Page 18 of Assigned

I miss and laugh. “This is harder than it looks.”

“You get used to it. Takes practice. Mason gets stuck driving up the wall sometimes.”

After a few attempts and more laughs, I hand the controller back. “You know what? Why don’t you two play and I’ll watch? It’ll give me time to understand the game and maybe next time I can join in.”

“You don’t have to wait until I come to visit. I have the game at my mom’s house too. We can connect online and play,” Mason says.

I swallow the pretzel I’d been chewing. Weird... why would he want to play with me? “I’m sure I don’t measure up to your other friends. You’d probably get bored.”

“He doesn’t have friends where his mom lives,” Parker says.

Mason lets out a deep growl then turns to face his friend. “Shut up, dummy.”

“Hey, boys. That’s not the way to talk to one another. And what does Parker mean, you don’t have any friends?” I place the bowl down on the coffee table in front of us and angle myself to face Mason.

He avoids my gaze, concentrating on the game. “Parker doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. You FaceTime all of us every day talking about how your school sucks and how you hate it. You even said you wished your dad got hurt so he could stay home more and you could move back here.”

My breath catches at Parker’s words. Mason had actually wished his father to get hurt. To stay home. I take a deep, centering breath. I’m not really sure what my place is in this situation, but Lucas had mentioned his son was having a hard time. Maybe I can find a little more information out to help. “Mason, do you really not like your other school?”

Mason lets his car crash in the game. His shoulders hunch inward, so tense that they quiver. “The other kids, they don’t understand. Their parents aren’t gone like mine and Parker’s dads. They’re not in the military, and when I say my dad is on a mission, they say I’m lying and my dad left because he didn’t want me.”

My heart beats so hard, I’m afraid it might come out of my chest. Sadness and rage war within me. Is it wrong for a twenty-nine-year-old woman to want to beat the crap out of some snot-nosed children? A growl deep within my chest rumbles as I recall how mean some kids were back in high school. How they’d make fun of Lucas for the clothes he wore and point out his family’s financial status.

“Did you tell your teachers?” I do my best to keep my voice steady. No sense is showing how riled up I am as it won’t help Mason.

Both boys turn and stare at me as if I’d just unplugged their game. With a groan, Mason shakes his head. “Tattling will make it worse. Then I’ll be a rat and a kid whose dad doesn’t like him. It was better here where the other kids understood what it’s like. A lot of the kids here have parents like mine. Sometimes our moms and dads went away together. Sometimes they went different places. Those kids know what it’s like, about how our parents love us and aren’t running away, even if they have to go away.”

My heart keeps breaking listening to Mason, my gaze bouncing between both boys. This is the life they live, knowing their fathers might not come home. But they both seem to know they are loved. They are so brave. Whatever Mason needs from me, I vow to be there for him. The more people on his side, the better. “I’ll talk to your dad about it. We’ll figure out a way to help.”

Mason jumps up. “No!”

I pull back, blinking. Not the reaction I expected. Well, not the harshness of it.

“You’ve gotta promise, Riley. You can’t tell Dad.” He wrings his hands. “I can take care of it myself.”

“Why, Mason? Maybe he can help.” I reach out to take his hands and still them.

“He can’t.” He shakes his head. “He’ll only worry, and if he’s worried, he’ll get distracted, and if he gets distracted...” His words fade out.

My gaze turns to Parker who has also become sullen. The image of the kids at the Gold Star Family Surf School comes back to me. If Lucas is distracted at his job, he might not come home. “I get it, Mason.”

“Then you won’t tell him?” he says, looking up at me with eyes that are just a bit too shiny. He holds up his hand, crooked pinkie forward. “Pinkie-swear?”

I curl my little finger around his. “Pinkie-swear.”

Mason nods and sits back down. “I’ll talk to Mom. I promise. Just please don’t make my dad worry.”

“Okay, but be sure you talk to your mom about it, okay?” Uneasy, I grab my laptop and research online jobs as the boys return to playing their video game, laughing and poking at each other as if the conversation we just had never happened. But whether or not I should say something to Lucas keeps nagging at me. Nothing like feeling caught in the middle, and being the new person in the family, I’m not sure what to do. Hopefully, Mason will talk to his mother and she’ll relay the information to my husband.

I shake myself and refocus on my own situation. I need a job that can accommodate my Crohn’s flare-ups and has benefits that will help cover the medications and treatments I need. It’s all fine and well to have Lucas’s insurance now, but being able to take care of myself is a necessity because there is no guarantee at the end of the year Lucas will continue to want to be married. That was never my intention anyway. This marriage, this assignment, is only supposed to be temporary. A holdover until I can do things on my own. The fact that it’s Lucas doesn’t change anything. Or so I keep telling myself. Because I can’t seem to stop thinking about what it might be like if we were really together.

Speaking of taking care of myself, I should be hearing back soon about my qualifications for the new medication. Shame how long it takes. But at least the place has financial assistance since the drugs are new and no one’s insurance will cover them yet.

I scroll through a couple of websites that list work-from-home jobs that offer medical benefits and click open tabs to a couple of companies that catch my eye. Most offer minimum wage but the bonuses like paid training and retirement benefits are definitely a plus.

Just as I complete the seventh application, the doorbell rings. After closing my laptop and placing it on the coffee table, I stand and make my way up the stairs to the front door. The boys are supposed to be here for another hour or so before Lucas gets home to drive them back to their respective households, and I’m not expecting anyone. Maybe my husband ordered something in the mail? I hope it’s not someone selling something.

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