“Time for presents, Kitt,” Truck said with a grin. “You’ve been a good boy. The best. Waited until your momma was ready. Time for your reward, son.”
Bright-eyed, Kitt twisted and dug under the tree, focused as he began to sort the presents. Vanna knew from past Christmases he would have two piles at the end of this exercise, one for her and one for him. Truck’s hand gave hers a squeeze and she looked at him, surprised to realize he had drawn her hand to his lap, cradling it with both of his. “He’s a good boy,” he told her softly, startling a laugh from her. At the sound his expression gentled, growing tender as he looked at her. “Seems to have a real good momma.”
“Thanks,” she said. He’s all I have. “He’s my best boy. Keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.” She knew her smile had faded when his did as well, and she tried to toss off the melancholy with a quick acknowledgement. “Thank you for your patience with him this morning. You hit just the right tone.”
“How old was he when he was diagnosed?” Truck surprised her by going straight to the heart of things, indicating his reactions to Kitt’s behavior might be grounded in a personal knowledge tied to a natural caring soul.
“Not until he was older. Nearly six.” She shook her head, twisting to look away from Truck’s too-knowing gaze, taking in Kitt’s antics instead. “I knew at three that something wasn’t right.” She shook her head. “I’m not a fan of labels, but I have a slew of them if you need one. Just not right here,” she hesitated, cutting a glance back to Truck, seeing his eyes trained steadily on her, “not right now. Let me have Christmas.”
“You got it,” Truck immediately told her, his reassuring words nearly lost as Kitt chose that same moment to hoot in delight. He had the presents placed on either side of his legs, packages lined up from smallest to largest. Her side had three boxes, his held more than a dozen.
“Ready?” She asked Kitt the beginning question, saw him starting to squirm in place in anticipation. “Set?” The second question normally settled him to stillness, waiting for the release of the final word in their present-opening traditional game. This time however, he threw up one hand in a clear ‘halt’ signal. She rocked back on her bottom, and then bent her knees so she could lean farther forward. “What, Kitt?”
His eyes were working their way along the boxes, paper and bows individual to each package, name tags held in place with curling ribbons. Hers marked with a ‘V’ or an ‘M,’ depending on the gift’s origin, and Kitt knew those were hers. His presents all had his name on them, unmistakable and easy to differentiate from hers. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Features twisted, he was thinking hard about something, and she didn’t have any clues to help determine where he was headed. He shifted, rocking hip-to-hip, making more room for himself, the expression on his face fiercely intense as he looked up at Truck. “Wait,” he whispered. Thrusting to his feet, he sidestepped where she and Truck sat side-by-side, calling over his shoulder as he ran out of the room, “Wait.”
“What’s he doing?” Truck asked, and she shook her head, hearing Kitt’s feet pound up the stairs. He ran to his room and stomped around and around as she listened to him muttering to himself, his voice rising and falling in frustration.
“No idea. Sometimes it’s just better to go with the flow.” She tipped her chin down, not wanting to meet his gaze. Gratitude was hard for her to express. “Look, Truck, I appreciate your help with him last night. That could have derailed his whole night. You were awesome.”
He sighed and moved away slightly, saying, “But…” drawing out the one word.
She looked up at him, seeing his face had drawn into hard lines. “But?”
“Yeah, I hear it coming. It’s the ‘Thanks, but,’ speech. I’m just saving you the trouble of finishing it.” He released her hand and climbed to one knee, looking down at her. “Kitt told me to wait, but I think it’s time for me to head out.” He grabbed his boots, sliding them on and tucking the loose laces inside with angry movements. “I see I managed to overstay my welcome after all.”
Two seconds later, he was out the door and gone.
Truck
“Shit.” He tipped his head back, looking at the tops of the trees as they swayed against the sky. Their sensuous movements reminding him of how Vanna felt in his arms last night, dancing with him across her living room. Bending over, he stared at the ground as he laced up his boots, slapping the leather into the hooks by rote. Beautiful woman like that; inside even more beauty than what she carries on her outside. No way she’d want someone like me around her and her kid.