Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (14 page)

“I wish I could lend you the money,” Porter’s voice draws me out of the funk, as my eyes flutter open, he pulls his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and his brown eyes stare at me full of concern. “We can start by using those booklets they gave you. Maybe it will drag out a word or two. He might not have anything interesting to say yet” He chews on his lip. “Sorry, I’m just saying stupid things to try to cheer you up.”

“And I appreciate it,” I tell him. “Thank you for coming with me, this was easier because I had you next to me.”

I blink a couple of times absorbing what I just said. Fuck. I am grateful, but confused about feeling safe with him. The entire situation is creating pandemonium inside my head. When I made the appointment, I was upset at Leo for leaving me to deal with everything all alone. Then grieving because I wouldn’t have anyone coming along and would face whatever they tell me alone. Finally, resigned to deal with it alone, I just casually made the comment during dinner and . . . he’s there by my side. Porter, the unlikely support that my son and I needed today.

“Thank you for letting me ride along,” he responds, opening the garage and pulling his truck inside.

Why would he do that, thank me for doing me a favor? Because we’re becoming friends? A few benefits should come from that title. Sharing information should be one of them.

Yes, Mackenzie, do it.

“If I ask you something . . . would you answer this time?” I bite my lip, fearing that he won’t answer.

“It depends,” he responds with a smooth, yet reserved voice.

“What happened to you?” Four words that carry so much force. Porter’s face hardens, as his jaw clenches.

His eyes darken; he pinches the bridge of his nose as his chest rises and lowers a couple of times. “We shouldn’t stay in the car for so long.”

That’s it? Where is my answer?

I want to ask him but he jumps out of the truck. Carrying Finn’s sleeping body, he heads to my house. Rushing behind them, I open the front door and follow him to the kids’ room where he places him on top of the bed, covers him with a blanket, and kisses the top of his head. As I’m about to ask him a question, he steps closer to me, looking down at me with a serious gaze. His mouth drops to the top of my head giving me a gentle kiss, and hugging me tight.

“He’s going to be okay. We’ll help him. I’ll . . .” He walks away as he releases me. “You’re going to be okay.”

His words confuse me, but I want to believe them. Trust that my son will come back to me. That we’re going to be fine. But how?

L
istening to the giggles coming from the swings fills my heart with happiness. It’s been a long time since they’ve been enjoying themselves this much. These evenings at the park, after dinner, are becoming part of our routine. Harper finishes her homework before setting the table just to ensure that we won’t cancel our trip to her favorite spot. Finn helps Porter dry the dishes after I’m done washing them. They both look forward to spending some time at the park climbing the slide and traversing the monkey bars. Finn has a new bike and he’s trying to keep up with his sister. Maybe soon he’ll be riding without the training wheels.

“Mom!” Harper calls out, getting off the swing and running toward me. “Can we play hide and seek? We can all take turns. You and I hide while Porter and Finn look for us, then we switch.”

It’s been years since we’ve played hide and seek. Usually, Harper would hide and I’d look for her around the house. Some days Leo would join us and I’d be looking all over for both. Finn was a baby. I don’t think we played much when he was old enough to hide with us. I look around the park, smiling, as I think back at the fun we had searching for the oddest places to hide.

“Maybe that’s something we should do at home,” I say, saving my reservations about the plan. Is it safe to hide in the park?

“Teaming up will help find one another,” Porter says with a playful grin. “Girls versus boys,” he says, helping Finn out of the swing. “You can start, because when it’s our turn, you won’t be able to find us. Right, sport?” He looks at Finn, who nods once.

“We’ll find you,” Harper says, tilting her chin up, indignation pouring with those words. “You can go first.”

Finn jumps happily, holding Porter’s hand. Porter smiles at Harper, and extends his hand. “You’re on, Harp. If you can’t find us, you get to dry the dishes tomorrow.”

“If I find you?” she narrows her gaze.

“We’ll set the table for you,” Porter responds, and with that, he jogs away, Finn right behind him. “Count to hundred before you search for us.”

“I found you,” Harper shouts, as she opens the door of the tree house. I’m sure the entire neighborhood is aware of her discovery. Finn plugs his ears, burying his head against Porter’s shoulder, who hugs him tight.

It took us a long time to find them. We walked around the entire park, searching behind the trees, trashcans and every place someone could use as a hiding spot. Harper almost gave up, but they were at the toddler playground inside the “treehouse” that’s not on top of the tree.

