“I’ve got Zach.”
Those three words had relief soaring through her so fast it was painful. Her heart started back again at a sluggish rate, and her lungs burned with the effort to drag in full breaths. “Oh my God. You have him.” Her voice sounded like she’d pushed the words through a tunnel of jagged glass. She paused. “Did you pick him up from school? You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
He waited a beat before answering. “We just got in. I came home from practice and he was sitting on my front step. Taxi,” he added, answering her next question before she could ask. “Taxi and allowance money. Look, he’s safe here, we’re watching some TV, and I’ve got the rest of the night off. He said you have a lot of clients today, which was why he was going to the babysitter’s. I’ll keep him with me, and you can swing by when you’re done.”
She slid a trembling hand over her face. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I’m offering. It’s nice to watch sports when there’s someone else to yell at the TV with.”
“You don’t have any of his food—”
“He’s munching on Oreos right now, and we’ll figure out dinner. I’ll get some recipes from your blog.” When she didn’t say anything, he said, “Kara. We’re fine. He’s fine.”
“I’m sorry I accused you.” A lone tear leaked out, a weakness she could indulge in now that her son was safe. “That was rude of me.”
“I can hear in your voice you’re frantic. It’s fine. Just come by when you’re done.”
She nibbled on her lip. “I really should get him now and drag him—”
“Kara.” His voice was lower, as if he wanted to keep it a secret. The faint sound of the TV was gone now. He must have stepped into another room. “He’s got something eating at him. So I’m going to keep him here and let him unload for a bit. Sometimes, talking to an adult who isn’t a parent just works better when a kid needs to vent. Come get him later. Punish him later. Do the whole Responsible Mom thing later. But give him a little time first. Give yourself a little time, too.”
She should scold him for giving her parenting advice when he had no experience. But he’d once been a young boy. She couldn’t discount that. “I’ll call you when I’m on the way.”
“Perfect. We look forward to seeing you.” He chuckled, then added, “Well, I do, anyway.” Then he hung up.
She set the phone down on the bench beside the duffel and covered her face with both hands. Now that she actually had the time to cry, the tears wouldn’t come. It was as if they knew she could afford the moment to self-indulge, and were stubbornly withholding.
Even her tear ducts were against her.
With a shaky breath, she quickly texted Sylvia to let her know, stuffed the phone in her bag, stood on wobbly legs and made her way to the parking lot.
*
HEADLIGHTS cut through his open front window, waking Graham from the drowsy, relaxed pose on the couch. He sat up, muting the TV as he did, and checked out the window. Definitely Kara’s car, though she wasn’t turning it off and getting out. Was she hoping to grab him and run?
No way in hell.
But even as he watched, prepared to go out there and pull the keys out of the ignition himself, she slowly let her head drop to the steering wheel. He could see the exhaustion and worry from the front door. She wasn’t trying to grab-and-go. She just wasn’t ready to deal with the stress yet.
He gave her another few moments and went to check on Zach. He’d hit a slump at about eight thirty. Early for a kid his age, but Graham had a feeling the adrenaline of running off plus the excitement of being able to hang with him for a while had taken its toll. He’d carried the boy—and what a trusting, humbling weight that had been to hold against his shoulder and chest—to his guest room and tucked him in. It was a school night, so no way would he stay. But until Kara could come back for him, it was a more comfortable place to rest.
Zach was still out, and snoring just a little. Graham smiled, then closed the bedroom door again and headed to the front door. He made it just in time to open it before Kara rang the bell and woke the boy up.
“Hey.” He held it open and let her come in. She wore yoga pants that were cropped at the calves and molded perfectly to her long legs, a flowy tank top that skimmed the top of her spectacular ass, and her hair in a long braid that emphasized how slim and tempting her neck was.
She looked around the living room, then into the kitchen. “Zach?”
“Sleeping in the guest room. He zonked out early, and I figured you might need a few minutes before you got him to go home.” When she just stood there, staring toward the hallway that contained the bedrooms, he added, “I’m sorry. I hope you weren’t worried too much.”