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Nothing matters, not my feelings, not the pain I’m going to feel. Those dreams I barely let filter into my head are meaningless because it’s all about to be over.
The grenade bounces in Kason’s hand and he squeals, a thrilled sound because the kid doesn’t understand he’s about to die, but then it transforms as it falls to the ground.
Skidding to a halt right in front of him, we all look down, and the damn thing is literally a transformer. Once in the shape of a grenade, it’s now a little army tank.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp, my heart about to pound out of my chest.
“Fuck is a bad word, Mom,” Knox supplies helpfully, drawing a chuckle from several men in the room.
Kit looks up at me. “Did you really think I’d hand him a real grenade?”
I gape at him. “Knox is upset because he’s now worried about Armageddon, so yeah, I thought it was possible you’d hand my seven-year-old a grenade.”
“I have two older brothers who have three boys each. I’m not an idiot,” Kit says, his brow drawing tighter when his explanation doesn’t calm my racing heart any. “Kendall, I’m sorry.”
I nod because it’s all I can manage right now.
“Where’s Finn?” Kayleigh yells from the other side of the room.
“Did you want cream and sugar?” Wren asks my little girl as he pulls a cup from the single cup coffee machine.
“What are you giving her?” I snap as I walk closer.
“A cappuccino,” he says, winking at me.
“A—”
Wren holds up the used coffee pod, and at least he’s not a complete idiot like the others because it reads HOT COCOA on the top.
“I like marshmallows in my cappuccino,” Kayleigh says with a wide grin, clearly in on the joke.
“Coming right up,” Wren says with a wink in my direction and a wide grin for my little girl.
“Momma,” Kayleigh says, turning to me while Wren does her bidding. I swear the child is an expert at batting her eyes to get what she wants. She’s going to give me hell when she gets older. I just know it. “Where’s Finn?”
“Finn is cracking a safe,” Wren answers.
“Did you say cracking a safe?” Kason asks, running across the room.
“I did,” Wren answers. “Are you familiar with Mystery Man Medano?”
Kason squeals, bouncing up and down on his feet. “I love him. Is Finn cracking his safe?”
Excitement curls around every part of my child. I had this conversation with Finn at the gym a while back when he told me he cracks safes. Kason is obsessed with the guy, watching his YouTube videos on repeat until he comes out with a new one.
“He is,” Wren answers, and Kason grows calm.
“My mom’s boyfriend is cracking Mystery Man Medano’s safe in that haunted house?” Kason’s eyes go wide, an even bigger smile on his face as he turns to me.
“He’s not my-we’re not-that’s—” I stammer, unsure what to actually say.
I’m still stuck wondering what I did to give Kason the idea that Finn and I were an item when Kason squeals like he did two years ago when he got his first bike for Christmas.
“Mom! Do you have any idea how cool that is? Is he going to be on the video?” Kason turns back to Wren who winks at me before looking back down at my excited son. “Do you have YouTube? Can we check to see if it’s uploaded? Mom can we go home and get my tablet?”
“We’re not going home just yet,” I tell him, not giving him the full reason why. Thankfully, the kids were at school yesterday when Adrian made his little house visit, and I was calm enough to shove my fear down by the time they got out of school. “We’re meeting Finn here.”
Kason listens to my explanation and turns back to Wren. “Do you have a computer?”
Wren looks up at me, not answering until I nod.
“I do have a computer. It’s in my office.”
Mentioning his office reminds me of Puff Daddy.
“Wren, I don’t—”
“I’ll grab my laptop and meet you on the couch,” he says, and smiles when Kayleigh, forgetting her hot cocoa, and Kason book it to the sofa.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
“No problem.”
I carry the deserted cocoa to Kayleigh, who smiles with a roll of her eyes at herself for forgetting about it before thanking me for bringing it to her.
“Are you excited for the Mystery Man video?” Jude asks Knox who is still eyeing the gas mask like he plans to shove it down his pants just so he’s safe when the enemy combatants use poisonous gas on him.
“All that stuff is fake,” my youngest mutters.
Jude looks up at me and I just have to shake my head. The kid picks and chooses what he believes, and I’d be concerned about his doomsday attitude if he also wasn’t scared about getting shrunk by a machine and ending up stuck in the yard. That fear made me realize that maybe five is still too young for him to enjoy the same movies I liked as a kid. Thank God, I didn’t let him watch Stand By Me. He’d probably never go swimming again.
