Page 18 of Make Me Yours
“Smart.” I nodded.
“There have been times when it didn’t feel so smart—like when rushing into a burning building in the middle of the night , not knowing if I’d make it out again.”
“That must have been a crazy way to grow up—so fast and with such responsibility.”
“Sort of. But it was all I knew. I had a choice. I could rebel and go the path of some of my friends—get into drugs, parties and girls—but I knew if I did, that’d make me no better than my own father, or Grace’s.”
Cohen’s strength and character continued to impress me. I watched him maneuver through the Chicago traffic with ease, smartly navigating the Jeep into the fastest moving lanes and dodging backups like he was quite used to driving these highways. It was impressive to watch. I rarely drove, and being from a small town, the Chicago highway system still scared me.
Soon, we were stopping in front of a tiny brick house with a patchy yellow lawn.
“Home sweet home,” he said, putting the Jeep into park.
Before we were even out of the car, a little girl with messy blonde hair was running through the yard toward us. Cohen unlatched the back of the Jeep, releasing the restraint that held a very excited Labradoodle in place.
“Boo Boo!” she called and Bob happily darted toward her. She fell back onto the lawn under the weight of the dog and giggled while he lapped wet kisses all over her cheeks.
“Boo Boo?” I cocked an eyebrow at Cohen.
“Don’t ask. I’m not calling a damn dog Boo Boo. I changed it to Bob.”
Bob continued slobbering all over the little girl for several minutes and I couldn’t help but laugh. Eventually, Grace extricated herself from the dog and ran over to stand in front of us, her eyes wide and curious.
“This is my sister…um…” Cohen hesitated, scratching his head. “What’s your name again?”
“Grace!” she shouted, shoving against his stomach with all her might. He didn’t even budge.
Her grin couldn’t be dampened though and she threw her arms around his waist, hugging him with abandon. I’d grown up with a brother two years older. I didn’t recall being that excited to see him. Ever. It was sweet. Cohen leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Come on, short stuff.” She clucked to Bob, who stood and dutifully followed her. It was clear both the dog and her big brother adored her.
“This is my friend, Liz,” Cohen introduced me to his mom and sister when we reached the front porch.
His mom was shockingly young and pretty with high cheekbones, and big blue eyes. She was a thin bottle-blonde, dressed in a modest coral-colored dress. She gave me a suspicious glance before shaking my hand. Clearly she was nervous about her son bringing a girl home.
“Hi, I’m Liz.”
“Denise,” she offered.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I was usually good with parents, but the way she’d already noted my too-long unruly hair, full C’s and her son’s interest in me. We were off on the wrong foot.
But luckily, after getting Bob settled inside the house, we set off for church.
The service wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to church, but I was pleasantly surprised—not that I was ready to make it a regular habit. But there was something comforting about the church itself, and it was nice sitting next to Cohen, especially when he placed his hand on my knee and squeezed after we sat down.
The young pastor delivered a message about the possibility of God being a woman. I’d leaned forward in my seat, along with Cohen’s mom and sister, who were clearly intrigued by the idea. Even Cohen’s expression was one of genuine interest. I couldn’t help but notice and appreciate the fact that having been raised by a single mom, he had strong and healthy relationships with the women in his life.
After the service, Cohen’s mom led us to the front of the church. “There’s a really nice girl I want to introduce you to. Pete and Margaret’s daughter.”
“Do you mind?” Cohen leaned down to whisper in my ear.
I shook my head quickly, watching as his mother pursed her lips.
“Sure,” he said.
She led the way over to a petite girl standing alone at the front of the church.
“This is Maggie,” Cohen’s mother beamed proudly, urging her son forward by placing her hand in between his shoulder blades and giving him a firm push.
“Hey.” Cohen offered her his dazzling smile.
