Page 208 of Fighting the Pull

He put the phone back on charge and walked up the stairs.

The stuffed lion was so huge, with it and Hale in the same bed, there wasn’t room for anything else. His son’s bedroom was illuminated by a nightlight that projected stars all over the ceiling and walls, something Corey saw and decided Hale had to have because he wanted his son to understand the sky was the limit. Always.

He stood by his boy’s bed, gazing down at him. Hale looked innocent and so young, with that thick hank of brown hair that was the exact same color as Corey’s.

He reached out to smooth back a lock that had fallen on Hale’s forehead, but seeing his adult hand moving toward his child’s face, something made him pull away.

It was all right.

He would never.

Not ever.

But…just in case.

He pulled up the covers instead. Adjusted the lion so it was closer.

And with his son safe and sleeping after having fun at the fair, Corey left the room and went back downstairs.

CHAPTER29

BIRTHDAY CAKE

Hale

Now…

His mother chosea Greek place in Pasadena for them to meet.

He remembered that place. It was her favorite. He knew this because, if she had him on his birthday, that was where they went.

Hale liked Greek, but he’d always buried he had issues with a candle in a piece of baklava acting as his cake. One of his favorite things was a white birthday cake with tons of frosting. Birthday cake was his favorite flavor of ice cream, he liked it so much.

He didn’t have to worry, when Genny got her hands on him, she always had a birthday cake ready for him.

And if his dad had him for his birthday, it would be on the counter in the kitchen when he got home from school. Always extravagant. Generous swirls of frosting. Tons of sprinkles.

Sure, their housekeeper ordered it, went out and got it and put it there, but he knew his dad made it happen.

He knew because Hale had confessed to him about the baklava.

“You okay?” Elsa asked into this memory.

He stretched his neck on either side and said, “I had a lot of birthdays here.”

“There isn’t an underlying vibe of remembered joy in the way you said that,” she pointed out, watching him closely.

“For future reference, I really like birthday cake. White cake. Lots of frosting. And unleash the sprinkles.”

He watched her mouth thin as what he didn’t say sunk in.

“If I was with Dad, he always made sure I had that kind of cake.” He adjusted his menu that was lying in front of him. “It’s uncomfortable having memories surface of how he cared, which means I didn’t notice it before, and he had to know I didn’t notice.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that, honey,” she replied.

“You don’t have to respond.”

“Okay, but at this juncture, I feel I need to make note that if you were a shit son, he wouldn’t have given you the empire he built. But more, he wouldn’t have given you what was in that box.”

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