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After a moment of silence, Ian asked, “What if I’m not a good big brother? Cory said his parents are always telling him he has to be a good big brother.”
Merit laid his free hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “The fact that you even asked that tells me you’ll be a good big brother.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Well…” He paused a moment, letting the wrench rest against the floor as he braced his forearm on his knee. “The best place to start is to help your mom when she asks. And when your brother or sister gets older, help teach ‘em things.”
“Like how to build a fort? And ride a bike?”
“Definitely.” Loyal, older by six years, had been the one who took his training wheels off when he was four. “And always be there for them. Like if they fall down, help them up. If they scrape their knee, make sure they’re not bleeding, you know?”
He nodded in earnest. “And I’ll make sure no one bullies them at school.”
Merit grinned and offered another knuckle bump. “Exactly. See? You got this. And if you ever want to talk about anything, if you have any more questions, I’ll give you my number and you can call me.”
His eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Ian.”
Merit jumped at the sound of Mae’s voice. Ian did, too, and they both looked to find her watching them from the door that led into the house. The brief touch of her blue gaze electrified his pulse, but she quickly shifted her attention to her son. “It’s nine o’clock. Bed time.”
“Aw, Mom. It’s Friday.”
“And the soccer tournament starts at eight a.m. tomorrow.”
Merit glanced outside, surprised to see the sun about ready to kiss the Rocky Mountain skyline. When he turned back and saw Ian’s lower lip stuck out in mutiny, he handed him the wrench. “Put this away and listen to your mom. I have to get cutting anyway.”
The kid huffed out a sigh, but he took the tool and headed for the tool bench.
“It’s too late to cut the grass tonight,” Mae said. “I have older neighbors that go to bed early.”
“Mr. Henry is really old,” Ian confirmed. “He goes to bed at seven-thirty.”
Merit held back a laugh at his dramatic tone. “Then I’ll come over and do it in the morning.”
Ian stopped at the foot of the garage steps and turned toward Merit. “Can I help?”
“You have soccer,” his mom reminded.
“We can do it after soccer, right Merit? You can come with us.”
“Sure.”
“No.”
Mae’s negative overrode Merit’s positive, her glare cutting off anything else he would’ve added.
“Why not?” Ian demanded.
Yeah, why not?
Because she do
esn’t believe I’m in this for the long haul.
“I’m sure Merit has other things to do,” Mae said in a more conciliatory tone. As if she were trying to let her son down easy.
