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“Nothing for me,” I said, wishing I could put Rhett down so I could rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. “But thank you.”
“Do you like orange juice?” Myla asked.
“Apple juice,” Rhett replied shyly.
“It’s his favorite.” I bounced Rhett a little on my arm. “What do you say, Rhett?”
“Please.”
“Got it,” she said. “Be right back.”
She stepped outside and the gravity of the situation settled into the pit of my stomach. I knew with absolute certainty that Mrs. Hawthorne had gone to call her husband and probably Michael, too. She was telling them to get their asses home. She was telling them that I’d shown up out of the blue with a little bruiser on my hip that looked just like Michael. She was—
“Okay, I got you an iced coffee even though you said you didn’t want anything,” Myla said as she stepped back inside. “I figured you wouldn’t want a beer since you’re driving, so caffeine would have to do.”
“How long have I been gone?” I asked ruefully, shaking my head.
“Hey, I might only be ten, but I know what’s up.”
“I can see that,” I said as Rhett straightened his body, trying to get down. I set him on his feet.
“You should probably drink this at the table,” Myla said to Rhett, setting down the sippy cup. “So you don’t spill it.”
“Go ahead, bud,” I said, pressing on his back a little to get him moving. As soon as he climbed onto the chair, I stood behind him, running my fingers through his hair.
“I like apple juice, too,” Myla said, sitting down in the chair across from him. “But my favorite is pineapple. Do you like pineapple juice?”
Rhett looked up at me.
“I don’t think he’s ever had any.” I smiled. She was exactly how I remembered her, and I felt something inside me settle at the knowledge. For some reason, Myla’s chatter made me feel like I’d made the right move coming here.
“Oh, man.” Myla sighed dramatically. “It’s the best. Next time, you’ll have to try it. I bet you’ll love it.”
“Apple Rhett’s favorite,” Rhett said happily, taking a drink of his juice.
“Good choice, Rhett,” Myla replied. “Did you know that pineapples grow on plants? Most people think they grow on trees like apples, but they don’t.”
Rhett shook his head and I knew he was only grasping about half of what she said, but he was riveted.
“I’m back,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, gliding into the kitchen. “You got your drinks? Are you hungry?”
Rhett looked up at me questioningly and I nodded.
“Hungry,” he said quietly.
“Well, then we’ll have to get you something to eat. What do you like?”
“Apples,” Rhett replied.
“Maybe something easier,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
“I have crackers,” Mrs. Hawthorne said with a smile. “Do you like crackers? And maybe some grapes?”
“Crackers,” Rhett said with a nod.
“What do you say, bud?” I whispered.
“Please.”
