Page 16 of The House on Firefly Beach
Nate continued, “They can heal a lot more easily if the other fish takes a bite out of their tail instead of their head.”
Robby leaned in just a tiny bit and peered closer at the tail of the fish, fascinated. “That’s cool,” he said.
“Syd, can you grab those pliers for me?” Nate asked.
“I’ve got ’em,” Robby said, running over to the plastic box of supplies, most likely to get away from Nate. He grabbed the tool and carried it over to his mother, handing it to her.
Sydney walked the tool to Nate.
“I’m going to cut him loose. Want to watch him swim away?” he said to Robby.
Robby kept quite a distance but followed Nate into the water until it was up to his knees. With swift, fluid actions, Nate used the pliers to release the fish. It dropped from the hook and shot through the surf, disappearing. Robby smiled, a genuine sparkle in his eye as he looked up at Nate, taking Sydney’s breath away. There, in the setting sun, Nate and Robby were side-by-side grinning at each other like some sort of family postcard. But then Robby quickly moved away from Nate, running back up onto the shore.
“Robby, it’s probably time to go inside and get your bath,” Sydney suggested, the look they’d shared a little too close for comfort.
“Ah, let him stay up,” Uncle Hank called over, holding his fishing rod, his line still sunk in the waves.
There was no way Sydney was allowing Robby to warm up to Nate. Yes, she wanted him to have a male role model in his life, but Nate wasnotthe one to serve that purpose. And there was no way this would end well, because Nate would undoubtedly leave and Sydney knew she couldn’t count on him to keep in touch. Nor did she really want him to anyway.
Nate took the pliers over to the box and stopped by the bag of fishing line and lures. “Oh, look what’s in here,” he said, pulling out the football that they’d used for family games in the yard. He backed away from them. “Hey, Robby! Can you catch?” He held up the ball. “Go long!”
Robby seemed torn between the game he loved so much and the fear of allowing Nate to interact with him. But he started to run, hands in the air, his eye on the ball as Nate let it go. The ball fell perfectly into Robby’s arms and he cradled it as he ran through the yard toward the house. Sydney couldn’t deny the similarities in interests between Robby and Nate. Her mind moved to Robby and his newly found love of drawing, the image of him on his belly in the grass with his notebook open, scribbling away, and a pang of trepidation shot through her.
“Nate’s a heck of a football player,” Uncle Hank called up to Robby as the little boy headed to the house.
Robby stopped and turned around to listen to Uncle Hank.
“He was a famous receiver in his time.” Uncle Hank reeled something in on his line. When he realized he’d pulled up a clump of seaweed, he dislodged it and threw it back into the water.
“Can you catch this then?” Robby called to him. He threw a pass to Nate, who caught it, the ball coming to a silent stop in his hand.
“Good throw!” he said, looking over at Sydney in surprise.
“I think Nate should come over and play a football game with us tomorrow,” Uncle Hank offered.
“Okay!” Sydney butted in, putting a hasty stop to the conversation. “Bath time. Ask Nana if she’ll get your water to a good temperature. I’ll be up in just a bit.”
“Okay…” Robby replied.
“I’ll go up and make sure he gets his bath,” Uncle Hank said, setting his rod down next to his tackle box, “if you two would bring these things up to the house for me when you’re done.”
“Thanks,” Sydney said.
“I’d love to play tomorrow, Robby!” Nate called up to the house.
Sydney’s pulse was throbbing in her ears. Nate had been awfully chatty with Robby despite what she knew about him never planning to have children. If he was using Robby to get Sydney to change her mind… He wouldn’t dare do that… She began to question even his hug earlier. As soon as her son was out of earshot, she stomped over to Nate. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped through gritted teeth.
“What do you mean?”
Nate’s look of innocence was infuriating. “Listen, you can come waltzing back here, throwing out lines about how sorry you are, trying to make amends for leaving everyone who loved you with barely a goodbye, and we’re all adults; we can handle it. But don’t you dare pull my son’s fragile emotions into this.”
“I…” Nate shook his head, stunned and obviously at a loss for words, but Sydney was so terrified at the possibility of her son getting hurt that she didn’t bother to decipher Nate’s feelings on the matter. “I just got caught up in the nostalgia and excitement of fishing here at Starlight Cottage again. I found that football and I wasn’t even thinking… I was just playing around. I miss this…”
“Well, Robby isn’t someone to play around with. And neither am I.” She grabbed the rods, collecting them all into her arms, her hands shaking as she shut the tackle box and secured the latch, picking it up. Then she snatched the football and shoved it into one of the bags, her arms full.
“Here, let me help you—”
“I’ve got it!” she barked, jerking away from him, all the fishing gear in her small arms. To her frustration, tears were surfacing again in her eyes, and she didn’t want him to see them. He’d crossed the line tonight.
