Meet Me Halfway(52)

“There’s an amazing local organization that assists teenage mothers. I donate baby blankets to them.”

His jaw worked, and his eyes dropped to the blanket, watching my hands as I folded it up and carefully placed it in a canvas bag.

“It’s actually the kind of organization I’d like to work for, or even head, someday. Many teenage mothers turn to drugs or alcohol to cope with stress. A program dedicated to keeping them clean could do so much good.” I bit my lip, realizing I’d just told him something I hadn’t even told Layla or my family yet.

“Anyway, I’m behind on how many I usually make…” I trailed off, not sure why I was rambling about something he had no interest in. What grown man wanted to discuss crochet?

“I have never been so wrong about a person as I was about you,” he said.

I looked up, smiling, “I don’t know. If a rich, old guy offered to buy me a house in exchange for a few titty shots a month, I might say yes.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but his eyes darkened, dropping to the high collar of my blouse before coming back up. “Is that all it would take?”

My breathing quickened. He needed to stop looking at me that way. I didn’t know how to use my mouth or my fucking limbs when he looked at me like that.

I licked my lips, looking at the clock we had sitting by the television. “I mean, I’d also ask for my bills to be paid. As you know, I’d much rather go shopping and drink wine than have to work.”

His raspy chuckle caressed my skin, lighting me up from the inside out. He followed my gaze to the time and stood. “Shame. All I have to offer are cinnamon rolls.”

I watched him walk away, admiring the way his sweats shifted over his ass. “You didn’t even make them.”

He winked over his shoulder, pulling the door open, “And you didn’t get all the icing off your chin.”





Jamie hadn’t stopped talking since I picked him up after work, but I was soaking up every bit of it. As nice as it’d been to have a parental break for a night, I’d missed him.

“Did you know that rat poison is so effective because rodents are incapable of vomiting?”

“Huh. That makes sense I suppose.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of mean though. Did you know sloths sometimes mistake their arms as part of the tree and end up falling to their deaths?”

I darted a glance away from the road long enough to look back at him, but all I could see was his forehead hovering over the upheld animal book. “Is there a reason all these facts are about death?”

“Well, the next fact after the rats was about female koalas having more than one vagina, but I thought you’d appreciate the sloth one more.”

I blinked at the road. “Feel free to wash that out of my ears with a different fact, bud.”

“No, I think I’ll leave you with that one.” He giggled as we turned into our drive, but his laughter died when he jumped out of the Jeep and spotted Garrett to the right of us, leaning against his work truck with his phone to his ear.

The second Garrett saw Jamie, he uttered a quick, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up. “Hey, J-man, you have a good time at your grandparents’ house?”

I came around the vehicle in time to see Jamie kick at some loose gravel, his head down and arms wrapped tightly around his book. He couldn’t look more sheepish if he tried. “Yeah.”

It didn’t faze Garrett, and the way he smiled at my child made something stir in my middle, feeling a lot like indigestion.

Jamie opened his mouth. Closed it. Then repeated the action a second time. A determined expression crossed his face and he nodded, almost to himself. He handed his book to me and marched right up to our neighbor, extending his hand toward him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. My mom told me you’re her friend and were just trying to help her.”

Garrett’s face softened as he shook my child’s hand and leaned down, “Never, and I mean never, apologize for defending your mom. You were right to yell at me.”

I forced myself to stay silent and let them hash it out when I really wanted to butt in and give my opinion. Jamie looked so much older than his eight years as he stood there, looking a grown ass man in the eye.

“We good, J-man?”

He gave a serious nod, “I would be okay with being friends.”

“Yeah?” Garrett’s smile lit my heart, giving that indigestion feeling a hard squeeze.

“Yeah.” Jamie released his hand, stepping toward me to grab his book. “But only if you promise not to make her cry again.”

Garrett’s smile fell, his face turning to stone as he locked eyes with me. “I promise.”

His words drifted to my heart and prodded at it, seeking entrance. I hadn’t trusted a man in a long time. Trusting someone meant opening yourself up for hurt, and I’d done that enough to last me a lifetime. But I believed him, and the knowledge of that had me sweating under my skin.

“Cool. So, you wanna come to my soccer game next Sunday?”

I choked on a laugh, pressing my fingers against my eyelids. For as protective as the kid could be, he was also completely guileless.

Garrett’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and an amused grin formed on his lips. “If you play soccer even half as well as you play games, I’ll be there.”