“Okay, let’s play.” He looked at the women standing behind me. “Do you guys want to play with us, too?”
God, he was a gem, just like Sayer had told me. He was sweet, considerate, and so welcoming that I had no idea how anyone could have chosen drugs and abusive relationships over him. He was nothing but light.
Sayer’s soft voice floated over us as I moved to open the boxes of colorful blocks for him.
“Thank you, Hyde, but you should play with Zeb. He’s here just for you. He’s been waiting for a really long time to play with you.”
“Really?”
The wonder in his tone made my fingers twitch as my hands fought to curl into fists. How could such a wonderful child ever doubt his importance? It made me want to break things. Lots and lots of things.
“Really, buddy. It’s just me and you. Let’s make something awesome.”
“Cool!” His excitement was infectious as he flopped back down on his stomach on the rug in front of me. I folded myself into a sitting position on the floor in front of him and looked over at Sayer.
She had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were locked on us and I could see the same determination in those bright blue depths that I knew was shining out of mine.
Hyde was mine. He was going home with me and it didn’t matter what we had to do to make that happen.
This little boy would never, ever have to question if he was wanted again. He was more than wanted and the sooner I could tell him that the better.
CHAPTER 7
Sayer
I felt like I was watching my kid graduate or achieve some other major life accomplishment as Poppy walked out the front door of my house with Rowdy. She wasn’t a shut-in exactly, but it was close. Poppy would go to the grocery store or make a run to Target, but she never left to do anything fun. She definitely didn’t search out interaction with other people, especially people of the opposite sex, so the fact that she was voluntarily and eagerly going to have dinner with my brother one-on-one felt like a momentous occasion. I may have even gotten a little teary-eyed when Poppy told me she would be fine when I asked her if she wanted me to tag along just in case. It felt like her road to recovery was finally getting less steep. Regardless of the terrain, I was so happy that she had so many people willing to make the trip with her, and I wanted to hug my brother for being so amazing and refusing to give up on his childhood friend.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised when as soon as Rowdy and Poppy pulled out of the driveway my phone rang. It was Thursday night so I knew Salem would be hanging out with her tight-knit group of girlfriends and that an invitation to join them would be coming my way. I often tried to make sure I kept my Thursday nights free just for that purpose because I enjoyed spending time with Salem’s group of girlfriends very much. The young women were all colorful, funny, smart, and maybe, most admirably, they were all deeply in love and protective of the men that made up my little brother’s chosen family. They were also very kind and welcoming, never making me feel like the odd one out even though I knew I didn’t exactly fit in with the group.
While I could admire and appreciate the beautiful art that covered so much of their skin and could listen endlessly to the tales of motherhood and relationship trials and tribulations, it wasn’t anything I could relate to. I couldn’t even imagine how that kind of body modification would have gone over as I was growing up, and now, as an adult, I was so deeply entrenched in my professional world that I couldn’t see a place for it. Not to mention those kinds of permanent colors were terrifying to a person who was only brave enough to hide them on her toes and then cover them up with nude pumps.
I also had no clue what it took to raise a child while working or going to school full-time, to give of myself so fully to someone else while trying to still be successful and happy. To me, Salem and her friends were superwomen, and I was so lucky they included me and seemed to genuinely like me. It also tugged at my heart how they had all rallied around Poppy and tried to guide her gently, yet firmly back into life. Their concern and kindness went well beyond the fact that she was Salem’s sister and could be attributed to the fact that they were all simply amazing women who wanted another woman to heal and be healthy.
Then there was the way they were with their men. All of them, Salem included, had fallen for strong, difficult, complicated men. They all had spouses and lovers who took some work and yet they never complained or asked for anyone easier. I think that was what drew me to them the most. I couldn’t get enough of listening to the way they talked about the challenges and rewards they had in loving the men they did. It was beautiful. It was special. It was heartbreaking because I doubted that I would ever have someone be as passionate or as willing to fight for me through the chilly walls I had erected to keep myself safe and insulated for most of my life.
I thanked Salem for the invite but declined mostly because I didn’t want to do my hair or put on real pants to go out. We chitchatted for a few minutes and I could tell she was just as emotional and just as hopeful as I was that Poppy had not only left the house but had done so on her own with a man. We shared a moment of sappy love over how wonderful Rowdy was and I dropped a hint that was as subtle as a sledgehammer that my brother would make a wonderful father. She laughed but there was an extra sparkle in her voice even over the phone, and if I was the betting type I would put down good money that I would have a beautiful little niece or nephew to dote on in the near future.
When I hung up I was suddenly faced with a house that was far too quiet and a mind that was far too noisy. The idea of someone fighting for me, being passionate and invested in me, of course meant I started thinking about Zeb. If I had been infatuated with the man before, there was no stopping the precipitous and out-of-control slide of my feelings into something deeper, bigger, and more layered as I watched him get to know his son. Seeing the tender and careful way he handled the little boy was way too much for my heart and my ovaries to take.