Page 91 of One Big Little Secret

Arlo laughs. “Stay and eat pizza with us, Mr. Rory.”

Patton side-eyes me, but I don’t dare look at either of them.

Instead, I stare dead ahead.

If I narrow my eyes enough, there’s a chance I can bleed through into another dimension where my sonisn’tasking his unknown father to stay for dinner.

“Your mom’s had a rough night, Arlo. Don’t know if she wants company.”

“Yeah, she does,” Arlo announces with innocent confidence. “It’s okay, isn’t it, Mom?”

My lungs lock up for the hundredth time tonight.

This cannot be happening.

If I could snap my fingers and fall through the floor—to the center of the Earth, ideally—I would.

“It would be pretty terrible if I didn’t say thank you,” I say, well aware that Patton literally rescued us in time for a late dinner. “Patton, why don’t you stick around for some pizza? If you don’t have other plans, I mean…”

Those mundane words cut me from the inside out.

And he darts me a glance like he knows I’m mere seconds from having a nervous breakdown.

“You’re sure you’re up for that? Don’t invite me on the boy’s account.”

“No, no, you didn’t have to do any of this, but you did. I’m more than grateful.” The words come out bitter and I bite my tongue. “I just mean I owe you one. Personally.”

He navigates the icy roads with an expert hand and amazing tires that make the dicey conditions easy to manage.

“No special favors here. You might think it’s a big deal, but really it helps me,” he explains. “The Cardinal’s too damn new to lose a manager, even for a day. We can’t afford any crappy reviews and we need you there for your shift.”

“Business,” I repeat. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

It would be so easy to believe him, just going by what he says.

Except when he looks at me, his eyes say something else.

They shine like blue beacons, like Imatter, and that scares me more than anything else that’s happened tonight.

I can’t start mattering to this man.

Not with our past.

Not with his son sitting in the back seat while nobody knows the truth but me. And if he has a deeper motive behind rushing to our rescue somewhere behind those unfathomable blue eyes—

I shut down.

I flipping have to or this won’t end well.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long to get to my place.

When he switches off the engine, the only sound is the soft patter of the snow in that familiar deep wintry silence.

“Thanks again,” I say. “What sort of pizza do you like? I can order two if anchovies are your thing…”

Patton swallows like he’s reconsidering this. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him one bit. We’re on knife’s edge, and if we’re not careful, we’ll destroy the delicate balance we’ve established that kinda-sorta works.

“Please, Mr. Rory,” Arlo whines.

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