection. In some ways, I’m hoping she gets pregnant. I want to share the experience, but I don’t know if she wants more children. I don’t know if she wants me. I don’t know what she wants, and we should talk.

After the funeral, we gather at my parents’ house where it’s overflowing with well-wishers and casseroles.

“Where are we going to put all this?” Karyn asks, staring down at the kitchen table cluttered with casserole dish stacked upon casserole dish. “Dad’s taken care of for the next year.”

Considering the size of some of these pans, I’d say he’s set for more than a year. It’s ridiculous, although people mean well. They just want to help. They want to be supportive. They want to do something, and it makes me think of Britton. She’s giving so much to me each night, and I need to do something for her in return.

As the afternoon rolls into the evening, the alcohol flows. Dad’s gone to his room, and Karyn complains he shouldn’t be left alone.

“He needs time to grieve,” Emily, Jess’s new wife, says from near the kitchen counter where she stands. She and Jess returned from their honeymoon early to attend the funeral. “Let him be for the night.”

“Will you be able to check on him?” Karyn turns on me, and I want to snap at her sassy control—am I my father’s keeper?—but I know what she’s asking.

“I’ll be here.”

“You sure? I’ve heard you’ve been somewhere else every night.”

My head snaps up as I glare at my sister. “What do you think you know?”

“You’re spending every night at Britton’s house.” She’s scolding me as though it’s any of her concern. Thankfully, Britton isn’t in the room. She left a while ago to take Gee home. She didn’t ask if she should come back, and I didn’t ask if I could come over. I’ll be there later.

“How do you know?” I ask, essentially giving away the truth.

“Gee told Holden you were in Britton’s bed the other morning, and Theo told Meghan you’ve been sneaking into her room every night.”