Landon fell into step beside me. “You asked Mom about me?” The thread of hope in his tone created a complicated symphony in my chest. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and let his scent comfort me, but I hadn’t earned that right.
However, I could earn it.
“I… stopped by early Monday morning.”
“Why?”
When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my good arm and stopped, turning me to face him. “I told you I was staying.”
Unhelpful words about other men who’d broken their promises pressed against my lips, but I refused to give them my voice.
“When will you learn I mean what I say?” His soft words promised understanding and acceptance, not judgment.
I dug deep, trying to summon the courage to pull back the curtain and show him the level of destruction I’d hidden for years.
“Look, I know you dated some real winners, but?—”
“My mom’s boyfriend murdered her,” I blurted out.
Shock widened his eyes. “Jesus, Mercy.”
“Yeah. And he wasn’t the worst guy she dated. At least not until the end.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty. I was in college, but Ben was only eight. He was hiding in his room when it happened.” I started walking again, and he joined me.
“That….” He blew out a breath. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m aware of my trust issues, but they’re deeply ingrained.”
“Noted.” We took several more steps in silence. “I didn’t have sex with Peach.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, but the men in my life haven’t always told the truth. It’s taken me a while to see that you’re different.”
He watched me from the corner of his eye but didn’t respond. When we arrived at Beth’s house, she dashed out the door to envelop me in a very mom-like embrace, then spent the rest of the walk filling me in on what I’d missed at work as Landon fell behind. I was only half listening, acutely aware of the man at my back, and the vast unknown of everything his presence implied. When we reached the school, he surprised me by following me into my office.
“I know you’re dying to ask me what I’m doing here,” he said, cracking a grin that made my panties want to melt right off. He tugged a stack of folded papers from a coat pocket and slapped them on my desk. “My background check. Morse also emailed you a copy.”
Stunned, I looked from the papers back to him. “Why?”
“Because you have trust issues. Also, I’m helping with the party, and you wouldn’t have time to run a background check.”
“Again, why?”
He shrugged. “This school’s important to you. I want to see why.”
The party started in the gym. We lined up the students at the door, and the bikers took over. With a series of whistles and commands, they marched the kids through candy-striped poles adorning the archways of a giant Welcome to the North Pole sign that marked the entrance. They sat the kids in the middle of the gym, surrounded by painted cardboard fences that separated numbered stations holding Christmas-themed games, an obstacle course, and a table for Elenore’s science tricks. The buzz of excitement was contagious, and even I had a difficult time sitting still as Wasp explained the rules of each station and Rabbit divided everyone up to start at different locations.
The party was so well organized, I had nothing to do but sit back and watch.
Landon worked beside Wasp at the Pin the Nose on Rudolf game station. Landon blindfolded the kids, spun them around a few times, and gave them a sticky nose to attach. It was Wasp’s job to direct the children to the wall, but he kept giving faulty directions, trying to get them to stick Landon instead. The level of laughter coming from their station alone melted all the remaining ice in my soul.
Every fifteen minutes, Havoc blew a whistle, and the students rotated to the next station. This continued for an hour and a half, ensuring each group hit all six stations, and then we headed into the cafeteria for lunch. The overhead lights were off, allowing the colored Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling to softly illuminate the room. Elegant red linens covered tables set with fancy-looking disposable plates and glasses. Artificial mini fir trees and stockings added decoration, but the real draw was the food. Festive fresh fruit and veggie trays; warm rolls, chicken nuggets; turkey, ham, and roast beef finger sandwiches cut into Christmas shapes; mashed potatoes; sweet potatoes; and real mac-n-cheese had even the pickiest eaters drooling.
“It looks so magical,” a little girl named Lana said, squeezing my hand.
It was magical. I snapped tons of pictures for the board and, because these guys had shown up for my students like no one ever had, I wanted photographic evidence of their kindness. These kids needed men like the Dead Presidents in their lives. In fact, so did I.
