Page 21 of Savage

I was about to dart inside when I felt a small body slam into mine.

I looked down and found a pair of crystal blue eyes staring up at me. The kid was four or five with whitish-blond hair that reminded me of the pictures I’d seen of my dad when he was a kid. He was holding an ice cream cone that was now smeared into my jeans. "Whoa! Easy there, kid!”

The boy's lopsided grin faltered as he looked at the mess he had made. “Oh, I’m swo-ry.”

“It’s all good.” I’d never laid eyes on him before, but there was something familiar about him—like I should’ve known him. But I didn’t. I had no idea who he was. “You got a name, kid?”

“Dalton.”

“Good to meet ya, Dalton. I’m Malcomb.”

“You’re wer-weally tall.”

“Compared to you, I am.” I glanced down at the cone in his hand and was surprised when I noticed that the ice cream was green. It wasn’t a common flavor, especially for kids, so I had to ask, “Is that pistachio?”

“Hm-hmm,” he answered. “It’s my fav-rit.”

“It’s my favorite, too.” I motioned my hand over to the front door of the ice cream shop as I told him, “Why don’t I grab us both another one?”

The boy's face lit up, and he nodded eagerly, taking my hand as we started over to the ice cream shop. We didn’t get far when the door flew open and Londyn’s mother came rushing out. “Dalton?”

“Here I am.”

“Oh, my heavens! You scared me to death!” She rushed over and took the kid’s hand as she scolded, “I told you to wait beside me!”

“Hello, Mrs. Hollings.”

“Hi, Malcomb.” She looked a bit shaken as she said, “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. It’s been a while.” I glanced down at the kid and chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“I certainly do.” She brushed the kid’s hair out of his face, then looked over at his cone and gasped when she noticed that the top of it was gone. “What did you do?”

I pointed to my jeans and chuckled. “We had a bit of a mishap.”

“Oh, no!” An embarrassed blush crept over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Malcomb.”

“Don’t be. It was just a fluke.” I pointed over to the ice cream shop as I told her, “I was just about to buy him another.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.”

“But...” the boy protested.

“We have to get back home.” Mrs. Hollings started tugging him towards her car as she told him, “We’re already late.”

“Maybe next time, kid.”

“Thank you, Malcomb!” Mrs. Hollings continued towards her car as she shouted, “Tell your mother I said hello!”

“Will do.”

I watched as she helped him into the backseat, then rushed around to get into the driver’s seat. After a quick wave, she whipped out of the parking spot and sped away. I found our interaction a bit odd, but with Hagley’s closing soon, I didn’t have time to think much about it. I brushed off the remaining ice cream, then turned and rushed inside the men’s clothing store.

Mr. Hagley was sitting in his favorite chair with his feet propped up and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was at least ninety, frail and wrinkled, but he still had his wits about him. He knew me the second I walked in. “Well, there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Hey there, Mr. Hagley. How’s it going?”

“I can’t complain.” He leaned forward, using his own weight to help pull himself from the chair, then wobbled over to me. “I take it you’re here to try on the suit your mother picked out.”

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