Page 14 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Marines, to be specific,” Archer adds.

I nod once, trying hard not to look doe-eyed. I’m practically drooling with mindless desire as I stare at him. “Former Marines. Wow. That’s… um, that’s badass.”

“Sure, until you’re in the middle of the action and there are bullets darting past your head,” he mumbles, then gives Maddox a sideways glance. “We’re more into business entrepreneurship these days, aren’t we, brother?”

“Yeah, the same excitement, but no guns or landmines,” Maddox replies.

“Except the ones hidden in contracts.”

I laugh lightly, appreciating the dynamic between them. They’re at ease with one another, in perfect sync even. Their body language is fluid and smooth. Their eyes are quick to register the tiniest detail, the subtlest change in demeanor. They’re hawks, and I feel like the rabbit that’s about to go up the hill in hopes of reaching my burrow before they snatch me.

As we laugh, Archer discreetly slips his arm around me and briefly rests his hand on the small of my back. It’s swift, but it’s enough to get my blood pumping, tiny fires exploding across my skin as I struggle to keep my composure.

By the time Reed comes back with the coffee, I’m feeling lightheaded, so I’m thankful for the shot of espresso combined with sweet hazelnut syrup and frothy milk. I’m also thankful for the tour guide, who gets us back on course and escorts us through the rest of the exhibit.

“They’re not really talking to one another, are they?” Reed asks as we look at our kids.

“Nope. But at least Trevor doesn’t seem as tense as earlier.”

“I do appreciate how patient Maisie is,” he says. Archer and Maddox walk behind us while Trevor and Maisie are just up ahead, tailing the tour guide as she takes us into the next room, which is filled with various models of cell phones dating back to the 1980s. “I assume she’s usually chattier and eager to play,” Reed adds.

I nod slowly. “For the most part. But it really depends on who she’s with. Hyperactive kids turn her into a little gremlin sometimes. I think Trevor has the opposite effect on her. He seems mellow.”

“He wasn’t like that before.”

“I assume he’s changed since his parents died,” I reply, giving Reed a long and thoughtful look. “Am I right?”

“He used to be so full of energy. We used to call him ‘Atomic Trev.’ From the minute he learned to walk, he kept his parents on their toes. The kid was an expert at bolting.His dad repeatedly contemplated getting one of those children’s harnesses.”

“Oh, no,” I giggle, then take a sip of my coffee.

“Oh, yeah. But then Kayla told Tyler she would absolutely divorce him if he put that thing on their child. For a minute, Ty was tempted to challenge her on it, but in the end, he had to adjust. Lucky for them, Trevor grew out of the bolting stage pretty quickly. Or they just got used to it. I’m still not sure which,” Reed says.

The softness in his gaze and the tenderness of his voice as he remembers his best friends cause something to tug at my heartstrings. I can only imagine how it must’ve felt for Reed and his brothers to lose Trevor’s parents. I guess the kid isn’t the only one still grieving, but the Faulkner brothers are at least old enough to understand the whole thing.

“So, Trevor was happier, more energetic before,” I say, trying to help the conversation pull out of a sad detour.

“Restless is more like it. But in a good way. You just had to keep a close eye on him. He had a way of constantly testing the laws of physics. It didn’t matter how many times you told him not to do something because he might get hurt. The boy would give it a shot and suffer the consequences afterward.”

“That bad?” I laugh.

“Trevor has seen his share of emergency rooms,” Archer says, briefly glancing over his shoulder just long enough to make my skin feel tight again. “A broken leg, a broken arm, lots of sprains and bruises.”

“The doctors thought he was having a difficult situation at home,” Reed remembers, half-amused. “They called in social services and everything. We actually had to step in and show them video recordings from our weekends together just to prove that Trevor was, in fact, a little daredevil. It was so awkward.”

“Then it happened,” Maddox says. “The accident.”

“I’m so sorry,” I reply.

“None of us expected it. Tyler was an excellent driver. But the truck was out of control. Black ice on the road. They didn’t stand a chance,” Reed says.

“And Trevor? Where was he?”

“He was staying at our place for the weekend, thankfully. Tyler and Kayla were driving up into the Rocky Mountains for a getaway. They needed some time for themselves, and we were always happy to oblige. Besides, we loved hanging out with the kid.”

The picture is becoming clearer now. It’s showing me three men who are completely out of their comfort zone where raising Trevor is concerned. They love him to the moon and back, that much is obvious. They care about him, and they make sure he has everything he needs, even though they have yet to figure out how to get him out of this emotional limbo that he’s stuck in.

The picture is showing me three men with the means to buy this kid whatever he wants, but they’re so full of love and so determined to give him a safe home and a stable family that material possessions do not matter.

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