Page 41 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
Funnily enough, by the time we arrived at my place, I was stifling yawn after yawn. I usually only went to bed somewhere around one to three in the morning, depending on how locked into my work I was, but tonight? All the cold air, laughter, and sweet treats had given me such a warm, fuzzy feeling that I was ready to roll into bed. That was a rarity.
“Here we are,” I said as we approached my townhouse. It was fairly small, and right at the limit of my budget, even with financial help from the charities available to us. Honestly, I didn’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have state insurance, SNAP, and all the lovely people in our city who pitched in to make sure sick kids didn’t have to go without. I was incredibly lucky I didn’t live in a state where medical debt counted against you, otherwise I’d have to add the fear of being homeless to my list of worries.
“Hey, Maxi-Bear,” I cooed, reaching into the back and gently shaking Max’s leg. It was a light touch through his fleece-lined jeans, but I swore I felt a bit more solid muscle instead of bone. The doctor had affirmed that he’d put on weight, but I loved feeling physical proof of it. “We’re home.”
“Wha?” he murmured, his small voice turning into quite the drawl. “Hmm?”
“We’re home, buddy. Do you need help getting out, or do you want me to get your wheelchair while you unbuckle yourself?”
“I got it,” he said, blinking a few times and smacking his lips. “Is… Wait, where… Where…?”
Oh, my poor baby. It wasn’t entirely unusual for him to have a hard time waking up, but it had been happening a lot less lately.
“We’re home, buddy,” I repeated.
“We gotta say goodbye,” Addy said through a yawn. “Friends say goodbye.”
Jeez, these kids had me by the heartstrings. “I couldn’t agree more. Friends always say goodbye.”
“You’re my friends!” Max blurted, jerking his head up and blinking several more times. “Friends.”
“There you go, my guy,” I said, patting his leg. “Why don’t you wake up just a little more while I go get your chair?”
“Okay. Can I… um… can I get the backpack?”
“The backpack?” I frowned as I unbuckled and stepped out of the van. “Why do you need that?”
“Stuff’s in there.”
That was good enough of an explanation, I supposed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll grab that for you lickety-split.”
“I’ll help you with the chair,” Remy said.
I didn’t really need his aid; it was an easily foldable chair, and he had quite a bit of room in his large “mommy mobile”—he’d called it that—but I didn’t turn it down. I was reticent to end the night. If Max wasn’t so exhausted, I would have fought my own sleepiness to keep going. I knew better than to push things, though, especially when it came to Max’s health. Besides, I didn’t want to burn out my new friendship by becoming too invested too fast. I’d made that mistake in the past.
Remy popped the trunk and took out the chair, unfolding it once it was on the ground. I was a little impressed that he handled it so easily.
Right. Of course, he was used to transferring someone from a vehicle to a wheelchair. Duh.
I blushed, and a new wave of guilt bubbled up. Here I was, thirsting over a man who was in mourning. It had been almost a decade since I was involved with anyone, and I’d only slept with two people in my entire life, but that was no excuse.
“Thank you again. For everything,” I said.
“It was no problem, really. Thank you for lending your son to my girls. Not to be an alarmist, but I think they’d kidnap him if they could.”
“You think so?” I laughed, imagining the two girls sneaking into my house while I pretended not to notice and rolling Max out for adventures.
Wait.
Perhaps it was a bit late to have the revelation, but suddenly I realized Max had never gone out without me except that one year he’d spent in kindergarten.
Huh, maybe he was due to be kidnapped by the LeBeau duo.
“The backpack!” Grabbing it, I rushed to the side of the van and slid open the door to hand it to Max. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
