“Because you looked like you needed it.”
I let out an unrestrained bout of laughter because Harrison quoting me is the last thing I would have expected from him.
“I could have handled him,” I say, “but I appreciate you turning up. The kids will be out soon, and…” I trail off.
Harrison glances at the school and then back at me.
“Actually, I wanted—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “What is it you think you walked into?”
He scoffs. “It’s none of my business.”
“Answer my question, Harrison.” There’s no way I’m letting him leave if he thinks that guys regularly proposition me. I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does.
“Like I said, it’s none of my business. I apologize if I stepped over the line, but you looked like gauging your eyes out with a spoon was a better option than talking to that guy.”
“I could have handled him. I didn't need to be rescued.” I take a step back to stop myself from grabbing his shirt and scrunching it tight, and not in a good way.
“From where I was standing, it didn't look like you had it handled, so forgive me for trying to help. Next time you're on your own.” His voice is cold and as distant from his earlier comforting tone as the two magnetic poles.
“Wow. Fuck you, Harrison, and the high horse you rode here on.”
The school bell rings and, fortunately for me, George comes out soon after.
Now I regret not driving because I could really use a dramatic exit.
12
HARRISON
“Uncle Tate!”Megan runs up to Tate, who picks her up and twirls her around before setting her down.
“Hey, beautiful. Thank you for bringing your dad out,” Tate says.
Megan rolls her eyes but says, “You’re welcome. Daddy’s been grumpy lately. I think he must be hungry. Do you have sausages at this barbeque?”
“We most certainly do,” Indy says, coming up to usher us inside.
Tate whispers something in Megan’s ear, and she runs away giggling.
I follow Tate to the kitchen. We’re at Indy’s parents’ place for one of their weekly barbecues. It seems the family doesn’t need an excuse to get together, and since we’ve moved to Stillwater, the invitation extends to Megan and me.
Tate grabs two beers from the fridge and hands me one before heading out to the backyard. Instead of joining the family, Tate points over to an empty bench.
“So…” he says.
I take a sip of the cool beer. “So?”
“Why are you so grumpy?” he says, imitating the way Megan said the word.
“I’m not. I’ve just been busy.”
Tate laughs. “Dude, you’re never not busy. If Megan says you’re grumpy, something’s up. Is this the thing with your guy? The other parent?”
“First of all, he’s not my guy. Second…yes, but whatever.”
“Yes, yes, I gotcha.”