“Your giggle gave us away, sport.” Porter tickles Finn when they come out.

Harper opens her arms and walks to him. “I don’t want to play this game ever again.” Harper says, and Porter presses her toward his body with his free arm, giving me a lost stare. “I worried that I wouldn’t find Finn—or you.”

“Time to go back home, maybe buy ice cream on our way,” I offer, trying to cheer her up. She shakes her head.

“Slushies,” Porter counterparts. “You love them.”

She does. When we go to the gas station and head down to the convenience store to visit him, Harper begs for a small size slushy. She promises to behave for the rest of the day, but they’re empty promises that fall through as she’s on a sugar high after only taking a few sips of it.

“I like slushies,” she confirms, releasing her tight hold and giving me a smile.

My happy girl doesn’t return for the rest of the evening. She remains glued to Porter, who stays with us until they go to sleep.

“Thank you,” I tell him, as we walk down the stairs.

“Some days I miss my mother, too,” he says. “After losing a parent, the fear of losing someone else stays with you for a long time. I learned that during therapy—I was twenty-eight.”

“Patience and love,” I add, as if I guess he’s about to say that. He nods. “So where are you originally from?”

“Here and there,” he answers, his dark eyes looking sad. It’s nagging me to push him for more details; I just have to find the right question. “What part of Colorado are you from?”

I shake my head, huffing with frustration because he’s doing it again. Turning the conversation around and making it all about me. This time, I can do the same, switch it so it is all about him. “No, I’m from Charlotte.”

“North Carolina, right?” I nod. “I’ve been there once, boring city. Two days and I found nothing to do in town.”

“Impossible,” I retort. “There’s plenty, it’s all about looking for the right place.”

“No, the two nights I searched for a good night club, I couldn’t find any.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t know about the night life,” I slump my shoulders. “After graduating from high school, I moved to Colorado for college. My parents bought a condo in a retirement community in Florida and the only times we went back to Charlotte were to visit my mother-in-law.”

“Your parents retired early.” He cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Were you the baby of the house?”

“No, I’m an only child. My parents met when Mom was thirty-five and Dad was in his early fifties. At forty-two, my mother thought she was having signs of early menopause. Instead, she was having me.” I laugh remembering that my father always joked about being his early retirement present. He took a sabbatical to care for me when I was a baby, while Mom continued working. “Of course, they made sure I was their only ‘oops baby’. Not because they didn’t love me, but they were too old to have little ones.”

“I don’t blame them, you look like you were trouble back in the day,” he says, laughing. His guard is down and I enjoy this Porter. I’d give anything if he could stay like this all the time. “Imagine having more like you.”

“I did. When I was a child, I begged them to give me a little brother, or a sister.” Remembering those days are fun now, but back then, I wanted to scream at them for not giving me the only thing I wanted, someone to play with. They both had their careers and couldn’t imagine taking more time off from their schedule to tend to more than one child. “It was hard growing up alone with them. Most of the time they treated me like an adult instead of their child. But they’re loving, and at some point we understood each other.”

I abstain from telling him about the times I snuck out of the house to go to parties or went to my friend’s house to drink, because they wouldn’t let me have my own fun. They were afraid that I’d drink like the other kids my age. Which I did, and sometimes I smoked. I also smoked weed a couple of times. They held a tight grasp when it came to my social life. Thinking back, maybe my parents were the reason I looked into moving out of Charlotte for college. My dad wanted me to go to the same place he taught for decades. I couldn’t fathom the idea of being Dr. Grant Oliver’s daughter for four years. The same way I couldn’t imagine working while my children grew up under the care of some stranger.

“Sounds like a boring childhood, doesn’t it?” He nods. “We had our hobbies. Other than watching the Discovery channel and the History channel—hiking at Crowder’s Mountain Park was my favorite. They fed my love for nature; bought me a nice camera and I shot pictures of everything that I saw during our weekend hikes.”

“You miss them.” It’s not a question but a statement.

“Yeah, even though we talk often over the phone, I miss them,” I confess, looking down at the carpet.

The nostalgia for my parents isn’t the only thing that’s making me wonder about the past. Thinking about those years makes me wonder where I lost Mackenzie the woman with plans, goals, and dreams.

“Are you going to be okay?” I lift my gaze and he’s checking the time. “My shift starts in ten minutes. I’ll be back before you have to go to work.”

“Thank you,” I say, wanting to say much more, but not knowing the words that’ll express my gratitude. Instead, I touch his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes it back. “For everything.”