Page 26 of Stolen Dreams

As quickly as the buzz sparks to life, I shut it down. It doesn’t matter what it means.

First and foremost, his son is a student under my care. Relationships between staff and parents of students are a conflict of interest and presumed to be—but not stated—forbidden.

Second, a romantic relationship is off the table for at least another five years. When I graduated college, I promised myself I’d focus on my career until I had a strong foothold. I don’t want my students to suffer because my attention is elsewhere.

If, by some miracle, those reasons are of no consequence, it still doesn’t matter. In the end, my parents will undoubtedly disapprove. My future isn’t dictated or set in stone by my family, but I do value their opinions. I cherish their love and guidance. I respect them and want to make them proud.

And no matter which way I spin it, I don’t see my future including a man such as Ray Calhoun.

SEVEN

RAY

“Why doyou get to go out for breakfast, but I don’t?” Tucker grumbles as I tug a shirt over my head.

“It’s a work meeting, bud.” I ruffle his hair as I pass him for the bathroom. Squeezing product in my hand, I add it to my hair then run a brush through it. I glance at him in the mirror and shrug. “Lots of talking about boring stuff.”

Tucker crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Yeah, with yummy food.” His gaze hardens as his lips purse in obvious annoyance.

Washing my hands, I fetch the deodorant from the counter and swipe some on. Then I add a hint of cologne. “Grandma makes some of the best breakfast in town.” I breeze past him as I exit the bathroom and head for the closet. Sneakers in hand, I sit on the foot of the bed and slip them on. “No one’s stuffed French toast is as good as Grandma’s.”

Tucker steps up to the bed on my right and kicks at the end of the comforter. “But she doesn’t make it with chocolate chips or whipped cream,” he grouses.

“T-Man.” I wait for him to look up. When he finally does, I bite my cheek to resist laughing at his forced pouty expression. Unfolding his arms, I hold his hands in mine. “Grandma makesgourmet candies and chocolates every morning she works, bud. I bet if you asked her, she’d make something with chocolate chips and whipped cream.”

A hint of hope glimmers in his eyes. “Really?”

I nod. “Really,” I assure. “Now, go.” Slipping my hands from his, I dig my fingers into his side and wiggle them. “Finish getting ready.”

Squeals of pure joy fill the room as I tickle Tucker. The biggest smile plastered on his face, he swats at me and pushes me away. “S-s-stop.” He snort-laughs and shoves harder. “No m-more.” A hefty dose of hysterical laughter. “I… I… I’m gonna p-pee my p-pants.”

After one last wiggle of my fingers, I release him, and he runs for the bathroom.

Rising from the bed, I glance around the room, checking if I need anything else before heading downstairs. I pocket my phone, wallet, and keys, then head for the hall.

“Finish getting ready, bud. I’ll be downstairs. Go time in five minutes.”

“’Kay,” he shouts as the sink turns on.

Downstairs, I wait for Tucker on the couch. Sifting through a folder about the summer cooking school, I double-check André and I didn’t miss anything. As I skim the last page, Tucker plods down the stairs with his backpack over his shoulders.

“Did you pack your swim shorts?” I ask as I close the folder and rise from the couch.

He reaches around and pats his bulging backpack. “Yep. And my water blaster, fin, and flippers.”

When I asked Mom and Dad if they minded watching Tucker for an hour this morning while I went to a meeting, they offered to keep Tucker a little longer. After our talk, I told Mom I didn’t want to burden her with watching Tucker longer than necessary. She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and said spendingtime with her grandson is never a bother. She only wants to make sure I’m getting enough time with him.

“You’ve missed so much already, sweetheart. Don’t want you to miss anything else. Tucker needs his dad, and you need your son.”

It’s really that simple.

I may have seen Tucker take his first step, may have heard him say his first few words, but I missed countless milestones after. Like seeing him kick his first ball or jumping and dancing on his own for the first time. Watching him draw his first picture. Answering all his questions about animals and sea creatures and people. Being annoyed with his pouty nos and inquisitive whys. Learning what foods he loves and which ones he can’t stand.

I still have years to experience a different version of those with Tucker, a future full of other firsts, but I’ll never get a chance at the ones I missed. I’ll never get those stolen moments back, and neither will he.

Rushing to his side, I scoop him up off the floor and pin him to my chest. I poke the side of his neck and he tucks his chin to fight me off. “Where are those gills?” I tease as I carry him toward the door.

His giggles fill the air and warm my heart. “S-stop it.” He laughs harder. “I don’t have g-gills.”

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