He was enough.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, ruffling his hair as Mom came around the corner of the Mazda, holding a promising box in her hands. It was one of the cardboard ones she’d bought in bulk years ago that came out when she baked something and was planning to gift it to someone—so this box wasn’t for me or Dad, but there wasalwaysextra. The scent of baked goods wafting fromit made my mouth water and my stomach remind me that finishing Benji’s cereal and orange juice before dropping him off at school wasn’t exactly the breakfast of champions. “Behaving yourself?”
“I got a sticker!” Benji enthused, holding the collar of his little plaid shirt out for inspection. On it was a little round sticker with a cartoon lion and the wordsyou should be proudwritten around it in glittery letters.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, setting down my wrench to pick him up and set him on my hip. He was getting heavy, but I’d be giving piggybacks for a few years yet. One advantage of being tall enough to scrape some doorways—I’d always be able to lift Benji, if he wanted me to.
A flush of heat rose to my ears again as I thought about picking people up. Felix had told me in the shower that it wasreallyhot that I could do it, so I’d done it again while he got his hand around both of us. We’d gone slower the second time, moving together in a lot less of a hurry, kissing and kissing and kissing and only parting to breathe.
I couldnotbe thinking about that with Benji in my arms and both of my parents looking at me. I shoved the thought aside, banishing the remembered feel of Felix’s skin under my hands, or how blue his eyes had been in the cool light of the bathroom.
“What’d you do for that?” I asked after a distracted beat, turning my attention to Benji’s adorable little beaming face.
“Read a whole book by myself,” Benji said. “If we read one every week this month, we get a prize.”
I broke into a smile as wide as the one he was giving me. The Benji of a few months ago hadnotbeen getting stickers in school—he hadn’t beengoingto school, most days. Most days, I’d sat on the floor beside his bed, either reading quietly to him while he curled up under the covers, or sitting in silence. So he knew I was there.
He was… healing, I guessed. Moving on.
I swallowed past a lump in my throat.
“If you get a prize, we’re going for ice cream,” I promised. Honestly, I was a little excited about the seasonal reopening of the ice cream parlor that’d moved into town in my absence. Everyone said it was amazing, like nothing they’d ever had before. I hadn’t had the chance to go before they closed for the winter, but apparently the big reveal of the new menu on opening night was an event not to be missed.
I’d thought about taking Benji to it, but I got the impression—based on opening night not starting until 8pm on a Friday—that it was more of an adult event. So we’d just have to wait.
Benji laughed, resting his head against my chest. “I’m gonna,” he said, with determination most adults would have been proud of.
I believed him. He was a good kid, and hecoulddo anything he set his mind to. Even with all the crap he’d been through. He really should have been proud. Maybe he’d let me frame the sticker for him, if I could rescue it before the shirt went to the laundry.
I hugged him closer and turned to Mom. “Who did what to earnthat?” I asked, nodding to the box.
Mom’s eyes sparkled as she smiled, lifting the lid on the box to reveal two of her famous miniature key lime pies, finished witha zigzag of white chocolate over the tops. She only brokethisrecipe out for really special occasions.
“These are for you.”
My attention snapped from the perfect little pies to her face. What?
My confusion must’ve shown on my face, because Mom laughed, dropping the lid back in place. “I thought you deserved something nice. I thought maybe you’d want to take these for a walk. Perhaps in the direction of the dance studio?”
Benji wriggled to get down. There was no ballet class for him today, and distantly I was aware of Dad offering to show him something cool as he ran off, abandoning me without hesitation.
I was too busy processing what Mom was saying to really register that.
“I… I don’t…”
Mom scoffed, thrusting the box of pastries toward me. “Cooper Richards, I did not spend all morning baking these for you to pretend youdon’twant to head down there.”
I took the box automatically, holding it protectively against my chest.
I was covered in motor oil and I’d spent a lot of time sweating under cars today. Would Felix evenwantto see me?
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” I said, looking around the shop.
“All the more reason to take a break, so you can come back to it refreshed and more efficient.” She shooed me towards the door she’d come in through. “Go. Bring coffee. Enjoy yourself. It’s good for you.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Mom interrupted. “Unless you can tell me honestly you don’t want to see a certain someone? After spending so long with him last night and coming home whistling?”
