Healing Carson's Little - Izaia Winter Page 0,81

the search engine on my phone, I searched for local restaurants. Scrolling past the fast-food joints and the bigger chains, I stopped on the Mom-and-Pop shops. One by one, I clicked on the links until I found the one run by Macy and Greg Doran.

Snuggling Miller to my chest, I leaned back against the couch and dialed the number. Holding my phone to my ear, I used my other hand to stroke his back, hoping the sound of his Memaw’s voice would help push him into action.

They answered on the second ring.

“Hello, thank you for calling Macy’s Place. What can I do for you?”

Miller stilled as the young, perky voice sounded through the speaker, the hands that had been idly playing with my shirt freezing in place.

“Hi. My name is Carson Watts. I was hoping to speak to Macy Doran. Is she there by any chance?” I kept my tone polite and relaxed.

“Ummmm just a sec.”

The waitress obviously had no idea how to use the mute button on the phone as she walked through the restaurant and into a quiet office.

“Macy? Are you busy? There’s a man on the phone who says he wants to speak to you.”

“Well, who is it?”

Miller lifted his head from my chest and stared at the phone. A smile came quickly to his lips at the grouchy tone of the cranky, old woman, a new light appearing in his eyes.

“I don’t know. He said his last name was Watts, uh, Karl?”

Miller lifted a hand to his lips to hide his smile as I sighed.

Karl? Really?

“I don’t know any Karl Watts. What does he want?”

“I…uh… I forgot to ask”

“Oh, give me the phone, Mia!”

Click.

I chuckled as I imagined the annoyed look she was giving Mia as she realized I’d heard their entire conversation.

Click.

“Hello? Karl? Are you still there?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m still here.”

“Well, what do you want, Karl?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Actually, my name’s not Karl. It’s—”

Miller snatched the phone from my grip—having held out a lot longer than I had expected—and slapped it to his ear. “Memaw?”

“Miller? Miller, is that you, baby?” Her voice softened as she lost all of her hard edges.

“Yeah, Memaw. It’s me.”

And cue the waterworks on both sides. I relaxed back on the couch and cuddled my boy as he reunited with his Memaw, giving him all my strength.

“I could have killed my good-for-nothing son when I’d found out what he’d done. When are you coming home? I can’t wait to see you again. And I’ll make you your favorite pie. Oh, Greg! Greg! Get in here. You’ll never guess who’s on the phone. Here.”

Miller smiled and giggled as a man’s voice came through the speaker next.

“Jeez, woman, give a man a little warning next time. Well?” he asked. “Who is this?”

“Hey, Pops.”

“Miller? Is it really you, boy?” The shock in his voice couldn’t disguise his tears.

It was apparent, even to me, that his grandparents had missed him dearly.

And cue round two of the waterworks.

They finally let him go an hour later when he pinky-promised to call them the next day.

Taking my phone from his hand, I brushed my thumb against his tear-stained cheek. “Well? How are you feeling, little darling?”

He wrapped his arms around me and planted a big one right on my lips. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” I said, cupping his face. “What do you want to do about your parents?” I asked, now that we had ripped off the bandage.

“I think…” He looked at me, fear and determination in his eyes. “I think I wanna go home. I want to see my Memaw and Pops and… and maybe it’ll be easier if I’m face-to-face with them too.”

Them being his parents.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I replied, it never being a question if I was going with him or not. “When do you want to leave?”

“What?”

I sighed, seeing the panic in his eyes. Just a few seconds earlier, he’d been so fearless, but faced with the reality of actually going and he was once again an indecisive mess. My boy was nothing if not consistent.

“I’ll start packing.”

We flew into Richmond a week later.

I looked down and watched Miller as he slept against my shoulder with his blanket pillowed under his head and Sprinkles carefully hidden from view under the covers. It had been amusing watching Miller covertly remove the bunny from his carry-on bag and sneak her into hiding.

Miller had been a nervous wreck for days, and it wasn’t as if I could punish him into behaving.

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