“I think you’re safe, honey,” I tell him.
“Phew! So, what are you doing here?”
“I actually came to see you…” He pauses, his eyes finding mine. “And your mom,” he tells Emett, and my son’s face lights up like a thousand Christmas trees but mine freezes.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But why?” Emett frowns and then smiles again. “Did you want to play hockey with me again?”
“Emett,” I warn. “Not everything is about hockey.”
“Um, yes, it is, Mommy.”
Severin chuckles. “You know…I don’t think hockey likes me all that much these days.”
“Yes, it does!” Emett protests. “Everyone loses from time to time, that’s okay! You just need to learn from your mistakes and do better next time. Right, Mommy?”
A genuine smile grazes my lips. “Look at that, he does remember the things I tell him, but only when it’s convenient for him.”
“Okay, so if we’re not playing hockey…I guess we can color.”
“Emett, I’m sure Severin’s very busy and he’s not here to color—”
“Actually, I’ll have you know, I’m a professional colorist,” Severin interrupts me. “And I do need more pictures for my kitchen. That one you gave me last week is all lonely there.”
My jaw must actually, physically, be on the floor. He kept that picture? And hung it up?
“Are you really?” Emett giggles.
“Yep. Now, where are those coloring pages?”
“Come on, you can sit with me in my spot.” He gets down from Severin’s arms and takes his hand instead, leading him down the bar. “These are kiddie ones,” Emett says flippantly, as if he’s not one of those kids, showing a few place mats I gave him. “All of the cool ones are at home, but we have to stay here for a little bit while Mommy finishes work, and then I’ll show you the good stuff.”
I watch Severin rolling those puffy lips, his short mustache twitching as he tries to hide his laugh.
Jesus Christ…I’m checking out a professional hockey player’s lips while he’s coloring with my son. At my work. After he looked at me like I was his enemy.
What is this? Some kind of alternate universe?
“Severin Minaev, is it?” Liam asks, leaning on his arms against the counter as he watches him carefully. Almost threateningly.
“Yeah, it is.”
“That’s Uncle Liam,” Emett introduces Liam, and Severin moves his gaze between us.
“I didn’t know you had another brother.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m not her brother,” Liam says just as someone hollers for him from the other side, needing a drink.
Reluctantly shooting me a glare I don’t understand, Liam moves over to take care of the customers.
“He’s just Uncle Liam, Mr. Brick. Here, I have the best blue crayon for you.” Emett hands him the small crayon that looks almost comical in Severin’s large hand as he squeezes it and starts drawing. Slowly, carefully, as if it’s a piece of gold and not just some paper.
A shiver runs down my spine when I think what those hands could do to me. How they could touch me. Own me. Protect me.
