Page 103 of Grin and Bear It

“This might help,” he said, putting a coffee before me. I was reaching for all that hot milky goodness, without a thought, mumbling a thanks. “Might not be as good as Todd’s and I don’t have any muffins—”

“Muffins are in the Tupperware container in the fridge,” Tyson replied, only looking up when he caught the two of us staring. “What? I… couldn’t sleep last night so I baked.”

“Can we have one?” Knox said, perking up instantly.

“You just had ice cream.”

“So. Muffins aren’t the same as ice cream,” Knox shot back.

“Did you make those chocolate, macadamia ones with the dried apricot bits in it?” Maddox asked, his focus shot now too.

“Tell you what,” I said. “How about we get…” I looked at my watch. “An hour's work done and then I’ll lobby hard for you to get a muffin as well.” I winked at the suddenly hopeful look in the boys’ eyes. “Maybe two.”

“Two muffins for an hour’s work?” Cole grumped, all that easy good humour. “And ice cream. Jeez, my dads—”

“If you’re going to go with an ‘In my day…’ story,” I said in an exaggerated, creaky, voice. “Save it, old man.” I heard a surprised snort from behind me, and I was willing to bet it wasn’t Tyson. I charged on, even as I caught a dangerous gleam in Cole’s eyes. “Do you really hate working on your assignments like this, fellas?” I asked the twins.

“Oh my god, Miss, it suuucks…” Knox moaned.

“But you’re doing it anyway. If it takes a couple of muffins to sweeten the deal, let's just do that this once,” I told Cole. “I admit, I mainlined carbs and energy drinks through most of high school and all of university, just to get all my assignments completed. You can go back to your regularly scheduled sugar rationing after their assignments are done.”

“You kids are soft,” Cole complained, but his eyes twinkled when they met mine. “But fine. One muffin each after an hour’s work and no more. You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“He meant to say two,” I said to the boys with a smirk. “I know he did.”

“I’ll be in my studio,” Cole replied with a hiss of breath. “Come and see me when you’re done, Ellie, and I’ll give you a lift home.”

“Well, OK then.” I took off my watch and set the timer. “Let's smash out some work and then get those muffins. If Grumpy Mc Fartypants isn’t in the same room, then he can’t be the muffin police.”

“I’m so calling Cole that…” Knox muttered, but he actually smiled as he bent his head, working on his story.

And that’s when it got awkward.

In some ways, Tyson and I were the perfect team. He coached Maddox gently through his maths assignment, patiently explaining where the boy was going wrong and he was good, real good at that. Maddox took over quickly, seeming to apply everything his uncle had told him. And Knox was now in control of his narrative writing assignment. He was working on my edits, revising and re-drafting his work and a quiet fell over the room. I got it in class sometimes and I loved it, that flow state where kids stopped distracting each other or acting like dicks and just committed to doing the work. It wasn’t sustainable for long and they often needed a break afterwards, but it was a beautiful thing. But the two adults in the room then sat back, unneeded.

And drawn to each other.

I was trying to pretend like this wasn’t the boys’ home and that their uncles weren’t… what they were to me. I was trying to pretend that I didn’t feel Tyson staring. Eventually I had to look up, the man’s gaze feeling like it was burning into my skin and, when I did, time stopped for me too. Those golden eyes were like molten honey, and I wanted to drop right down into them. We were sitting opposite each other at the dinner table, the distance feeling immense and nothing at all, all at the same time. I watched his body shift as he leaned subtly closer, his hand sliding across the lace tablecloth. I eyed it with both fear and anticipation, my fingers tingling as if he was already touching me, while my eyes widened at the thought he would. I shook my head subtly, making clear what a bad idea this was when Maddox’s head jerked up.

“Done!”

“What? Was that an hour?” Knox glanced at the watch in the centre of the table and then frowned. “Fifteen minutes? Shit, Miss, can we make this shorter because—”

“No.” Tyson’s response was quietly implacable. “You committed to an hour, so let's get that done. Good job, Mads, for finishing that off, but you’ve got a few more questions—” He interrupted with a long groan “—Before the whole thing is done and you can submit it. It’ll be finished and you won’t have to worry about it.” Maddox nodded slowly, slumping back over his work and flicking to the next page of the assignment.

“What about you, Knox?” I asked the other twin. “Getting close? Look how much work you’ve done already.”

“I know…” he moaned. “Miss, it's hard.”

“But important. Hard but important. Not long until you get to introduce me to muffin heaven. Let's just get it done so we can move on,” I urged.

I watched a war be fought in Knox’s eyes. He was never the most diligent student, but he always had a go at every task set for him, the combination of having engaged, hands-on parents and a willingness on his part being what helped propel him along. But now one of those things had been taken away, and I could see him struggle to reconnect, recommit and I knew exactly how he felt.

I was well and truly smart enough to cope with all the different aspects of my life. It might sound weird, but it took a long time for me to be able to say that. I’d had so many comments from Mum, my teachers, other adults in my life, that implied there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t manage my time or schedule myself correctly. They always said that when I got the job that had been hanging over me done, I’d feel better. I didn’t. They said if I got into the right habits, it’d become automatic. It didn’t. It felt like every time I had something I didn’t enjoy on my slate, it was just one long shitty experience from start to finish and nothing helped me.

It never got better.

But that didn’t change anything. I still needed to function, perform and so did Knox, so I shot him a rueful smile.

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