Page 15 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
Eli peeks over the top of his book. “Do you break chairs?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But only the ones that talk back.”
That gets a little snort from Maeve. She tries to hide it, but I catch the edge of her mouth twitch.
I sit on the arm of the farthest chair, keeping distance but staying visible. “You guys okay?”
Maeve shrugs. “Are you the bodyguard?”
“One of three.”
“Do you have guns?”
I nod. “Lots.”
Eli’s eyes go wide. “Do youlikethem?”
“I like protecting people. Guns make it easier sometimes. But the best way to protect people is with your brain.”
He seems to chew on that.
Maeve narrows her eyes. “My mom says you were her friend a long time ago.”
“I was.”
“What happened?”
I meet her gaze, serious. “Life. We went different ways. But I never stopped caring.”
She stares for a beat too long, like she’s trying to read my soul. Then she nods and pulls her braid over one shoulder. “Okay.”
That’s it. Just okay. But it feels like a win in some weird way. Kids are complicated.
I glance at Eli. “What’re you reading?”
He flips the cover to show me.The Way of Kings.Kid’s got taste. And apparently an excellent vocabulary. The book is pretty grown-up for an eight-year-old.
“Epic stuff,” I say.
“I like space too,” he says quietly. “Like stars. The ones with stories.”
I smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
He looks up, and I see the same soft blue eyes as his mother.
Maeve hops up, pulling him by the arm. “We’re going outside.”
He scrambles after her, nearly tripping over his book. They disappear through the patio doors, and I watch them for a moment—two little blurs of motion under the California sun.
Jessica appears beside me with a smirk. “Not bad for a bear.”
I grunt. “I like kids. They don’t always like me. But I figured I should work on it, considering everything.”
She pats my arm. “That’s all anyone can do.”
I drift back upstairs and take the long way to the patio, following the sound of laughter. It’s light and loose, the kind that only happens when kids feel safe. When mothersmakethem feel that way.
The backyard is bigger than most parks. There’s a long rectangular pool in the center, flanked by palm trees and white lounge chairs that look expensive enough that I should be afraid to sit on them. A stone path winds toward a garden, and the back of the mansion is all glass and warm light.
