Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(86)
His excitement is infectious and I find myself smiling like a kid when I step forward to pay for our wristbands. “Okay, Max, here are the rules.” His wide eyes are bouncing around the museum as he hops from foot to foot. I snap my fingers and he looks at me, though I can tell there about a million other things he’d rather be looking at. “I have to know where you are at all times, okay?” He nods enthusiastically. “You don’t run off without telling me, and if a stranger tries to grab you, I want you to kick and scream as loud as you can.”
His movements still and he looks at me, shocked. “Is a stranger going to grab me?”
“No, but—”
“Because I don’t want to get stolen!” The look on his face is priceless, and for a split second I feel bad for scaring the little fart.
“If you stay by me and I know where you are, nothing will happen. Got it?”
“Got it. Now can we go ride that slide?” he says, yanking my arm as he runs for the stairs. “Look at that!” he hollers, pointing to the ceiling, where a bunch of kids are climbing in a hanging tunnel. “Do I get to do that too?” he asks hopefully as his little legs plow up the steps.
“Whatever you want, little dude, we have all day.” He looks at me and grins, his face flushed with exhilaration. We finally make it to the top of the slide and he lets out a loud ‘WHOOP’ as he sends himself flying down the three-story slide.
Three hours later I’m exhausted, hungry, and fairly certain that I may have pulled a muscle in my groin. Note to self: I’m no longer a kid. Max, on the other hand, seems to just be getting started. This kid has run, jumped, climbed, ridden, and slid up and down this entire museum a hundred times, and he’s still jumping on his toes, begging for more.
“Let’s get a bite to eat, and then we’ll play some more,” I say, desperate to sit down for a couple of minutes. He reluctantly agrees and we head over to the mezzanine to grab some grub.
“What’s your favorite thing at the museum?” I ask, shoving a bite of pizza into my mouth.
“Ummm…” He taps a finger against his chin and then his excited eyes go soft. “The skatepark. I like the skate park.”
I nod, elated that we share the same favorite part. “Me too,” I say. “What do you like about it? Do you like running up the ramps, or sliding down them?”
He takes a long sip of soda and then shrugs nonchalantly. “Neither. I like it ‘cause Mom told me my dad use to skate.” My hand stills on its way to my mouth. His words are completely unexpected and I’m not really sure how to respond. Maybe Harley told him a little white lie about the piece-of-shit dad he will never know. I wouldn’t blame her…of course she would want her son to have some good memories of his father.
“Did he rollerblade?” I ask hesitantly, unsure how far I should push this.
He pops a piece of pepperoni into his mouth. “Nope. Skateboard.” I smile softly at him, thankful that he doesn’t seem upset about the shift in our conversation.
“My brother and I use to skateboard. That’s why I love the skate park here. It reminds me of him.”
“Were you any good?”
“No,” I snicker, remembering how many times I fell before I could even stand up on one. “But my brother was. Dallas could do all sorts of cool stuff on his skateboard.”
Max’s jaw drops and he lets his slice of pizza fall to the table. “That’s my dad’s name!” He eagerly scoots forward in his seat. “How cool is that?”
I stare at him in shock for a few seconds, his words repeating in my head. That’s my dad’s name. What does he mean, that’s his dad’s name? My skin heats with frustration, blood rushing through my ears, and suddenly I’m finding it hard to breathe. Harley assured me that she didn’t know who Max’s father was…was she lying to me? Was she really attacked? Did her and Dallas have an affair, or is she just using Dallas—since he’s deceased—to give Max a father? A growl threatens to rip up my throat, but I fight it back, desperate to keep Max from seeing my reaction. I rub a hand roughly over my face, digging my thumb into my eyes. Pushing back from the table, I stand abruptly and snake my hand out to stop our sodas from tipping over when the table shakes.
“Are you okay, Ty?” Max asks, his head cocked to the side.
“Yeah,” I wave him off, my mouth going dry. My arms feel heavy when I pick up our plates and toss them in the trash. “Let’s go play some more.” He smiles at me and starts skipping off toward the skateless park without a clue that he just set off a spark that will more than likely explode into a full-on firestorm.
“SO HOW DO YOU think Tyson did with Max today?” Avery asks, shrugging out of her lab coat. “Do you think he survived?” We both laugh and I pull my phone out of my pocket, surprised that there isn’t a missed call or text from Ty. I was certain he would let me know how his day went, or at least give me a call when they were on their way home. I smile to myself at the thought that maybe they’re having so much fun that they lost track of time.
“I’m fairly certain that Ty will pass out as soon as he hits a bed tonight,” I say, tossing my stethoscope into my satchel. I heave the strap over my shoulder and then Avery and I make our way out of the hospital. “He had absolutely no idea what he got himself into.”