Feeling a little awkward, I shove my hands into my pockets.
“He’s fine, Olivia. He’s safe.”
“He was asleep. I just was going to run up to the porch and drop the supplies off, and I talked to Evie for a minute, and he was gone.” Her face is pressed against his tiny head while she strokes it, her eyes squeezed shut like she’s picturing it all over again. “He’s started this new thing, where he’s figured out he can push the button and get out of his seatbelt on his car seat. Smart little devil.”
Clearly, I’m not the only one having a tough Wednesday morning.
“I don’t think he expected to cause such a fuss this morning, Olivia.”
He’s already asleep on his mom’s shoulder, but I reach out and give his back a rub. The movement grounds me a little and settles the nerves the brief incident stirred up.
“Probably not.” She offers me a strained smile. “Thank you again, Aiden.”
“Do you want to come in?” I jerk a thumb in the direction of our house. “I can start a fire, warm him up a little. You need some coffee?”
Mom would’ve had a tin, or several, of freshly baked cookies at the ready to offer with the coffee. I don’t, but I can offer warmth and—I’m not sure what else. Whatever charm this place used to have went with my parents. I’m just the grumpy guy in the big house surrounded by evergreens, trying not to let it all fall apart.
“He’s plenty warm thanks to you,” she replies, motioning to my coat. “Aren’t you cold? I should get him back in the car anyway, and you need this back.”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “Get him in the car first. I’ll bring you a to-go cup of something warm, and I’ll grab it then.”
She nods and gives Jack another squeeze before she heads to her car.
There’s one thing I can say about this minor incident: it got my mind off my own problems for a second. I take the porch steps two at a time and burst through the kitchen door, welcoming the warmth as I step into it.
“You’re just a regular Captain America this morning, aren’t you?” Evelyn asks, staring out the window on the opposite side of the door. “She was pretty shaken up.”
“So was he,” I answer, ignoring her jab as I wash my hands.
“Where did you find him?”
“Far enough out there. Kid might be small, but he moved pretty fast.” I grab a paper coffee cup out of the cabinet and fill it with hot coffee, then toss in creamer and sugar for good measure.
“That had to be scary for her. I can’t imagine what that felt like.” The softness in Evelyn’s voice has me turning toward her. It’s not a side she shows very often.
But I understand.
The kid isn’t even mine, and I can imagine. Emotions of all kinds still knock around my chest, and it’s unsettling. What if I’d started in the opposite direction this morning? Would I have been too far to hear him?
The what-ifs sink their claws in deep, the same way they did the night we lost Mom and Dad, and for a split second, the trees outside the window droop like they’re remembering, too.
“Brew a new pot, will you? I’m going to take this out to her car.” I hesitate for a second and double back to the cup cabinet.
There’s a stack of smaller paper cups, green with red Santa hats, and I can’t help but feel like Dad is here—for just a second. A gentle reminder that joy can be found in even the smallest places.
I don’t have any hot chocolate made and waiting, but chocolate milk is an easy substitute. Thanks to the fact that Owen is an overgrown child with his eating habits, there’s nevera shortage of chocolate syrup in the house. So I whip some up real quick, then snag a candy cane off the counter where Evelyn left them.
I don’t miss the way Evelyn stares after me, open-mouthed, as I head toward Olivia’s car. It takes a heap of effort to remind her that hospitality isn’t the same as cheer, and both Olivia and her son need a reminder that it all turned out okay.
I didn’t get that reassurance.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Olivia replies, taking both cups from me with a bright smile on her face. “Jack, look what Mr. Wheeler brought you!”
My heart clenches.
Mr. Wheeler.
That’s my dad, not me. And he should be here, ready to welcome a new season with enough gusto to convince kids he’s Santa even in regular clothes.
