Page 52 of Kit
He opened the front door and a cold wind rushed straight in and all over the big rooms of the downstairs area. Without his parka, hat or scarf, he ran outside.
I got up, making sure the fire was secure, and the fire screen closed, threw down the tongs and ran after him.
What was he thinking? He couldn’t go home. He hadn’t even picked up the keys to his car.
I ran onto the porch. The lights twinkled all up and down the block making pretty reflections on the street and in the fresh snow. Flakes fell, filling the air, but not enough to impair my vision. I scanned the yard.
Kit had run out in his stocking feet and a thin pullover sweater. He was now crouched down by the snowman rocking himself and chanting, “Oh my god.”
Snow crunched as I ran up to him.
“Kit! Kit!” The wind blew my voice until I barely heard myself.
He turned. The Christmas lights allowed me to see tear tracks on his cheeks.
I dropped to my knees, the snow immediately soaking through my pants. I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder. He jerked back and scrambled away a couple feet, his hair blowing into his face.
“I don’t deserve you, Parker. You’re so perfect. But I almost burned down your house.”
“You didn’t?—”
“You deserve someone better.” He let out a pitiful moan, nearly matching the loneliness of the wind.
“What?” I reeled. We’d just had a discussion earlier about trust. About how good we were together.
He sniffed hard. “You told me not to touch the fire. And I did. And now your rug and—and?—”
“Kit.”
He hid behind his bent arms.
“Baby boy. You didn’t burn the rug.”
“I did! I saw it all blackened.”
“Sweetheart, that’s the hearth rug. It’s fireproof. It just needs a wash now, that’s all.”
He lifted his head until I could see just the glint of his eyes behind his dark hair. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. But what I’m worried about is—did you hurt yourself?”
He hunched down, ignoring the question. “How? How can you not want me to leave now? I wrecked everything!”
“You didn’t wreck anything. I assure you.” I held out my hand to him.
“I did!”
“If you’ll just take my hand, we’ll go in and I’ll show you. No harm was done. Logs roll out of fireplaces, baby. It can happen to anyone. It’s happened to me.”
“You told me not to touch it.” His voice sounded like it was being squeezed.
“I did. That’s true. But that doesn’t mean you should leave. I would be devastated if you left me, baby boy. Please don’t leave.”
He grunted. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I am very conscious of what I’m saying. I would be the saddest Santa Daddy ever if you left, Kit. Don’t you know that?”
He slowly shook his head, eyes closed.
