Page 109 of Hot Stuff
I slap a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you say it. I would never desert you.Never.”
“But we’ve only just gotten together,” he murmurs against my palm.
“Don’t care. You don’t tell someone you love them, then hightail it out of there when shit gets hard. I am not my father.”
His eyes go round, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead as those last five words echo in my head.
“Huh.” I lower my hand from his face. “Didn’t see that before.”
“It’s why you’re the way you are.” He lets me go to cradle my face. “You’re loyal to the bone, Oakley. I get that more every day I’m with you, but I want you to know I’d understand?—”
“Stop talking!”
He smiles at me. “Okay. But can I say one more thing?”
“What?” I eye him suspiciously.
“I love you.”
I nod. “Okay, I’ll allow that.”
“Hungry.”
We pull apart to find a sleep rumpled Micky standing a few feet away.
Crouching down so I’m at eye level with him, I ask, “What would you like to eat?”
“Pancake.”
I glance up at Walker. “We can make pancakes.”
“We can.” Walker gets busy finding what we need. “I think Shel got one of those, yes, here it is.” He holds up a box of pancake mix.
“What do you like on your pancakes, Micky?” I reach out a hand and hold my breath while I wait to see if he’ll take it.
“Yellow sauce.”
I look at Walker, and see he’s got no more clue than me what yellow sauce is. “Okay, why don’t you come over here and show me?”
I’m still looking at Walker when I feel a small warm hand slip into mine. My gaze zips back to Micky, to our hands, up to his face again.
He’s smiling at me. A sleepy one and maybe when he wakes up more, he’ll be wary of us again, but right now he’s not, and I’ll take that for the precious gift it is.
Leading him to the pantry, I move him in front of me so he can see what’s on the shelves. He’s way too short to see all of them.
“Can I pick you up so you can see?” I ask.
“Please.”
His s is slurred a little but I think that’s age more than a lisp. Gently I wrap my arms around him and put him on my hip. Taking in a deep breath, I swallow to clear my throat of the lump blocking it.
“Can you see the yellow sauce?”
Micky’s arm shoots out, his finger pointed straight at the bottle of honey.
“Ah, right, yellow sauce.” I grin as I grab the bottle and turn. I stop short when I see Walker standing there staring at us. I can’t quite read the look in his eyes but I see the sheen of tears in them.
“Hey, little man, do you want to help me make the pancakes?”
