Max stirs, his little face scrunching up before his eyes flutter open.
"Mama," he says, reaching up to be lifted.
I scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Good morning, sweetheart. How's your tooth feeling?"
He points to his jaw and frowns. "Owie."
"I know, baby. We'll get something to make it better soon." Another promise I'm not sure how to keep.
I change his diaper and help him into clean clothes—a dinosaur t-shirt and tiny jeans that are getting too short for him. We need to be quiet; it's barely 6:30 AM, and I don't want to wake Dean. Not after imposing on him so completely yesterday.
But when we tiptoe downstairs, I'm surprised to find the living room empty. The blankets on the couch are neatly folded, and the smell of coffee fills the air. Dean is in the kitchen, already dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. He's scrambling eggs at the stove, his back to us.
"Good morning," I whisper.
He turns, spatula in hand.
"Morning," he replies, then looks at Max in my arms. "Hey, buddy. Sleep okay?"
Max, suddenly shy, presses his face against my shoulder.
"Sorry," I say. "He's always quiet in the mornings."
Dean nods, turning back to the eggs. "Made coffee. And breakfast, if you're hungry."
"You didn't have to do that."
He shrugs. "Gotta eat anyway."
I set Max down on a kitchen chair, boosting him up with the same cushion we used last night. "Thank you. It smells good."
"Just eggs and toast. Nothing fancy."
But it is fancy to us. Hot breakfast we didn't have to scrounge for or stretch to make last. The simple luxury of it brings a lump to my throat.
"Do you have any children's pain reliever?" I ask, watching Max rub at his jaw. "He's been having tooth pain."
Dean's brow furrows. "Don't think so. What's wrong with his tooth?"
"I'm not sure. It's been bothering him for almost two weeks. I think it might be an infection, but..." I trail off, not wanting to get into the financial details.
"He needs to see a dentist," Dean says, stating the obvious.
"I know." My voice comes out sharper than intended. "I just… I haven't been able to afford it."
"Sorry. Didn't mean it like that." He sets a plate in front of Max, the eggs cut into small pieces. "There's a drugstore a few blocks away. I can get something for the pain after breakfast."
"I have some money," I say quickly. "For medicine. You don't need to—"
"I want to." His voice is firm but not unkind. "And I know a dentist in town. Good guy. Owes the club a favor."
I should be relieved. Instead, I feel a fresh wave of shame. Not only have I failed to provide basic necessities for my son, but now I'm accepting charity from a man who didn't even know he had a child until yesterday.
"I can pay you back," I say, knowing it's an empty promise. "Once I find work."
Dean shakes his head. "I’ve told you. He's my kid too, Sidney. That means I help with expenses."
I open my mouth to argue but stop myself. He's right. And Max needs a dentist.
