Still pressed against me, he doesn't move until I order him to. His unfocused eyes fight to make sense of what's going on around him, but when they can't, he takes a few steps back and stares at me in bewilderment.
I turn around to find Ryan with wide eyes, staring up at me like he can't believe I talked to his dad like that. I get the impression that no woman really talks to Jim like that. Well, maybe Sylvia should have taken a firmer hand with him before he was taller than her. If Ian grows up to be like that, so help me . . .
My boy's got his head bowed again, so instead of checking his mood, I just scoop him up in my arms and offer my hand to Ryan. He doesn't take it, though. Instead, the boy who's not really mine takes my pinky and gives it a squeeze. My heart clenches at the small but intimate gesture. He must have seen Ian holding my pinky like that at some point. It's not something he does often, but every now and then my boy opts for wrapping his entire hand around my pinky finger. I can't remember why he started doing it or when, but he does it when he needs a little extra care.
With my boys in tow, I walk us out of the clubhouse, completely ignoring the curious gazes from the looky loos at the bar.
CHAPTER 8
"Okay," I say and lean forward conspiratorially. "So what happened at school today?"
The easy, light conversation falls away immediately, and I find myself the only party interested in this conversation. It has to happen, though. Ian's never been one to just come out with something that's been bugging him, so I'm not terribly surprised by the scowl he's giving the old wooden table that takes up the majority of our kitchenette.
"Well, dude. Out with it." My attention is now focused on Ryan, who's doing everything he can to avoid meeting my eyes. With Ian, this is all it takes to get him to open up. At least a little bit. He's not one to hold out when I ask him questions, so I'm not real used to sitting and waiting this long, but I do.
When I can come up with something to say to Ryan that might make him feel comfortable enough to talk to me, I break the silence and scoot closer to him. It dawns on me far too late that Ryan's probably used to being yelled at rather than spoken to, so I keep that in mind as I broach the subject again.
"Hey, you can talk to me. You're not in trouble, kid. But you do have to tell me what happened between you two."
"Nothing happened," Ryan says. It's way too quick for me to believe him, but I don't press. Instead, I wait it out and turn to my son, who's practically worn a hole in our table with his level on concentration. It's commendable how committed they are to keeping their silence, but I'm going to break them. If I can't break a couple of kids, I don't stand a chance when Ian's a teenager.
"Have it your way," I say and scoot my chair back. Just as I stand up, there's a loud, impatient knock on the front door. Both Ryan and Ian's eyes shoot up to the door. I give them a reassuring smile and cross the small room. Our apartment isn't much more than a kitchenette, bathroom, and a combination living and sleeping area. It might not be very big, but it's enough for us.
I press my eye to the peephole, surprised to find Sylvia Stone on the other side. Pulling the door open and moving aside, I dare not speak. I didn't really abduct her grandson, but I did leave with him. I already know she doesn't like me much, and after the scene in the clubhouse this afternoon, there's no telling where I stand with the club.
"Grandma!" Ryan shouts for his grandma and waves his arms in the air to get her attention. She gives him a smile and saunters into my apartment. Her eyes scan the room, her head bobs up and down, and she tosses her oversized purse on the couch. Sylvia's not a very tall woman, but she takes up space in a way I've never seen another woman do before.
"What are you boys up to?"
Neither of them answer Sylvia's question. Most likely because they're still keeping mum about what happened at school today. Which is what's important here. I do my best to ignore Sylvia's commanding presence in my small, private space, and I go back to what I was doing before she knocked on my front door.
"Do you like ice cream?" I open the freezer and cast Sylvia a sideways glance. She brushes her dark hair back from her eyes and nods once. Everything about this woman is so militant. She does what she has to and only says what the situation requires and nothing else. I try to follow her lead and do the same as I pull out two bowls and scoop some chocolate ice cream into each. I hand a bowl to Sylvia and grab spoons for each of us. She sits in the empty chair between the two boys and takes a bite of her ice cream while they stare up at her.
"Hey, I want ice cream, too," Ian says. Ryan pipes up complaining, but I ignore them as I take a few bites of my ice cream.
"I have something you want, and you have something I want. Think we can make a deal?"