I took a deep breath and shook him off again.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though,” I told him.
“Okay, then hang on a sec,” Chase said and raced to the desk and chair in the loft. He picked up a chair and brought it over. I felt useless that I couldn’t even get a fucking game out of the closet. He lined the chair up and put a foot on the seat. “Can you hold the chair for me? My socks might slip, and I could fall.” I glanced down at his pale blue socks with dogs wearing sunglasses. “Then it’ll wreck the night because I might crack my skull and bleed all over the floor. Then Mom will be mad. Then I’ll miss dinner—”
I stepped behind the chair and held it in place. I reached out and put my hand close to his forearm while he climbed onto the chair, just in case. He pulled the tin of dominoes off the shelf and handed it to me. I quickly set them on the floor and then held the back of the chair again while he climbed down. Just as he finished putting the chair back, we heard the door from the garage open.
“Hey, perfect timing. I’m so hungry,” Chase said as we headed downstairs. “I really don’t mind sitting at the table, by the way,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. The couch would be nice, but the cushions would muffle my farts. The farts are almost in stereo on the wooden chairs. Mom gets mad.” Chase shrugged.
Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, Chase took off running toward the kitchen and then slid on the wood floor, stopping right behind Charles.
“Chasion! What have I told you about sliding on your socks on the hardwood floor?”
Kristin walked over to him and wrapped her arm over his shoulder and across his chest. She pulled his back against her and lowered her head to kiss the top of his. Seeing her affectionately hug him made my stomach drop, and I quickly averted my eyes to focus on the pizza boxes and bags of breadsticks.
“Not to,” Chase replied.
Kristin playfully hit his butt, and Chase scurried to the table to grab his plate. He slid to a stop behind his chair.
“Yet you continue to do it.” Kristin sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Chase, what did your mother say?” Charles asked.
“I can’t help it. My feet are happy and sometimes out of control.” Chase shrugged.
“Is that what happened with karate? Your feet were just out of control?” Hollis teased.
“Karate cramped my style. My feet needed freedom. Karate restricted me too much.”
“We should buy him the socks with the gripper pads, honey,” Charles suggested as he pulled Chase against him and patted his chest. Charles held Chase still for a few moments.
“Nooo, Dad. You can’t contain the rhythm of my feet.”
“If you fall and hit your head, then you could get hurt.” Charles patted Chase’s chest again. “Then we’d be upset.”
I couldn’t help but stare. Again. I was witnessing how Hollis’ family was. They were kind and caring. Even when reprimanding, they were still loving. Watching Charles show affection toward Chase made my eyes tear up. A lump formed in my throat, and I quickly tried to swallow it back when I saw Hollis was watching me. He stepped closer and spoke quietly so only I could hear.
“You okay?” he asked.
At least I thought it was so only I could hear.
“No, he’s not,” Chase blurted out and pointed to me. “He made an ouch face when he raised his arms to try to get the dominoes.”
I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth to reassure everyone that I was okay. Everyone was looking at me, and I could feel the heat rise from my neck. Charles and Kristin started to walk over to me, but Hollis was right there. He put his hand on my back, and I closed my eyes for slightly longer than a normal blink. His hand felt good. Strong. Safe.
“What’s wrong, Patrick? Why didn’t you holler for me to come reach the game? I could have done it,” Hollis said.
“I didn’t let the guy suffer. I got a chair and got the game down.”
“Where do you hurt?” Hollis asked.
“Patrick, sweetie, was it your stomach?” Kristin asked.
“It felt more like my ribs. My right side.”
