18. Harper

I jumped back from Kyle just as Piper came barreling into the kitchen. “It’s been eleven minutes,” she repeated. “And I want milk.”

Kyle’s eyes were wide for a moment. Then he blinked away the expression and swallowed, shaking his head like he was shaking something off. Without a word, he turned back to the air fryer and got to work pulling out the nuggets.

“Milk.” Clearing my throat, I tried to focus on my daughter. But I was haunted by what had almost happened. I didn’t know whether I was relieved that we were interrupted or disappointed. Not that it mattered, because when it came to Kyle, I didn’t have time for anything more than a very low-maintenance friendship.

“Yes. Milk,” she gritted out, her jaw tight.

“Sure.” I glanced at Kyle again, but he was taking chicken nuggets out of the fryer with so much focus one would think he was defusing a bomb rather than making dinner. With a shake of my head, I pulled Piper’s favorite cup from the cabinet and took it to the fridge.

“What is that?” she asked, her tone full of accusation.

As I turned around, I glanced at my hand, and my heart sank. Oh no. In my distraction, I’d totally forgotten to hide the incorrect almond milk from my eagle-eyed child.

“Almond milk.”

“No.” She blinked. “That’s not my milk.”

With a calming breath in and back out, I set the milk on the counter. Then I turned back to her. “The carton is different, but it tastes the same.”

Piper shook her head. “I want my milk.”

“It’s the same, Pipe,” I repeated, holding tight to my patience so I didn’t betray the tension that was running through me. If she could sense it, then it’d only make the situation worse.

Piper blinked three times, and then a fourth, her anxiety starting to climb. “No.” She lifted a hand, but before she could smack the milk out of my grasp, I caught her wrist.

“Piper. Deep breath, please.”

“No,” she bit out, the volume of her voice raising. “I want the normal milk.”

Any minute, Kyle would probably jump in. That had become his MO. But the best way for Piper to work through this was to work to calm herself down. Refocus her aggression into something else. Slowly, I stepped forward, still holding her wrist, and she stepped back, saying no once again. I eased the almond milk onto the counter and took another step out of the room. We took it one step at a time all the way down the hallway to my room.

There, I said, “I want you to jump fifty times.”

She glared at me, then at the mini trampoline, but she obeyed. And with every bounce, the tension eased from shoulders.

“Fifty more,” I said when she finished the first set and was still frowning.

Time-out could be successful for many kids who needed to chill out. But Piper needed the outlet of expending energy. Sitting on a step or chair wouldn’t settle her. The anxiety and adrenaline flowing through her needed to be burned off. Her OT had suggested jumping instead. And it had been a lifesaver for me.

After the second set, when she was winded and her expression was neutral, I asked, “Can we talk about what you want to drink now?”

Piper sighed. “Water. And I want to watch my show while I eat.”

“Okay,” I agreed, guiding her back into the kitchen.

When we entered the room, expecting to find the dinner mess, I discovered the place had been organized. There were two plates on the counter, and Kyle and Sam were eating at the table. Normally, when Piper had a meltdown, Sam would have to wait it out. Sometimes, while she threw a fit and I talked her down, dinner burned, and I’d have to throw the whole thing away.

This sight and the vast difference in what happened today versus what dinnertime often looked like, made my chest constrict. I had to remind myself not to get used to this.

I didn’t want to be jaded, but I knew that the only person I could trust in life was me.

Once I got Piper settled with her dinner at the small table by the television, I grabbed my plate and moved to sit with the boys.

“How come she bees bad and then gets a special treat? She’s watching the Revs. Can I watch Bluey ? I wasn’t bad,” Sam complained, his little lips turned down.

Part of me wanted to say no, to insist he sit at the table, because I expected that behavior from him. But he was right. It was unfair, regardless of their differences. He was the one who behaved, and in his mind, he was being punished for it.

“I thought you wanted to eat with Kyle?” I’d given up on the battle to call him Mr. Bosco since Kyle was so opposed. He was so offended by the idea of being a mister that I wondered if he had an issue with getting older.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Kyle, then surveyed the television across the room. As he focused on his plate again, his mouth lifted at the corner. “I ate my nuggies with Kyle already. Now I eat my lima beans with Bluey .”

Kyle chuckled, though he covered it up by coughing.

Hiding a smirk, I shook my head. “Fine. This time. But you know the rules. We eat together.”

Sam frowned but grabbed his plate and shuffled to the coffee table.

“It’s nice that you give him some grace.” Kyle watched Sam as he settled in. “I used to get so upset when I had to follow my own set of rules and expectations, rules that Ryan didn’t have to follow, then also have to follow the rules set in place for him too. We never got to have chocolate or sugar, and we didn’t go out to eat. We never went on vacation because Ryan’s therapies took every penny Mom made. Even if they hadn’t, Ryan couldn’t handle being away from home and his routines like that.”

I tried to be conscious of those issues, and I worked to make life as normal as I could for Sam, but it took a lot of juggling.

“I try.” With my fork, I moved the lima beans around my plate, head lowered.

