Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(68)

"You're an arrogant ass."

"Yeah, I know. And you're a pain in the ass. We're a perfect pair."

We settled back into bed, enjoying the last few minutes of morning, before we heard some rustling, and then the door across the hall opened. The guest bathroom door creaked and shut, and that was our announcement that Connor was up.

"Time to make us men some breakfast," Declan said with a wolfish grin, rising out of bed to get dressed.

I took a few moments to admire the view, loving the way his ass looked as he slid back into his pajama bottoms. He slipped on a shirt, turned, planted a quick kiss on my lips, and went to go find Connor.

After slipping into a robe and fuzzy slippers, I entered the living room, and I heard them talking. They'd pulled out the Xbox that Declan had bought for this very weekend, and they were currently trying to blow up aliens. They laughed, and explosions boomed through the speakers.

I made some coffee and started the griddle for pancakes. A few days earlier, I'd picked up everything to make them from scratch. I wanted to make Connor a special breakfast while he was here. I knew Sarah probably had done all sorts of special things for him, but it was the first time we had him with us, and I wanted it to be perfect —for both of them.

A few minutes later, bacon was sizzling, and pancakes were cooking. I got out butter and maple syrup and set the table. I piled a plate high with chocolate chip pancakes, my favorite, and then I sandwiched the bacon between layers of paper towels to soak up the extra grease.

"Okay, boys, come and get it. The food is ready!"

They'd been so involved with their game that I didn't think they had even realized I'd been cooking. It was an adorable sight, seeing them huddled together on the living room floor, playing video games in their PJs.

But as soon as I'd said food, they were up and running. Declan snagged a piece of bacon from the plate as he sat down, and I scolded him as I poured orange juice. When I went to grab myself another cup of coffee, I realized then that Connor hadn't taken a seat. I turned and saw him frozen in the kitchen, staring at the plate of pancakes, like they were infested with maggots or something equally hideous.

"Connor, what is it?" I asked, rushing to his side.

"My mom used to...I hate pancakes!" he shouted, running from the room.

The guest bedroom door slammed, and I looked up, locking eyes with Declan.

"What did I do?" I asked, feeling the tears stinging my eyes.

He came to me and pulled me into his arms. "You didn't do anything. Let me go talk to him, okay?"

"I just...I didn't know."

"How could you, Leah? We are going into this blind. We are learning as we go, and we can do this one day at a time. Just think about everything we've accomplished with him so far. He's still recovering, and we're going to have setbacks."

"Please tell him I'm sorry," I begged.

"He knows. He's not mad at you. He's mad at the universe. Someone was taken away from him, and he doesn't understand why."

I nodded, and he gave me one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the guest room. I watched him walk away, and it was the first time I saw him truly as a father. I didn't know how to be a parent.

Could I be the woman he needed me to be?

~Declan~

I knocked on the door and took a step in. Connor was curled into a ball on the large bed, reminding me of how young he really was. He put on a bold front, acted tough and aloof, but he really was only seven. He was a second grader who had lost his mom on the way to visit a family friend. He was only a child who had to leave his entire life behind to move to another state while he wondered why his mommy was never coming back.

"Hey," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

He didn't say anything, but I could hear sniffling, indicating he was crying. His head was buried into his knees, and he had his arms wrapped firmly around his legs. I remembered taking this same position on several occasions when I had been his age and older.

"I remember your mom used to make the best pancakes. Blueberry, right?"

His head shot up, and his face was red and splotchy. There were marks from fresh tears, and his flannel pajama bottoms were wet from where they had soaked up other tears.

"Whenever I'd have a bad day, she'd always say, 'Why don't I make you pancakes?'" I looked into the eyes of a child I hadn't known existed, but somehow, I felt like I'd loved him his entire life despite it. How else could I possibly describe the depth of love I felt for him?

"She used to make me birthday pancakes, and she'd stick a candle in the stack. She'd tell me to make a wish...I should have wished for her."

My heart nearly exploded as he launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around my torso, as he sobbed. I pulled him in tight and gently rubbed his back.

"You couldn't have known. And you can't let your happy memories of your mom be ruined because of what happened. She wouldn't want it that way."

"But how do I remember the good stuff when it hurts?"

"You take it one memory at a time, one day at a time. But if you stopped doing all the fun stuff you and your mom did together, you'd miss out on a great life."

"Does Leah hate me now?" Connor asked, still leaning on my shoulder. He crumpled up his Iron Man T-shirt and wiped off his eyes. They were still red and puffy, but at least, they were dry now.