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I supposed I deserved that.
With my feelings jumbled up into a chaotic mess about Ryan, I’d almost forgotten about Derek. He had shown up at the park, clearly knowing where Matson and I would be, so I assumed he’d had me followed. I wouldn’t put anything past Derek or his family, but I didn’t understand what he wanted now, after all these years of silence.
“Matson!” I called out my son’s name, and he immediately stopped running and turned toward me. I waved him over. “Let’s go.”
Matson was such a good boy. He did what I asked without argument and rarely complained. Every once in a while, he would question why he couldn’t do or watch something, and when I’d tell him, “It’s not appropriate for you right now,” it usually satisfied him.
“All set?” I asked after snapping his helmet into place.
“Yep. Don’t forget your helmet, Mama.”
After fastening mine, we took off on our bikes back to our bungalow. Matson rode in front of me so I could keep an eye on him. When he was younger, he had to follow behind me because he didn’t know how to get places. I spent half the time riding in circles because I was so paranoid about not being able to see him, that all I did was look backward to make sure he was still there. He would always light up with a smile, completely clueless as to how worried I was.
“You still there, Mama?” Matson shouted into the wind, and I couldn’t help but smile. I used to ask him that too whenever he was behind me.
“Still here!” I shouted back as we turned down our street.
Matson navigated his bike onto the sidewalk and made the sharp turn into the small driveway, and we followed it to the back of the house. As I opened our one-car garage, he dropped his bike to the ground and skipped toward the back entrance.
“Uh, excuse me,” I said and he stopped, slowly turning to face me with a concerned expression. “Is that where your bike goes?”
His chin dropped to his chest. “No. Sorry.”
“Come back here and put it where it belongs, please,” I told him, and watched while he picked his bike up and walked it inside the garage, then placed it gently against the far wall. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said automatically as he waited for me.
After I closed the garage door, Matson took my hand and held it as we walked toward our back door. I loved that my eight-year-old son still held my hand, and I hated knowing that it wouldn’t last forever. Someday soon, he’d be too embarrassed to hold my hand in public, and my heart would surely break a little when that day came.
“Can I open it?” He looked up at me with big blue eyes and I handed my keys over. The key refused to go in at first, and I resisted the urge to help as Matson turned it upside down and tried again. When it slid in easily, he turned it, opening the door for us with a proud smile.
Closing the door behind us, I clicked the lock into place. “Matson, remember to lock the doors behind you, okay?”
“Why? It’s not dark out.”
How could I explain to my son that bad guys didn’t only exist in the dark? I didn’t want to scare him, but I needed him to make safe, smart choices, especially if Derek was lingering in the area.
“Just for right now. Let’s lock the doors all the time.”
“Who was that man earlier, Mama?”
“Ryan?”
“No, I met Ryan.” Matson’s face pinched with childlike concern. “The other one. The mean one who was yelling.”
“He’s no one, baby.” I wasn’t ready, couldn’t tell him that the scary man was his father. Not before I knew what it was Derek even wanted, or how long he planned on sticking around.
Matson narrowed his eyes, thinking, then gave me a nod. “I like Ryan,” he said, and my heart skipped.
“You do?”
“Yeah. But I don’t like the other man.” When I nodded but didn’t say anything, Matson asked, “Is he why we’re locking the doors all the time?”
That was a question I didn’t want to answer but couldn’t avoid. “Yes. He’s the reason why.”
Matson nodded again like everything suddenly made perfect sense, when it shouldn’t have made sense at all. “Okay.”
“Want to take a quick shower before we go to Nana’s?”