For a moment, we sat in an awkward silence heavy with all that lingered between us.

I didn’t have the first clue what to talk about next, but anything would be better than the silence, so I went for it. “Thanks for not jumping in with Piper.”

Kyle set his fork down and studied me. “You had that handled. You didn’t need me getting in the way.”

I tracked his face, taking in the lines around his eyes and his tight lips, waiting for the moment he explained how I should have done it.

“I’m not trying to overstep or bulldoze.” He didn’t break eye contact. “You’re fully capable of dealing with Piper’s outburst and fits. She’s an incredible little girl, and that’s because of you.” He shrugged, his expression nothing but genuine.

But no one had ever described Piper that way before. She was difficult and trying and frustrating. And some days I felt like I was the only one who saw the good in her.

And here he was, telling me he saw it all. That made my heart swell and my eyes burn.

“I just want to help when you need it. When you could use another set of hands. Because it doesn’t seem like you have that.”

“Their dad has them for a night every other weekend.” The response was lame, but it was the truth. That was all the help I had these days.

“Can I overstep and ask what happened with you two?” The question was delivered with the charming smirk I was getting used to.

A year ago, the story had embarrassed me. It had made me feel somehow lacking. But I didn’t have the energy to be upset by it anymore.

“We struggled with Piper’s diagnosis.” I tried to keep my thoughts on Jace neutral for my kids’ sake, but also because he was only part of the issue. “It’s hard accepting a diagnosis that is going to make your child’s life different from what you expected. More challenging too. He and I handled things differently. I dove in full force, researching all I could to help her. He wanted the diagnosis to be wrong.”

“That’s not uncommon.”

“I was hyper-focused on her, and Sam too. He was only a few months old. And I was still working. He felt ignored. Insignificant.” He never helped, and I was exhausted, which only exacerbated our issues. But I could admit that I was overwhelmed and didn’t make the time for us the way I should have. “I thought if we could make it through a year or two, things would get better. But he got more distant and more obstinate. He became dead set on reducing the number of therapies she was doing. Then he got furious about the diet I had the kids on. It was so strange how uptight he became about money.”

Kyle rested his forearms on the table, his eyes narrowing.

The things I missed or ignored should have been glaring red flags. “When he filed for an extension rather than submitting our income taxes, I should have been concerned. But I had too many other things on my mind.” I shook my head. “I was juggling so much, and the one thing he handled without needing my input or guidance was our finances. God.” My stomach knotted at the memories. “I was dumb. Because it took fifteen months for me to discover that he’d lost his job and had been lying to me about going to work.”

“What?” Kyle’s jaw ticked, and a vein pulsed in his temple.

I had been so furious when I found out. Not only about the lies, but because, for more than a year, I had been juggling work and almost every one of our kids’ needs, and he had been spending his days sitting at a bar. Or going for walks in the park. The jealousy I’d felt about his free time was almost overwhelming.

I cleared my throat. “By the time I found out, we’d chewed through most of our savings, and…” I shook my head. That time had been awful. The betrayal and lies were bad enough, but then there was the lingering doubt I hadn’t been able to shake. And his audacity, to tell me I was being unreasonable when I questioned his actions and his motives. “He wasn’t as sorry as I thought he should have been. And I couldn’t bring myself to trust him. So we separated. He found out pretty quickly that he couldn’t handle Piper on his own, so he decided he didn’t want them for more than one night at a time. That part, I was okay with, because she would come back all out of sorts. It was easier to just keep her with me. But that meant his child support payments were higher, and he couldn’t afford them.”

Eyes closed, I blew out a hard breath, willing myself to keep the emotions where they belonged—in the past. Because getting upset didn’t help anyone.

“So,” I said, forcing my shoulders back, “after an expensive divorce, I ended up with a three-year alimony obligation.”

“ You pay him ?” Kyle asked through gritted teeth.

I nodded. “I had always made more money than he did, and for the last two years of our marriage, he was unemployed.”

He balled his hands into fists on top of the table. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“At first I was upset about it too, but I didn’t want my kids to see me as this bitter, angry person.” I shrugged. “So it is what it is.”

“What does your family say?”

I swallowed. “My mom and grandmother raised me, and they’re both gone now.” I took a bite of a nugget, giving myself time to put my thoughts in order. “My family stuff is…” I took a breath. “It’s a bunch of soap opera drama that no one wants to hear about.”

He reached out and put his hand over mine. “I do.” His warmth soaked into me and radiated up my arm, soothing me. At the same time, the intensity of his stare threatened to make me shiver. There was anger simmering in his eyes, but also an emotion that I swore looked like genuine care. It wasn’t a look directed my way often.

I took another breath and let it all spill out. “For most of my life, I thought my father was dead. He wasn’t. Another one of the many times in my life that someone lied to me.”

His hand tightened over mine, and his eyes flared with anger.

“As an adult, I discovered that I was the product of an affair. My mom worked for Southwest’s corporate office. She traveled a lot for work, and she fell in love with a married man in a position much higher up the ladder. She got pregnant, and he didn’t want to leave his family. That broke her heart, and she never got over it. So she spent the rest of her life drinking away the pain. Or trying to, I guess.”

