“Where did you learn that word?” My eyes are wide as I take his hand, and Leo blinks at me innocently, following with, “You and Uncle Bennett say it all the time.”
“Swearing in front of a child… I guess that’s three minutes on the naughty step, West.” Flo grabs her shopping bags before we exit the park, and Leo runs ahead to show Donkey a ladybug he can see on a bush.
She can put me on the naughty step if she likes.
There’s an unpredictability to Flo that I like. She’s got spark and is a complete live wire—someone who’s just unapologetically themselves. And as I open the park gate for her and she turns to wave at the brat’s mother, the one who’s staring at us with heated eyes like lasers, I realise she’s becoming someone I can’t imagine my days without.
Flo McKenna.
Wild-hearted.
Untamed.
Fierce and uncontainable.
But there’s a softer side to all of that, where she’s compassionate and gentle. Full of empathy.
My heart tugs. And so does my dick.
She was hired to make things easier for Leo and me, and somehow, she’s making things a whole lot harder.
13: Flo
“Fuck,” I hiss, yanking my hand back instinctively after the needle connected to my sewing machine catches my skin. My fault, really, but blaming a hunk of metal makes me feel better about not paying attention as I work on one of my current projects—a flowy, lacy white skirt.
My hands are shaking, and I release the fabric as a tiny bead of blood pools at my fingertips. After dragging myself out of the chair and throwing myself on the couch—I’ve been sleeping on it with a blanket the past few nights because the sheets and comforter on the bed are scratchy, and I’ve finally reached my limit—I pull up my phone.
There are a few notifications on it, including one from my sister and two from Mae, but it’s the latest one that catches my attention. The app connected to my CGM monitor is indicating that my blood sugar level is low, and I need to eat something.
I injected myself with my usual insulin, but I definitely haven’t eaten enough today to balance it out. Runningaround after a child is hard work, especially when that child is chasing after a bunny.
My fingers work on autopilot as I peel myself off the couch and put some bread in the toaster, but my shoulders droop once I realise I’m out of strawberry jelly to spread on it. I immediately grab the carton of orange juice to take a quick swig, but my face falls when I realise how light it is, and there’s nothing in it.
Who puts back a carton when it’s empty?
Me, apparently.
I watch the toaster heat up, and feeling my body get floppier, I lean up against the kitchen counter, shutting my eyes for just a few seconds.
Or maybe it’s a few minutes.
I’m not too sure.
A sudden, high-pitched beeping sound jolts me out of my thoughts, and I snap my gaze to the toast burning inside the jammed toaster, the detector above the kitchen appliances flashing red as it inhales the smoke from the burning food.
My heart nearly leaps out of my chest as I spin and yank the cord out of the wall, and bang on the side of the metal toaster as if it’s choking, causing the crispy black bread to pop up. I immediately throw them into the sink and douse them in cold water.
The smell of burning wafts up my nostrils, and I fumble with the window latch as the smoke detector continues toscream at me. Waving a dish towel through the air to try to shut it up, I glare at it.
“People are sleeping, be quiet,” I order it, as if it’ll realise past midnight isn’t an appropriate time to warn me about my cooking abilities and quieten down.
Just as the smoke detector stops beeping, there’s a frantic knock at my door, and, clamping my teeth together, I open it to reveal an almost naked Evan.
His chest heaves, as if he just ran over here from his house. Wide eyes search me, his body dressed in only a pair of wonky tartan pyjama pants, looking like he yanked them on after leaping out of bed.
Now isn’t the time to wonder if he sleeps naked, but my mind goes there anyway.
“Your smoke detector was going off,” he states, as if I hadn’t heard it myself. “You scared the shit out of me. Are you okay?”
