Erin brushed Parker’s hair back and looked him in the eyes. “Did someone say that they wouldn’t be your friend if you liked pink?”
He shook his head.
“Then don’t worry about it.” She pulled him into a hug. “Besides, if someone doesn’t want to be your friend because you like a certain color, you might want to reconsider wanting to be their friend.”
“Okay,” Parker said, as he struggled to get free of her embrace. She let him go to the front yard, and herejoined his sister, who had just finished filling more water balloons.
The concept of choosing friends wisely was a little over Parker’s head, especially when most kids only cared about things like your favorite colors or whether you liked monster trucks, but she wanted to ingrain certain truths in his mind from a young age.
Who you made friends with was important. You wanted friends you could count on, friends who wouldn’t leave when things got hard. Friends who didn’t return ten years later and rip open old wounds.
Erin watched Samantha and Parker chase each other for another moment before picking up the paintbrush and working on the bench again. She fell into a comfortable rhythm as she dipped the brush into the paint and ran its bristles across the rough wood of the swing. It was peaceful, and she lost herself in the task until a deep groan came from the front yard.
Erin’s eyes darted to the clearing. There, Logan stood frozen in the crosshairs of Parker and Samantha’s water balloon fight. Even from her spot on the porch, she could see the water dripping down the side of his face. Logan’s stiff posture was a clear indication that he wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d been hit. As much as she didn’t want to talk to him, she couldn’t leave him there either.
Erin sighed as she set the brush down once more and walked down the stairs to where he stood, both kids watching her closely as she approached. Whenshe stopped in front of them, she could see their eyes were wide. The beginning of tears formed in Parker’s as he said, “It was an accident, Mama.”
She smiled down at him, hoping to reassure him that she wasn’t mad. “I know, baby. You wouldn’t hit someone who wasn’t playing on purpose.” Relief replaced the look of fear in her young son’s eyes.
When she was satisfied that Parker was okay, she looked up at Logan—literally. At six foot four, he was a foot taller than her, and now, standing next to him for the first time in a decade, memories flooded her of how she used to tease him for being such a giant.
Water dripped from his face, down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. She was so used to their younger days when his wardrobe consisted of jeans and t-shirts, that it was startling to see him standing in front of her in a button-down and slacks. Not that this was a bad look. Logan looked handsome, even with the wet spot that continued to spread across the top of his shirt. Not that she cared whether or not he looked attractive.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Logan wiped water from his eyes and dried his hands on the bottom of his shirt. “It’s just a little water.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention when I left the guesthouse. I walked right into it.”
Erin looked down at Parker. “I know it was anaccident, but I think we still owe Mr. West an apology. What do you think?”
“Yes, Mama.” He shuffled closer to Logan and looked up. “I’m sorry, Mr. West, for hitting you with the water balloon. I promise to be more careful.”
“Okay.”
That was it? Parker had just asked for forgiveness and even added the part about being more careful without being prompted, and Logan had said, “Okay?”
Good grief. Logan had a rocky childhood and didn’t have kids of his own, but surely, he was able to give Parker a little more than that. Erin lifted her brows and nodded in an exaggerated motion, pressing Logan to keep going, hoping that he would play along.
“I’m not mad.” Logan scratched the back of his neck. “And I’m glad you’ll be more careful.”
Erin tensed at the clipped words, but thankfully her son was satisfied. Parker smiled and said, “I promise.”
Erin’s shoulders sagged in relief when Parker started to walk away, but then he stopped and faced Logan again. “Do you like pink?”
Logan’s brows furrowed. “I ... ”
Erin held her breath. She never expected Parker to follow up on her little white lie, yet here he was asking this complete stranger if he liked pink.
Serves me right for making things up.
Logan looked at Erin once more for guidance. She gave him a barely perceptible nod.
He shrugged. “Sure, I like pink.”
Parker didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Would you sit on a pink bench?”
