Page 79 of Crew
“They are,” I’d said, smiling at him in the rearview. “Big ones.”
“Do bears live on them?”
“Not the ones we’re driving past, no.”
He’d thought for a second. “But maybe moosees?”
Mallory shook her head, smiling. “I think moose like quieter places. But hey, you never know.”
I put the truck in park and stepped out, walking around to open the back door. “Let’s get you out of here, bud.”
He squirmed as I undid the five-point harness and helped him wriggle free.
Mallory came around from the other side, tugging their suitcases behind her. “Do you always park down here?”
“Yep. Keeps the truck out of the rain.”
She smiled, not saying anything more as we crossed to the elevator.
Inside, Grady peered up at the lights. “How many buttons can I push?”
“Just one,” I told him. “Unless you want to get stuck riding all afternoon.”
He giggled. “I wanna live in an elevator.”
“Let’s not,” Mallory suggested. “But you can help Crew push the number to his floor.”
I showed him which one was mine. Once we were at my door, Grady strode inside and stopped, eyes wide.
“Your house is so big.”
“It’s not that big.”
He turned slowly in a circle. “It’s taller than mine.”
Mallory came in behind him and closed the door. “This is nice, Crew.”
“Thanks. It’s still coming together.”
The furniture wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable and clean. Charcoal gray couch, wooden coffee table, TV mounted on the wall, a few photos tucked onto a bookshelf. Natural light poured through the tall windows, painting soft shadows across the floor.
Grady padded toward the windows, palms flat on the glass. “I can see the road! And that blue car! And that tree!”
While he checked out the view, I showed Mallory the two bedrooms and put their bags in the primary where she would sleep in my bed. We walked back into the living space. “Make yourself athome. I have water and drinks in the fridge. Snacks in the pantry. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“Thank you.” She helped herself to a bottle of water from the fridge and juice box for Grady.
I grinned and crossed to the closet, grabbing the glove and the foam ball I’d picked up last week. “Hey, G? Got something for you.”
He turned as I knelt and held it out. His eyes widened.
“Is that a baseball glove?”
“Yep. Your size. And the ball’s soft so we can play without worrying about breaking anything. Or getting hurt.”
He took the mitt and slipped it onto his hand. The leather was stiff and he couldn’t quite close it. “It’s kind of hard.”
“Gloves take time to break in,” I informed him. “You and I can do it together.”
