Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)(15)

“A bathroom?” he answered sarcastically.

I was not amused. “Clean this up—now.” I stalked off into the master bedroom, which was still decorated in pink rose wallpaper, and I began stripping off my shoes and shorts. Walking into the adjoining bathroom, I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and stepped into the spray, letting it pound against my aching muscles, as I waited for my anger to abate.

It was just a mess, not the end of the world.

I braced myself against the shower wall as memories of my little boy came rushing in. I could see him stacking little wooden blocks in neat piles.

“Why do you do that?” I’d asked as I watched him organize his toys.

“Because I like to know where all my favorite things are,” he’d answered matter-of-factly.

He’d been the neat and tidy one. I’d been the envy of every parent around because the words, Clean your room, never had to be said in our house. His room had been as neat as a pin. He might have been borderline OCD maybe, but my little boy was very particular.

It was no longer like that.

And he wasn’t my little boy anymore—or at least he was trying desperately not to be.

This growing-up thing was driving me into an early grave, and it was ten times harder going through it all alone.

I quickly finished showering and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before heading downstairs.

This was our first Saturday night in our new home in a brand-new city. I should have planned something.

Instead, I was boiling water for mac and cheese and flipping through the channels, looking for a movie we could watch.

I’d get my shit together next week. After I got settled into my new firm and had a few more boxes unpacked, we’d properly introduce ourselves to the city we’d adopted as home.

For tonight, it looked like comic book characters would be our entertainment.

“Hey, Noah, The Avengers is on!”

That one sentence managed to get him downstairs quicker than anything I’d said in days.

As he settled into the sofa, completely immersed in what was going on in front of him, I shook my head and walked back to the kitchen to assemble our meal.

“Guess I did something right,” I mumbled, feeling proud I’d stuck to my guns and never allowed a TV in his room.

If I had, he’d have no reason to come down here, except to eat. At least I could hold The Avengers over his head, so I could manage to squeeze a few hours in with him even if no talking was involved.

After finishing up in the kitchen, I handed him a large bowl of mac and cheese, and we both dug in. Once we were both equally stuffed, I returned the empty dishes to the sink and began to load them into the dishwasher.

“Hey, Noah, can I get you to take out the trash?” I asked, poking my head out of the kitchen.

“Do I have to?” he whined, his eyes never leaving the TV.

“Would I be asking otherwise?”

He huffed and pressed the pause button on the DVR remote before shuffling his feet all the way to the trash can. After several more frustrated puffs of air, I heard him shuffle out the back door.

Finishing the dishes, I dried my hands and shook my head. Oh, the woes of being a child.

I took the few seconds of quiet time to quickly check my email and go over my agenda for Monday. Although the first reason we had moved up to Richmond was because my grandmother had left this house to me in her will, the second reason was the number of job opportunities awaiting me here.

We had moved from Charleston, South Carolina. It was a fairly large area, and since passing the bar after law school, I’d had a great job there, working as an attorney. But I had itched for more, and I’d felt like I was suffocating. I’d wanted something bigger and better. Being from an area where everyone had known my name since before I was born, there had seemed to be this unwritten hierarchy to how life worked—you had to pay your dues, honor your superiors, and wait your turn. Hard work paid off. That was what my parents had always taught me. Then, somewhere along the way, I’d discovered it didn’t always work that way.

During my senior year, my best friend had managed to land the coveted scholarship to one of the top schools. Maybe it was a coincidence that he was also the football coach’s son, but when putting the two of us side by side, I’d beat him every time. Last year, I had been up for a major promotion, and I’d watched as it was handed to one of the cousins of a judge from a few counties over. That was probably another coincidence.

I was sure coincidences like that happened everywhere, in every county and every walk of life, but I wouldn’t be the same person after moving outside of Charleston. Here, I wasn’t the son of Mr. and Mrs. Reid, and I wasn’t the guy who had gotten screwed over by the one girl everyone had warned him to stay away from.

In Richmond, I was a blank slate.

It was exactly what I needed.

I just hoped it would be what Noah needed as well.

I looked up from the papers on my desk and found the couch empty and the TV still paused.

How long did it take for one child to take out the trash?

After walking toward the back door, I turned the knob and stuck my head out, looking for signs of Noah. The faint sounds of laughter whispered through the wind, and I immediately perked up, stepping outside as my eyes danced around the backyard.

I snuck around the edge of the house and then came to an abrupt halt. Under the cover of night, Noah and Liv were huddled together. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her face, illuminating her smile, as she looked down at my son.