Page 16 of Single Teddy
TEDDY
“How was school?” I looked at Bear in the rearview mirror, and he glanced at me before quietly turning to look out the window.
Worry knotted in my stomach, and I took big, deep breaths in an effort to soothe it. How badly could it have gone? Wesley hadn’t said anything, and I hadn’t received any calls while he was at school.
“How was Mr. Crawford?” This time, he didn’t even acknowledge my question. But I wasn’t giving up. “Did you make any friends?”
Bear put his elbow on the window and rested his head on his hand as if he were bored. Or fed up. Couldn’t blame the poor guy. He’d been through so much in such a short life. I couldn’t even imagine what the last few weeks had felt like for him.
“Buddy-Bear? Did something happen? Are you mad at me?”
He turned to me, opened his mouth, and I waited with bated breath for his next string of words, but they never came. He pressed his lips and leaned against his hand again.
“Are you hungry? Want to grab something to eat?”
He looked back at me and gave the smallest, gentlest, barely noticeable nod. I didn’t care. To me, that counted leaps and bounds, so I changed course, headed back into the town center, and parked. Then we walked along the Main Street until we came across a burger place named Big Buns, where all the staff were female in hotpants, with their cleavage prominently displayed, and ordered a double cheese and bacon burger meal for me and chicken nuggets with fries for Bear. It was an odd find on a small island like Mayberry Holm, and I couldn’t help but wonder how viable their business plan was.
His meal came with juice, a salad, and a dinosaur toy. As soon as we sat down, he pushed the salad away, snatched the dinosaur, and made it walk on the table while stuffing his mouth silly with french fries.
“Ew,” he muttered and spilled the fries right out.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, ignoring the mushy mess that spilled over the tray onto the table in front of him.
“Ketchup.” He grimaced.
“Oh. Right. I’m sorry.” I pushed my chair back and went to grab some ketchup and a bunch of napkins to clean up after him.
I really needed to start carrying baby wipes with me.
Bear completely ignored me when I returned to the table and poured a ton of sauce on his fries, but as soon as his food was “flavored,” he grabbed another handful and unceremoniouslyshoved it in his mouth. I bit my lip. Dinner time—or lunch time, or breakfast time—might be frustrating, but he was still too damn cute for his own good. Even when covered in blood-red sauce and acting as if I didn’t exist.
The chicken nuggets were equally drenched in sauce before he ate a couple of them, leaving the rest to go cold. When he was done, I led him to the restrooms so he could wash his hands before we returned to the lodge and retreated into the shared living room. Bear turned on the TV.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
He simply shrugged without turning away from the screen, and I sighed, sinking farther into the sofa.
I was in over my head. Way over my head.
Had he always been this distant and uncooperative, or had the events of the last few weeks changed his demeanor? Was this what Josie had dealt with every day?
I had no idea. If only I’d spent more time at home. If only I’d been there for him.
And her. Maybe she’d still be alive today if I had.
But it was no use trying to unscramble the eggs once they were done. These were the cards I’d been dealt, and I simply needed to play the game.
And boy, did I play the game.
And boy, did I lose the game, over and over and over again.
After five days in Mayberry Holm, Bear was still my biggest challenge. Bubble tea was easy to learn, as was learning to makethe coffees people occasionally asked for. Learning the ins and outs of the neighborhood, where everything was located, was a piece of cake, but Bear? Bear was like a wild animal in captivity. I never knew which version I would get.
Sometimes it was the mellow, quiet kid who looked adorable and was easy to be around.
Other times, it was tantrum-central over the simplest things and trying to understand and fix any problems was an impossible task.
The oddest things seemed to set him off. A door closing. A toy being misplaced. Me going to the bathroom.
