AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mark. What mark?”
“You’ll know,” he quietly reassures me. To the usurpers, he taunts, “Not if we get there first.” When he pulls me after him, I realize that was the mark. Hey! I missed the mark! I totally get the meaning of that now.
Running into the kitchen, I skid to a stop when Carson does, my front crashing into his back at the swiftness of his. With his free arm, he reaches behind him and wraps it around my waist. As if to steady me. Though it remains there long after that goal is achieved.
“Mom!” Vincent shouts as he rushes in after us. “Carson is cheating.”
“Tattle tale,” I hiss.
“Carson David Jenkins,” his mom scolds him, the wink she sneaks at me making me giggle. “Did they win?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds…” I press my face against Carson, trying to muffle my snorts.
“Which is an answer.” Carson squeezes my hand, showing solidarity with me – Me! – in this attempt to steal cookies.
And cake! There’s freaking cake!
If I’d known that…
“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” Again, a wink as Mrs. Jenkins turns her nowhere near real reprimand on me. She’s enjoying this.
“I’m ride or die, Mrs. Jenkins,” I respond. Who knew? I feel Carson’s body shaking with laughter.
“That’s my girl,” he encourages, giving yet another squeeze to my hand. This time as he threads our fingers together.
“Troublemakers. That’s what you two are.” Tapping his arm, she orders, “To the end of the line.”
“Aww, Mom.”
“You know the penance.”
Snickers surround us, everyone having fun at this situation. Which I’m belatedly realizing is how a family should be.
How mine – my real one, that is – was before I lost them.
“Fine,” Carson hangs his head, pretending shame, as we walk out of there and return to the living room. Dragging me to the couch, we plop on it and he checks the area.
“I don’t think we were followed,” I joke.
“You never know with those yahoos.”
“Says the lead yahoo.”
“Be nice or I won’t share.”
“Share what?”
Again with his free hand, why is he still holding mine?, he removes a towel wrapped bundle. Setting it on his knee, the leg of which is snugged next to mine, he opens it.
Revealing cookies, pieces of candy, and even a macaroon. When the heck did he snag that? It hits me. His hot chocolate run was a cover.
“Voila!” He proudly declares of his loot.
“What was all that in there?”
“A decoy tactic to hide that I grabbed all this earlier.”
So pleased, I grasp his face, prepared to kiss his cheek.
