Page 152 of Beat of Love
Connor acted cool as he accepted the gift, but that morphed into outright exhilaration when he extracted the bulky box. Clutching the sides he stared at the image for a moment. “Wow. Oh, wow.”
“What you got, Onna?”
Connor turned the package so his sister could see the front. “It’s a remote-controlled car,” he whispered with awe.
“That nice,” she replied, rubbing her cheek against the penguin’s fur.
Rafferty stifled a laugh. The dubiousness in her voice belied her reply.
Placing his gift on the bench, Connor turned to Rafferty. “I’ve wanted one forever and ever.” His “thank you” was muffled when he threw his arms around Rafferty and buried his face against his chest. Rafferty rubbed across the boy’s bony shoulders and figured he owed the shopkeeper from Books and Bakes big time.
Connor pulled away and ran a reverent hand across the box. “Will you help me with it later?”
Mrs. Bronson, bless her heartless soul, chirped up, “Mr. Lawson won’t be going back with you, Connor.”
The boy's eyes brimmed with worry as he met Rafferty’s gaze. “You’re not staying with us?”
Rafferty turned a searing glare on Mrs. Bronson, a silent promise of retribution, then softened as he faced Connor again. “Not yet, buddy. But soon.”
Connor’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He dropped his head, shoulders locked tight, and scuffed his boot hard against the dirt. “But Mom said,” he muttered, low and tense.
Something in the kid’s voice and the stiff set of his shoulders triggered Rafferty’s instincts. He wasn’t used to dealing with kids, but human response?
Thathe was trained for.
And this wasn’t just disappointment.
There was something else working under the surface with Connor.
Something that didn’t sit right with him.
Cut the kid some slack. His entire life just got upended.
Rafferty shoved the worry aside. There were enough known problems to tackle. “Soon, Connor. I promise.” He lifted the boy’s stubborn chin with his finger. “We just need to work out a few details. Some legal stuff with Mrs. Bronson. Until then you’ll be staying with your friend. Okay?”
Connor’s sigh was one of resigned exasperation. “I guess.”
“In the meantime, how about we see what yummy things are in the basket?”
“Okay.”
“Wanna help me unpack?”
Connor nodded and moved to the opposite side of the table. Standing on the bench, the boy reached into the basket and emptied the contents.
And Rafferty entered an alternate reality.
Sinead claimed his thigh as a perch, jabbering away so fast he couldn’t keep up. She wriggled as much as she talked, andhe found keeping his forearm around her body the only way to anchor her in place while Connor set a variety of items on the paper plate before them. Sliced apple, a handful of blueberries, diced cheese, quartered peanut butter sandwiches, and two kiddie-sized apple juice boxes.
She had taken it upon herself to feed him, and tilting his head down to accept the slice of apple she held up to him, Rafferty caught a whiff of fresh powder and sunshine mixed with apple, and inhaled deeply.
Something warm and heavy settled in his chest. And he understood that he would forever associate that smell with this bittersweet moment when he, bad-boy prodigal, morphed into a dad. Without even thinking, he squeezed a little tighter and dropped a light kiss on the top of Sinead’s sun-warmed head.
When Rafferty lifted his head, it was to look right into the eyes of the solemn boy across from him. Approval and relief shone in Connor’s gaze, and as much as that profound and unexpected trust heartened him, it also saddened him that a child so young carried such heavy burdens.
Which reminded him …
“Tell me about your special hiding place, Connor.”
