Page 22 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

I clear my throat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I get it, school sucks sometimes. Kids can be jerks, but fighting—”

“I didn’t start it.”

Ah, there it is. The defensiveness. “Okay, I believe you. But maybe if you talked to me, I could help.”

He huffs. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I know I shouldn’t take it personally. He’s thirteen. Everyone says this is normal behavior. But it’s hard. I’ve never had atemplate for fatherhood. It’s not like I grew up watching my dad guide me through life or anything.

I grew up in an orphanage with my brother, Ez. And we learned to fend for ourselves pretty damn early. We never got the whole father-son heart-to-heart playbook.

Fatherhood hit me like a freight train thirteen years ago when June—my one-night-stand from a charity gala—showed up at my doorstep, two months pregnant.

But I asked her to keep the baby. And thank God I did,because since Ez. . . My face darkens, as it always does when I think of my brother. Caleb is the only family I have left. He and no one else.

I glance over at him. He’s a miniature version of me. Same dark hair, same piercing blue eyes, but with his mother’s delicate features. I’m not sure if he even knows how much I love him. Hell, I’m not sure I know how to show him.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice softer this time.

“I’m fine.”

I clear my throat, trying to break through the fortress of hoodies and headphones again. “So, Leah . . .”

Caleb's head turns slightly, just enough to let me know he’s listening. The kid might be mad at me, but he’s still nosy.

“She’s new.”

“She’s an old friend,” I say a little too quickly.

“Old friend?” Caleb finally speaks. His tone is skeptical. “She seems . . . young.”

Ouch. “Hey, I’m not that old.” I shoot him a grin, but he doesn’t even crack a smile. Not that I expected him to. “What do you think? Do you like her?”

He shrugs again, his favorite move these days, but there’s something in the way his shoulders move that tells me he’s thinking. After a long pause, he mutters, “She’s . . . okay.”

Okay, I’ll take it. Better than a flat-out no.

Just as I’m about to dive deeper into that thread of conversation, my phone rings, and Harvey’s name pops up on the screen. I hit the Bluetooth button, glancing at Caleb to make sure he was not about to start rolling his eyes.

“Harvey, you’re on speaker. Caleb’s in the car.”

“Hey, Caleb!” Harvey’s voice booms through the speakers. But my son just mumbles something that’s a little too close to “whatever” for my liking.

Harvey doesn’t seem to mind, though. He never does. “Silas, don’t forget tonight.”

I frown. “Forget what?”

“Forget what?” Harvey asks incredulously. “Are you serious?”

I look over at Caleb like he has the answer. He doesn’t even spare me a glance. He removes his tablet from his backpack and starts tapping the screen repeatedly, probably to play a game.

“Jog my memory, Harvey.”

Harvey sighs, and I can almost see him shaking his head. “The anniversary dinner for Beth. I’ve organized it, remember? The small one. Youpromisedme you'd be there.”

Ah, damn. Of course. Beth. Harvey’s wife. Gone far too soon.

Although he has a different girlfriend every anniversary, he does this every year and keeps the memory alive with this little dinner. I can’t back out.

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