He lets out a heavy breath. “I was supposed to pick Oliver and Maverick up from school today and take them back to the house for a while, but I’ve been on and off the phone with insurance stuff for hours.”
I cringe because that sounds awful.
“Is there any way you could pick up the boys and entertain them at the house until Abby comes to pick Maverick up later?”
My ears perk up at the mention of her name. I know I need to stay away from her, but it doesn’t mean I can stop the reaction I get when her name is brought up in conversation.
I must be quiet for too long because he adds, “Or… you could come handle this insurance stuff, and I can get the boys.”
“No,” I say as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to sift through the sands of insurance bullshit. I would probably end up accidentally switching our business insurance to boat insurance or something.
He laughs because he knows me. “You really are getting the better end of this deal. You’ll fit in with them. You’re practically a kid yourself.”
“Hey,” I snap, even though there’s no bite to it.
“Abby just texted me back and said she’s fine with all of this. She’ll be by to get Maverick in a few hours when she gets off her shift.”
Abby in her scrubs…
Focus.
I glance at the clock. “I should probably go, so I can get to the school in time.”
“Right… right,” Kane says. “And… Wyatt?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Anytime, brother.”
“Hats?” I ask. Both boys nod, pointing to their beanie-covered heads. “Check,” I say, tugging my own hat down a little more. “Coats?” I ask, pointing to my own coat.
Maverick locks eyes with a smiling Oliver. “Check,” Maverick says, catching on. Oliver didn’t have to say anything for me to know he’s on the same page, too.
“Gloves?” I hold my glove-clad hands out in front of me, wiggling all ten fingers for emphasis.
They mimic the motion, Maverick shouting, “Check.” Barely contained excitement rolls off them.
“Then… I think we’re ready for the most epic snowball fight of all time,” I say, holding the back door open for them.
They run into the yard side by side. There isn’t a ton of snow, but with what we got yesterday, there’s enough for a decent snowball fight.
As soon as I get the door closed, something cold smacks against the back of my head. Seconds later, another snowballsplats against the side of the house, only a foot away from my head.
“Who said it was gang-up-on-Wyatt time?” I ask, spinning around to face them.
They both point at each other, then start laughing. Now, I’m laughing. I slowly make my way down the steps and into the yard while they’re distracted.
I use the snow I gathered from the rail to make a snowball behind my back. Maverick’s eyes widen when I move my hands in front of my body.
“Run,” he says, grabbing Oliver’s coat above his shoulder.
Oliver’s head snaps toward me, eyes popping wide. They take off at a dead sprint for the small alcove of trees on the far corner of the yard.
I lob the snowball so it flies over their heads and lands on the ground just past their feet. Shrieks and laughter come from their direction as they duck behind a tree.
