Page 75 of Boomer
Boomer nodded, slow and steady. “I promise.”
The boy searched his face, and then, finally, smiled. The first one Boomer had seen since he stepped onto that porch.
“I want to hear about explosions,” Ansel said, voice tentative. “Will you come back?”
Boomer grinned, the kind that cracked wide without armor. “Explosions? That’s my very favorite topic. You can bet your…ah…butt, I’ll be back.”
Ansel nodded solemnly, like a promise had just been made and sealed, and then pulled a soft piece of stone from the box along with a fine-toothed tool. Within seconds, he was lost in the motion, fingers working with the quiet joy of someone returning home.
Boomer left him there, a boy in his world, and went to the kitchen.
Gretchen and Alaric were drying dishes, elegant, quiet choreography between two people who had learned how not to clash. They both looked up when he entered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman,” he said, his voice even. “I’ve just seen what your grandson is capable of. Let him enter the contest. What does it hurt?”
Gretchen set down a wine glass and turned slowly. “It’s nonsense,” she said curtly. “A waste of time that could be spent on more important studies.”
Boomer stepped closer, not aggressively, just with purpose. His accent thickened, words heavier now, soaked in something he couldn’t quite smooth out. “You’re dead wrong,” he said, quiet but firm. “It’s who he is. More than that…” His voicecrackedjust a little.“…it’s what he needs. To feed his soul. To…assuage his grief.”
Gretchen’s mouth opened, but Boomer lifted his hand, not forceful. Just…steady. “I know I just met you. Just met him. But Iknowwhat that grief feels like. I know how it eats you up from the inside and makes the world go small, and I know what it’s like when people try to shove your pain into the wrong shape just to make themselves comfortable.” His tone softened. “I think…you know that grief, too.” He let the silence stretch, then said gently, “Don’t punish him for how you feel about your son. Don’t let that loss erase what Ansel still has. What heis.He’s not trying to rebel. He’s trying tobreathe.”
Gretchen’s eyes snapped. Her chin lifted in reflex. But Alaric placed a hand on her arm, grounding. “He’s just being honest again, sweetheart. Let him have this. He’s a straight-A student. Smart as a whip. He needs this.”
She looked between them, jaw tight. Her eyes shone, but she didn’t blink. She closed them instead, the weight of it all pressing hard. After a long breath, she exhaled. “All right,” she said. “But if it interferes, he’s done.”
Boomer nodded, chest thick, something deep and low burning behind his ribs. “Thank you.”
Taylor stepped into the kitchen just as Boomer’s voice dropped into something raw and intimate. She froze in the doorway, unseen.
She’d only meant to use the restroom. Splash cold water on her face. Maybe gather herself before she came apart at the seams. Boomer with Ansel, his quiet, beautiful interaction with her nephew was still echoing in her, then the double whammy at the table with his compliment to her mama, and the way he handled talking about her…Gott, if that wasn’t enough, now this.
She stood there losing her damn mind, her heart, and anything else Carter Finley wanted to take. This man…going tobat for her nephew wasn’t what was killing her softly, seducing her into goo. It was thesoundof his voice, and the pain in it.
That low, gorgeous Southern drawl laced with unspoken grief. The kind of grief that had shape and color and silence all its own. He waspleading, not with them, with the world, to give a little boy space to express his grief, and to heal in his own way.
All she could think wasGott,she wanted to take that loss and hold it for him, cup it in her hands so he could finally let it go.
She was a fucking hot, aching mess of daughter, aunt, and woman, exquisite, adult woman who wanted this man beneath her hands, under her mouth, inside her, immediately.
Her voice came out a whisper. “We have to go…now.” She hadn’t meant it to sound like that, like breath caught mid-kiss. But it did.
Boomer turned, and when their eyes met, the room blurred.
For one electric, suspended second, something ancient and unfinished in her reached out and locked onto something deep and elemental in him.
A connection that was like a detonating explosive mix of need, surrender, recognition, and understanding. A kind of closeness, a kind of harmony she’d never felt with anyone else. Not even Bash, who had known her body but never understood her spirit. Not even Emil, who she’d tried so hard to save.
This wasdifferent.
The effect was staggering.
Boomer drew a ragged breath, his gaze dropping to her mouth, and his voice,Gott, his voice came rough and quiet. “Yeah. Go…now.” He turned to her parents, and the looks on their faces would almost be comical if this wasn’t so charged. “Thank you for your hospitality. Maybe there will be a time when I can cook for you.”
He stepped toward her, and when his hand came to rest on her shoulder, it wasn’t possessive. It was directive, urgent, full ofheat and restraint. He nudged, guiding her like she was part of his team, part of his breath, part ofhim.
“Meet me outside,” he murmured. “I need to say goodbye to the kid.”
She didn’t move at first. Couldn’t.
