Page 131 of Your Last First Kiss
“You’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
He chuckles, then has a coughing fit when he tries to stifle it. I hurry to him and usher him out the door before he wakes up Mari.
“Waaaaa,” Mari cries, right on cue.
I’m halfway up the stairs when Landon walks out holding her. When I get to the top, he hands her to me.
“I agree with Miller, Mom. You deserve to be happy, and Dillon makes us all happy.”
The little spy has always seen and heard too much.
I kiss him on the cheek. “I know, buddy. I’ve got some stuff to work out. You all have just been my only priority for so long.”
He shrugs. “Dillon says it’s okay to take care of your needs sometimes. Self-care, I think he called it. Maybe you should be your priority too.”
My smart little boy.
It isn’t until he’s back in his room and I’m rocking Mari that I latch on to what he said. What the heck were they talking about that Dillon had to give him permission to take care of himself?
There’s so much more to Dillon Henry than I could have imagined. And maybe Miller and Landon are right. I’m miserable. Dillon’s miserable. We’re all walking on eggshells around here. Dillon might be the key to happiness for all of us.
I vow to find out. Tomorrow, I’m making some changes.
CHAPTER40
DILLON
We walk into the garage of the TAC. I’ve moved all the vehicles outside, and only the vandalized one remains. But that’s just the backdrop. The real reason we’re here, I hung from the ceiling before storming over to Penny’s house.
“I don’t know how to fix that,” Kai says with his chin held high, but there’s a slight tremor to his words.
I’m not looking to scare the piss out of the kid, but he needs to understand the damage he’s done—not just to the SUV but to his family too.
I walk past him, close enough that he steps back, and head to the utility cart against the back wall. I pull out a pair of boxing gloves and toss them at his feet. Then I grab the wraps and cross back to him.
For the first time in weeks, Kai’s mask falls. “I don’t know how to box, and you outweigh me by like a hundred pounds.”
Damn him. Forty pounds, maybe fifty, but not a hundred. I roll my eyes in a way that would make any teenager proud.
“You’re not boxing with me. Hold out your hand.”
His eyes widen when I grab his arm and begin to wrap his wrist and knuckles. When one is finished, I move on to the next one, then step back and point at the gloves.
“Put them on,” I demand.
I stand guard with my arms crossed over my chest and a neutral expression on my face as he fumbles his way into the gloves. When he has them on as best he can, I tap the bottoms with a rough thump to make sure they’re all the way on, then I wrap the Velcro tightly around his wrist.
He’s silent when I do the other one.
“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I went too far.” He says the words, but I don’t believe he feels them. Yet. He will by the time we’re done though.
I don’t reply. I simply move to stand behind the bag. There are no weights to hold it steady, so I stand behind it and hang onto the sides, anchoring it for him. And hopefully, give him a way to reach for the kid I know him to be.
“Hit it.”
Kai doesn’t move.
“Hit this bag, Kai.”
