Page 18 of Engaging his Enemy
Piggy approached Moto, dropping the ball at his feet, and Moto threw it. “My parents had just died. Your grandparents.” They would never meet his son, and he ached for the relationship that never would be. “Your mom and I had a fight, an argument. I was upset. All I wanted to do was leave.”
The dog returned, and he patted its curly black fur before tossing the ball again. “I was angry with everyone. Ben, your mother, myself most of all. I’d planned on joining the Navy after graduation, and it was easy to move up my plan a few months. Get my GED and disappear, rather than deal with the flaming shit my life became after they died.”
“You said you loved her. That’s not flaming shit.”
“It is when you think she loves someone else.”
Wyatt crossed to the bench, and for a moment Moto thought he might sit down. “Uncle Ben.”
Moto nodded.
The boy looked at the bench, and Moto scooted over. Still the boy stood. “It wasn’t like that between them.”
“No?”
“No. They’re just friends. He takes me to baseball games. Brings me to bring your kid to work day.”
It was all Moto could do to nod, jealousy ripping through him. What he wouldn’t do to have been the one to be there for his son, to toss him the ball, to teach him things a father teaches his boy. But for the first time, he felt the slightest twinge of gratitude that it had been Ben who was here with Wyatt. Ben who had loved him as his own.
Better Ben than someone else.
“What about your mom?” he croaked, his voice betraying his emotions. “Was she seeing anyone while you were growing up?” He knew he sounded like a desperate lover, but he truly wanted to know if there’d been others in the role of father over the years. Who had been here for Wyatt when he himself had not?
Wyatt looked uncomfortable. “She goes on dates.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “From an app.”
“A dating app?”
The dog lay down in the grass, clearly tired out and panting. “Uh-huh.”
“Anybody you liked?”
He shrugged. “I never met any of them.” He sat down on the bench beside him.
Moto felt like he had a butterfly perched on his finger, ready to fly away. He played it as casually as he could, not looking directly at the boy. “So nothing serious.”
“No. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Were you ever?”
“No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Not really. I go out sometimes.”
“Then why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
Moto shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t go out with any of them for too long.”
