Page 95 of Stolen Dreams

This softens his frame a bit. “I miss Jordan and my other friends at the skate park.”

A shiver rolls up my spine, but I do my best to ignore it. My decision to not leave the house comes from a good place, but I’d be a fool to not see the negative impact it has made on him.

“Let’s plan the skate park for another weekend.”

Disappointment blankets his expression.

“That way you can make sure Jordan will be there,” I add.

“Okay,” he says, understanding but disheartened. “Can we dosomethingtoday? Please.”

I bite my cheek to hide my wince as I mull over a solution.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Kaya speaks up for the first time since we sat down to eat.

Please don’t be something outlandish or risky.Swallowing past the expanding ball of nervous energy in my throat, I nod.

The apple of her cheeks plump as a soft smile curves her lips. Her coppery-brown irises sparkle as they shift from me to Tucker. “How about we start with lunch at RJ’s? If your dad feels better and is up to it when lunch ends, we’ll do something fun.”

Tucker’s hands drop to his lap as his face lights up. “Like what?”

I’d like to know as well.

“After breakfast”—Kaya aims a pointed look at Tucker’s plate—“your dad and I will talk about it. Not eating this delicious French toast is a deal breaker.”

Damn, she makes following the rules sexy.

Tucker cuts into his French toast, stabs the piece, and shovels it into his mouth. One bite after another, he clears his plate. The entire time, I stare at Kaya, utterly astonished.

I’m still not keen on leaving the house, not until Travis Emerson or Tymber Woulf give me good news. But if we go anywhere, a familiar place, one I know inside out, is the best option.

Tucker bolts up the stairs to shower and dress for the day. Kaya helps me clear the table and clean up in the kitchen. A few minutes after the shower turns on, Kaya sidles up to me at the kitchen sink.

“Things have been up in the air, especially since you haven’t heard from her again, but you need this. Both of you.”

I hand her a rinsed plate for the dishwasher. “I know.” Rinsing the next dish, I take a deep breath. “I’ve never been big on gut feelings, but something still doesn’t sit right.”

She loads the next dish I hand her. “We’ll be right there with him. At all times.”

“Not sure I can handle anywhere besides the diner,” I admit.

“And that’s okay.” She presses a kiss to the top of my arm. “But in case you’re up for more, where should we go?”

I mull over the possibilities, and anxiety creeps in as I picture the crowds. “Not sure. I’ll think on it.”

Kaya wipes her hands dry then passes me the towel. “Come on, Chef. We need to get cleaned up and ready.”

Tossing the towel on the counter, I wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her off the floor. Laughter fills the air and is a balm to my soul.

“Only if I get you dirty first,” I mumble against the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

“Yes, please.”

I climb the stairs two at a time with Kaya in my arms and deliver on my promise.

It’s been far too long since life felt this normal.

Tucker tells a corny joke, and my full belly laugh draws the attention of nearby patrons. I don’t care, though. It feels great to laugh, to experience this light, whimsical sensation in my chest. In this moment, life is good, carefree, perfect.

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