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Or how about the brooding hot guy that he became attached to and had been asking about all week? The last time he’d seen him, he’d smashed a phone. Or more aptly, dropped him off at school, never to be seen again. I was mad at Lance purely for that. For coming into my son’s life, charming him with his lack of charm and abundance of bad assery and then disappearing without a word. One of the biggest reasons I didn’t date, apart from not having time to and being too freaking scared. I didn’t want men in and out of Nathan’s life, upsetting him.
“He’s a fan of Marvel, I assume?” Hannah asked, jerking me out of my spiral.
“Marvel?” I repeated.
She nodded. “Captain America, more specifically.”
Shit.
Fucking Lance.
I grinned and hope it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Yeah, he loves that dude. Who wouldn’t love Chris Evans?”
Her grin was not forced. “I’m more of a Hemsworth guy myself.” She winked. “Nathan has a very active imagination. He’s under the impression that Captain America came and brought him back from his dad’s place, back to his mom’s.” She paused. “I’m wondering if this is connected to the new man on the pick-up list and the firm word he had with me about not letting Nathan get in a car with a man calling himself his father.”
Fuck.
My grin disappeared. How could I think this wasn’t gonna come up? Lance didn’t exactly blend in at pickup, and I’d had Lululemon moms who barely even blinked at me in the past come up and ask about him.
All of them had a mix of judgment and jealousy in their faces when they spoke to me. I did my best to brush them off while still being polite. I definitely didn’t need to make enemies of the PTA moms. I knew they already judged me enough for my crappy car, my working-class job, the fact I was a single mother and that I didn’t have time to do things like join the PTA. Or own two hundred dollar leggings.
I couldn’t care less about what they thought of me, I had a couple of moms who were actually normal and whose kids were the same and ate things like gluten and dairy. That’s who Nathan had playdates with. And as long as my son had friends, didn’t get bullied and learned things, I didn’t care what the uppity moms thought of me.
But I did care about what the teachers thought.
Because this was a good school. Evidenced by the Range Rovers and expensive cars sandwiching my crappy one. This was a great school, especially by public standards, because it was in the middle of an upscale area, which my neighborhood brushed enough to get me in the school district.
I wanted Nathan to remain here, get as good of an education as he possibly could. No way could I afford private school and the only other public one in the area was not great, to say the least.
I bit my lip and tried to figure out what a good mother would do in this situation. A good mother wouldn’t lie. But then again, a good mother wouldn’t have let it get to the point of her son being kidnapped by a violent ex. A good mother wouldn’t have trouble putting food on the table, and a good mother definitely wouldn’t have to rely on a hot and scary stranger to rescue her son, pay for her car to be fixed and pay for groceries.
But I wasn’t going to lie.
“Things with Nathan’s dad are… complicated,” I began, which she already knew thanks to the scolding she got from Lance the first day back. “He hasn’t been in the picture, and it’s in Nathan’s best interest that it stays that way. It’s been, confusing for him, to say the least. But we have it under control now, his dad knows what’s best for Nathan.”
Hannah looked at me with understanding and kindness. Not even an inch of judgment.
“Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said. “I know bringing up a little boy on your own must be hard.” She glanced around. “Especially around here. If you ever need to talk, have a coffee or debate which Chris is hotter, I’m here.”
The offer was surprising. But nice. It seemed that I may be a magnet for chaos, drama, violent men, but maybe my luck was turning. Maybe I was attracting good, decent people.
Or maybe more chaos, drama, and pain was right around the corner.
I was on a beach.
My eyes were closed, and I was relaxed. When was the last time I felt relaxed? I couldn’t remember.
The only thing I heard was the gentle hum of the waves against the sand.
I’d never heard a single isolated sound before. Not living with a five-year-old. There was music. Cartoons. Yelling ‘mom’ when he needed me to wipe his butt. The crash of him dropping something. The clanging of wooden spoons against pots while he ‘played the drums’.
