Page 46 of Until August
“Look. This is how a drunk sailor walks.” I laughed as Sage impersonated a drunk trying to keep his balance on the planks. Then he darted ahead, and I strode after him. Stopping behind him, I placed my hands on his shoulders.
“Hi, Captain!” Sage shouted and waved to a man hosing down his boat.
The man turned to look at Sage. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and round, blue-tinted sunglasses. His long hair was more gray than brown, and his skin was so tan it looked muddy. “Hi, matey,” he growled as he stepped onto the dock and gave me a once-over. “Who’ve you got here?”
“He’s…” Sage looked up at me, trying to decide on the right word. Then, finally, he bit his lip and averted his gaze. “My dad,” he said, his voice low, his eyes dropping to the ground.
Those words would typically have filled me with pride, but how he’d said them left me unsettled.
“You don’t say,” the man said, looking me up and down. “Sam.” He extended his hand, and I took a step forward and shook it. “August.”
Sam nodded, then turned his attention to Sage. “Enjoy your time with your dad, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Sage mumbled, walking ahead of me, with his eyes on the ground as he scuffed his feet.
He was quiet as we walked past the speedboats and yachts docked at the marina, and for someone who had claimed to love boats, he didn’t even glance their way.
I put my hand on his shoulder so he would stop walking, but he averted his head, refusing to even look at me. I crouched in front of him where I could see his face better. “I’m so sorry, Sage. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long.”
He shrugged one thin shoulder. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. Nothing about this was even remotely okay. “Sometimes adults make bad decisions and do things they regret. I didn’t want to leave you. If I’d had the choice, I would have stayed. I would have been there—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He pulled away from me and stomped away.
With a sigh, I scrubbed my hand over my face and got to my feet. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, and I didn’t blame Sage for being angry. But I was the adult, so it was my job to fix things and make them better.
“How about we go for those tacos now?” It was the best I could come up with.
* * *
While we ate tacos at a tall table overlooking the water, Sage was silent. His face was troubled, and I wished I could read his mind and figure out what to say or how to make this better for him.
My actions had consequences, and I thought going to prison was the price I’d paid. I’d served my time and paid my debts. But I was wrong. Prison was a cakewalk compared to witnessing the hurt I’d caused Sage.
How could I expect a seven-year-old to come to terms with something like this?
It had never been more apparent than right this minute just how much I’d fucked up and how it must have affected him.
I watched him play with his food, and then he pushed the plate away. Supposedly, tacos were his favorite, but he’d left half of his plate uneaten. “You’re not hungry?”
He shrugged and stared at his plate while I wracked my brain, trying to find the right words to fix this. But I didn’t have any magic words. So I did what any desperate parent would do. “Do you still like ice cream?”
His eyes snapped to mine, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Iloveice cream.”
I chuckled, happy to see that smile, even if it was for ice cream and had nothing to do with me. “How about we go get some ice cream?”
“I haven’t finished my dinner yet,” he said, his mouth turning down at the corners as his eyes dropped to his plate.
“Do you want to finish it?” Pretty sure that wasn’t what they’d teach you in Parenting 101 but fuck it. I only had him for two hours. I’d do just about anything to make him happy.
He shook his head. “No. But there’s no dessert unless I eat dinner.”
“Hmm. I see your problem. How about just this once we break the rules.” I stopped short of saying it would be our little secret because shit like that, even if it seemed like something small and inconsequential, messed with kids’ heads. That much I knew.
His smile grew wide. “Okay.” He didn’t need any convincing. He jumped off his stool, ready to go.
I signaled for the check, and we walked back to my truck after I paid.
