Lane clears his throat and says, “But is there something you want to tell me?”
“I just did.”
“I mean about the bakery.”
Oh, like confessing that I’m an abysmal failure and can’t afford the lease payment when the landlord raised it last October, rather than waiting until January as we’d agreed upon, and now I’m in default? How the insurance also went up and I owe thousands to him and he’s threatening to kick me out?
Puffing a breath from my cheeks, I start to choose my words carefully, because I don’t want to give Lane the sense that his father was right about me—because he isn’t—when I hear raised voices from the ice. Kai is arguing with someone near the far boards, but from this distance, I can’t see who.
Lane and I hurry over. The closer we get, the clearer his companion becomes as Kai’s voice carries to us, high and desperate. “I can’t! They’ll split us up! You have to stay hidden!”
By the time we get to where he is, Kai is alone and droops like a wilted plant.
“Kai, what’s going on?” Lane asks gently.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I don’t know what you mean.Everything is fine.”
Lane and I exchange a look.
Crouching down so I’m more at his level, I say, “It’s pretty obvious that’s not true. You can tell us, trust us. You’re not in trouble.”
Kai’s expression ripples with emotion. The tough, mischievous kid crumbles, and suddenly he’s just a ten-year-old boy who’s been carrying a secret too big for his shoulders as he wraps his arms around mine.
“I can’t tell you!” he sobs.
Lane squats and puts his big arms around both of us. “We’re here. Not going anywhere and neither are you. It’s safe.”
He cries, “If I tell you, they’ll take her away! They’ll put us in different homes and I’ll never see her again!”
“Her?” Lane leans in.
Drawing back, I ask, “Kai, who is ‘her’?”
Eyes wide, Lane and I seem to be wondering the same thing. Were we right about Desi having another child?
CHAPTER 13
Kai just shakes his head,breaks free from us, and skates toward the other end of the rink much faster than I knew he could go before he disappears into the evening.
Panic mounting, we find his sneakers. After another five minutes of searching, I hear sniffling coming from under the bakery booth table.
Lane manages to draw him out and he darts again, but with my husband being a professional athlete and the kid still wearing skates, he manages to block him from running again.
My maternal instincts come out of nowhere as I contemplate what I would’ve wanted at this age, feeling lost and confused without my mom. “That’s it,” I call, looking at my wrist as if I’m wearing a watch. “We’re going to the bakery. It’s hot chocolate o’clock.”
A long thirty seconds pass.
Kai lets out a snorty little sniffle. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now,” I say firmly. “And it’s definitely pastime for some truth-telling.”
The Busy Bee feels much like it does early in themorning—a quiet little sanctuary. A place where secrets are safe and sweets are in abundance. Lane makes hot chocolate while Kai helps me select some toppings.
When we sit down at a table, my voice is firm when I say, “Listen carefully, you’re not being rewarded for poor behavior. But seeing as we’re a family, you need to know that if something is going on, you can come to us for help before it gets out of hand.”
Kai nods, taking a small sip.
Lane, picking up on what I’m saying, in a poor imitation of a British accent, says, “Henceforth, I declare hot chocolate o’clock the official occasion for our family to discuss the good, the bad, and the ugly.”
