Page 66 of From the Start
I squeeze his shoulder. “I don’t mind taking care of you.”
The driver’s door opens and Kai positions himself behind the wheel. “Who’s hungry?”
“I’m starved,” Dad grumbles. “Someone keeps hiding the Fruit Loops on me.”
Those bleeping Fruit Loops are going to be the death of me.
Kai chuckles. “It’s a good thing we’re on our way to lunch, then.”
The drive to the boardwalk where theSalty Sirenis located isn’t long. Usually, we’d walk but it’s a bit far to push Dad. We park and I jump out to get Dad’s wheelchair but Kai beats me there.
“Let me do this for you.”
“You’re always doing things for me.” How long will it be before he’s tired of how much extra work it is to be with me?
“I enjoy doing things for you. And for your dad.”
“But…”
He kisses me before I can finish my sentence. “Stop,” he whispers against my mouth. “Stop worrying about everything. I’m here. I’ve got this.”
He whips out the wheelchair and leaves me standing behind his SUV with my jaw hanging open. Does Kai – the man-child who’s a goofy jokester – have this? Did he grow up and I missed it?
“Are you coming?” Dad asks. “I’m starving.”
I slam the back door closed and hurry to follow them.
“Do you prefer bacon on your burger?” Kai asks Dad.
“Ain’t a burger without bacon and cheese.”
“What about fries? Are you a ketchup or mayonnaise with your fries person?”
“Son.” Dad shakes his head. “No good man has mayonnaise with their fries. Mayonnaise is for sissies.”
Kai glances behind at me and flexes his bicep. “I guess I’m eating my fries with ketchup today.”
“Goofball.”
“Your goofball.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t try your luck, Goofy.”
“Goofy’s awesome. I’d be dashing in a fedora, don’t you think?”
I’m afraid Kai would be dashing wearing a neon pink cropped sweatshirt and oversized sweatpants or nothing at all. Based on those muscles he was displaying earlier when he carried Dad, nothing at all has my preference.
“You gonna open the door or stare at your boyfriend with googly eyes all day?” Dad asks.
“I wasn’t…” I trail off – I should know better than to argue with Dad – and hurry to open the door.
TheSalty Sirenis packed when we enter. I glance around but the only available tables are booths. Dad can’t sit in a booth. Damn.
“We can go somewhere else,” I suggest but I’m speaking to air.
Kai has already wheeled Dad to a table occupied by two people. “I’m sorry. Do you mind moving to the booth over there?” He points to the free booth. “We need a freestanding table for the wheelchair.”
“But we already have our food,” the woman complains.
