“Your nephew is great with kids,” Angie tells me.
Make that a double shot. Rhett, who spends an inordinate amount time when he’s at home thrusting his pelvis, dabbing, or grabbing his crotch, can’t be good with young kids.
Taylor beams. “He's got a gift.”
“Nice work,” I tell the teenager, noticing color creeping into his cheeks. These two women have the damn kid blushing.
“Bruh,” he answers. That’s all I get.
“Bruuuhhh,” the boy on top of him yells, sitting up to ride Rhett like a bronco.
“Come on, Griffin, fun time's over. Maybe we'll see Rhett next Saturday?”
“Will I see you next Saturday?” Griffin asks Rhett, bending down to peer into his eyes.
“Yeah, I'll be here,” my nephew grumbles. He doesn't sound happy about it, but I think he is.
“Yay!” the boy shouts and pats Rhett enthusiastically on the head.
“Thank you again,” Angie tells Taylor. “It's our favorite time of the week.”
“Mine too,” Taylor assures her.
After the woman and her kid head toward the library’s checkout counter with a giant pile of books, Rhett pushes to standing and resumes his expression of abject boredom.
“Can we go?” he mutters. “I'm so done with this.”
I'm about to lay into him for being rude, but Taylor pulls him in for a tight hug. “You were awesome today. Thank you for your help.”
“You're welcome,” he says when she steps back. His cheeks are flaming at this point. “Thanks for not telling anybody how you got that shiner.”
It’s obvious Taylor has applied makeup around her eye, more than I’ve seen her wear to this point. She’s mostly concealed the bruising, although the spot where the book made impact is stillpink and now scabbed over. I wonder if she’s going to put on makeup for Bryan Connor. I shouldn’t care, but I like her better without it. Not that she cares about my opinion.
“It was an accident,” she reminds Rhett. “You’ve more than made up for it, although I’ll gladly take your help next Saturday.”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I guess I can do it again.”
He sounds about as enthusiastic as he does when I ask him to take out the trash, but at least he doesn’t call her bruh.
“Were you on another run?” she asks as she eyes me up and down. Her gaze is decidedly less rapt than when she was looking at the baby.
“I skated with your brother’s team.”
Rhett slaps a palm against his forehead. “Duuude.” There's a lot of judgment in that one syllable.
“Don’t dude me yet. Coach Toby and I arranged for a few of the varsity players to come back this afternoon so he can see you on the ice.” Yeah, I had nothing to do with it, but I still want my due with the kid. “You’re going early so you can run some drills.”
“My brother loves drills,” Taylor says with a laugh. She glances over her shoulder at the middle-aged man waving to her from the back of the library. “My boss needs me.” She rolls her eyes. “Again.”
I want to say more. To thank her for making Rhett feel like he’s good at something besides hockey. As far as I can tell, the kid hasn’t had enough of that in his life. I know what it’s like to feel as though your identity is wrapped up in only one thing.
He grabs the sweatshirt I made him wear from a nearby chair but doesn’t put it on, even though the temperature outside is still hovering near freezing. I say nothing because…I have battles to pick, and this isn’t one.
“I’m parked around the corner,” I tell him as we walk down the front stairs.
“How was the donut?” His tone clearly communicates he’s hoping I choked on it.
“Gave me a stomach ache, but I’m willing to try something else if you’re hungry.”