He rolled his lips in on themselves and huffed out a breath through his nose before he spoke. “Which is why you don’t want your kids to view you as a bitter, angry person.”

I dipped my chin and nodded.

He straightened in his seat, wearing a concerned frown. “How did you find out about your dad?”

I wanted to laugh. The story was that ridiculous. “When she died, she left behind a letter. She spelled it all out for me. But I never contacted him. Figured that if he didn’t want to leave his family, then he probably wouldn’t appreciate his illegitimate child showing up, looking for a relationship. But four years later, his estate attorney called. I guess he had a lot of money, and he left some to me.”

He cocked his head, one brow lifted.

“But it doesn’t matter. His wife is contesting the will.”

“That’s…” He sputtered, choking on the words, his eyes bulging. “That’s…awful.”

I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t care. Let them have the money. I haven’t had the best experience with his family.” Hurt and frustration bubbled inside me, so I blew out a breath. I would not let any of it seep out. “I met my half brother, James, almost two years ago. He came into Boston Lights under the guise of moving his father in.”

Kyle leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his throat working. “What did he say? ‘Surprise, we’re related’?”

I held back a sardonic laugh. That would have been better.

“He never mentioned our connection. He spent the whole time acting as if he needed information about our facilities and options for long-term care.” Head lowered, I shook it. “After wasting hours upon hours of my time, following me around for two tours of the facility, communicating over the phone probably a dozen times, and what felt like a million emails, the guy ghosted me. It wasn’t until last year, when I walked into the reading of the will?—”

Kyle lunged forward in his chair. “You went to the reading of the will?”

Another moment of na?vety on my part. “My father’s attorney told me I had to. I had no idea that they weren’t expecting me or that I wouldn’t be welcome.” I used my fork to push a single lima bean back and forth on my plate. “When I saw James, I was confused. Turns out, his mother didn’t know he’d been in contact with me. That he’d met me. His sister didn’t even know I existed.” Emotion pricked at the backs of my eyes, but I blinked it away. It had been a total shit show. “After a bunch of screaming and some name-calling?—”

“Name-calling?” Kyle gritted out, his brows pulled low in anger.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. James’s mother made a comment along the lines of ‘who invited the slut’s daughter?’”

I remembered her comment word for word, but I had nowhere near the energy to rehash the confrontation. My mother was far from perfect—I knew that—but that woman had acted as if I was somehow to blame for her husband’s infidelity.

“It was a disaster. She and I both said things we shouldn’t have.” I glanced over at the kids, who were still locked into their show. “After she lost her shit on me, I basically told them all to F-off and stormed out.”

Kyle’s jaw was tight again, the tendons in his neck strained. “Seems fair to me.”

“James chased me down in the parking lot and apologized.” I tightened my hold on my fork, trying not to frown at the memory that played in my head. “He wanted a chance to get to know the kids and me.” He’d begged, and after I left, saying I’d think about it, he got my number from the attorney. Which seriously pissed me off at first. “Since we don’t have any other family, I’m trying to give him a chance. For the kids’ sake.”

Kyle studied me, a swirl of emotion in his eyes I couldn’t interpret.

“Maybe it’s dumb.” I shrugged, swallowing back my apprehension. Because maybe I shouldn’t have shared any of this.

“It’s not dumb.” His eyes blazed now, this time with an aggressive protectiveness that made no sense to me. “It’s a testament to how forgiving you are.”

I shook my head. “I’m not that nice to him. Trust me. If you asked him, he’d probably tell you I’m difficult.”

He reached out and covered my hand with his once more, warming me in a way I shouldn’t like. Long fingers wrapped around my hand, and the tips pressed into my palm.

“You’re different. Not difficult.” His deep voice vibrated through my bones. Our gazes stay locked, and this odd antsy energy rushed through me. “There’s something about you…” He shook his head, lowering it.

The sincerity in his tone, in his demeanor, made my breath catch. Dammit. I could not let myself like this man.

“Every day, you impress me more.” With a small smile, he gave my hand another squeeze.

“I finished all my food,” Sam hollered, his voice jarring me out of the moment. He scurried toward the table, carrying his empty plate, dropping his fork to the floor halfway to us. “Can we play and sneak M&M’s now?” he asked Kyle.

Kyle released my hand and stood up.

“ Sneak M&M’s?” I cocked a brow at my child, then at our guest.

“Kyle has the best baseball M&M’s. They’re so yummy. He gaves me some at school every day.” Sam beamed up at his buddy.

Lips pursed, I fought the smile that was pulling at me as I looked between the two of them again.

“No ratting me out to Mom, kiddo.” Kyle chuckled. “Let’s play clean-up, and then we’ll do the Lego set you brought home.” He picked up my plate.

I stood and held a hand out, ready to take it back. “You don’t need to.”

“But I want to.” His focus was set on my face, his eyes warm, his words nothing but sincere. “I want to be someone you can count on.”

My stomach flipped as I took in the open honesty in his expression. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe I could trust someone.