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This kid was something else for eight years old. Talkative and kind and smart. As hard as it was to sit with him that day at the hospital, just a few weeks ago, it was now easy. Relaxing, even. “Not until I was twenty but I always wanted one. I do have a car and yes, I ride my bike in the cold.”

“Can I ride it?” He pushed open his door and I stared into the ultimate boy’s room. His bed showed his love of science and space, with a big swath of stars on it. But his walls were an eight-year-old’s fascination with sports, the walls plastered with baseball, football and hockey posters.

“I think we both know that’s up to your mom.” And I had a feeling she wouldn’t want her son on the back of motorcycle. And I didn’t blame her. “So what do you like to play with?”

Beau showed off his shelf of Legos, then talked and talked, which explained why Moon had warned the kid to let me get a few wo

rds in. He never ran out of breath. But I liked listening to him talk about his love of hockey—even though his asthma didn’t allow him to play sports—his fascination with going to space and finding new planets. His love of all things with wheels.

“Do you like sci-fi? Mom’s letting me watch Star Trek on Netflix.”

“Which one?” He shrugged and looked up at me with those big, all-seeing eyes.

“Do you have a family, Mr. Cross?”

“No Beau, I don’t. I had a wife but she got sick and died.” I hated even thinking about it and I couldn’t believe I just told that shit to a kid. This was why I wasn’t fit to be around kids.

His eyes went dark and I couldn’t read them, but then he said, “That sucks,” and it was like he could read my heart.

Damn. This kid had the soul of an old man. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Now tell me about that big stacks of books over there.”

He smiled at me and I knew it was the right question. Besides, being around Beau and Moon, especially now with all this shit swirling around inside of me and this fucking town, it made me feel a little less broken and scarred. A bit more normal.

For now, it was enough.

Chapter Sixteen

Moon

Days after Cross had joined us for dinner, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d overheard outside Beau’s room. He was a widower and from the sound of things, Cross still suffered from the loss. It explained the sadness I often saw in his eyes. Every time I thought about it, my heart broke for him all over again. And to top it all off, the way he talked to Beau about it, so matter of fact, was perfect.

So perfect that Beau hadn’t stopped talking about Cross since he left our house that night, which made it impossible to stop thinking about the man. And I really, really needed to. A few sessions of unbelievably amazing sex was no reason to start obsessing about a man, especially one with so much on his plate already.

I shook thoughts of Cross out of my mind as I pulled up in front of Beau’s school. Today was the last day of school which meant three months of me and my favorite guy hanging out and having fun. But first we had an important appointment with a new specialist.

Even though Beau was smarter than the average kid, I knew the time would come when he’d find hanging out with his mom boring and uncool. So I knew I had to savor every moment he still thought I was the best thing since chocolate pudding. My heart swelled and a smile spread across my face as I caught sight of his black hair flopping against his forehead.

“Hey buddy, how was your day?”

Beau climbed into the front seat and I immediately heard the wheezing and slight effort to breathe. He eased his backpack over the back seat and I knew he was having a bad day. No energy to bounce into the car, fling his backpack around, give me a high five and start his nonstop chatter.

He slumped back and fastened his seatbelt without a reminder. He wasn’t having a full-blown attack, just a routine struggle with asthma. I wanted to scream out to the heavens and pound the steering wheel but if he could deal with it without complaining, I could too.

“It was good, Mom.” He said the right words, but his tone told me otherwise.

“Are you upset about the specialist visit? If you are, don’t worry. This is just informational.”

Dr. Yang had recommended that we see a new doctor who used stem cells to treat certain asthma cases. I didn’t know a lot about stem cell treatments other than they were showing promise for patients with plenty of ailments, so I was cautiously hopeful.

“No Mom, it’s not that.” Well, it was something and the way his bottom lip poked out told me it was a serious something. I waited. Beau was male, albeit a young one, which meant he wouldn’t share his feelings until he was good and ready.

Waiting was easy once I merged into traffic and listened to NPR playing low inside the car. After fifteen minutes he pulled out a book and called my bluff. That was what happened when you had a kid too smart for basic parenting techniques. I let out a heavy sigh as I turned off the radio.

“You have to be the only kid on the planet who isn’t happy on the last day of school.”

He sighed and shoved his book into the side pocket of the door. “They want to put me in the fifth grade next year instead of fourth.”

It wasn’t all that shocking since his teacher and principal had been hinting at it all year, but I didn’t like that they’d gone behind my back to talk to my kid about it. “You don’t want to do that?”