“You’re sure?” Miles asks. “Because if you’re not—”
“I’m fine with it,” I say solidly.
“Okay, cool,” Miles says. “Looks like we just need flour, but if you want something else to eat, then pick that up too.”
“He’s going to have pizza like us,” Noah says, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door but he isn’t strong enough to move me.
“JJ doesn’t like pizza,” Miles explains.
“What?” Noah screeches. “Are you an alien?”
“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “You ready to go?”
“Yep!”
“He’ll have to grab a coat on the way out, but the door is unlocked,” Audrey explains.
I kiss Miles on the cheek, which leaves him perplexed but satisfied. Noah hugs his mom, and then we’re out the door. It takes him two seconds to run into the apartment and get his coat. I wait in the doorway, feeling strange about going in when no one is there and I don’t know her like that. From the doorway, I see the layout is similar to Miles’, but it looks backwards. Audrey’s kitchen is at the front of the house, while Miles’ is at the back. Odd, but not unheard of.
“I’m ready, JJ!”
“Okay, bud. Let’s get going.” I close the apartment door, and we head outside.
I help him into my truck, because it’s big, and he struggles to step up. He gets into the back and buckles up, then I get into the front.
“This is a big truck,” he says. “I’ve never been in one before.”
“Well, it’s small compared to the fire trucks.”
He laughs. “Everything is small compared to those!”
“That is very true.” I back up and head down the road to the nearest store.
I’ve never, not a single time in my life, ever gone anywhere with a kid before. Not alone. Not with anyone else. I don’t have kids. I don’t have friends who have kids. My brothers don’t have kids. The most interaction I’ve had with them is when we go to school to talk to them or when I’m saving them.
But I try not to think about that while I’m with Noah because I don’t need to let my stressful job bleed into every part of my life outside of work. He’s a good kid. Well-behaved. His mother andMiles wouldn’t have let him come with me if they thought he’d misbehave or something would happen.
“Should I hold your hand?” I ask when we get out of the car. The parking lot is spacious and there are cars everywhere.
“No, I’m good,” he says.
“Okay, but stay close.”
“I will.”
We get into the store without issue.
“Do we need a cart?” he asks.
“Do you wanna push it?”
“Heck yeah!”
“Then sure.”
He grabs a cart and the automatic doors to the grocery store open to let us through. The scent of flowers hit my nose, and I spot them from the corner of my eye.
“Hey, let’s stop over here first.”
