think you were real,” Heather said primly.
Brennan laughed. “Well, it’s nice to meet everyone. I’m Brennan. Thanks for letting me crash the party.”
“Whoa,” Devon said, eyes widening. “Your tattoos are cool. Are you in the motorcycle club, too?”
After that, the kids were off and running with questions—about Brennan, his job, his friends, his hobbies, and of course his tattoos. Brennan was so good with them, too, rolling up his sleeves to let them examine his tattoos, and pulling out his phone to show him pictures of the gym reno at the clubhouse. Once the kids had satisfied their curiosity with him, we settled down for another chapter of Lord of the Rings, except this time, Brennan read to the kids.
As he read to them, the kids were enraptured, as was I. But not by the narrative of the story. I couldn’t stop listening to the warm, rich tenor of his voice as he read, and staring at the broad line of his shoulders as he leaned forward in the stool. The kids were just as sucked in as I was.
I hadn’t prepared him for this at all, and here he was, sitting with the kids, reading with them, comfortable and kind and engaging like he did this as regularly as I did. And the kids liked him, too. I could tell.
When he finished reading the chapter, Anna and Devon immediately began having an excited imaginary swordfight. Brennan watched them, laughing, and then his gaze met mine. There was something soft and happy in his eyes, and he smiled warmly at me.
At the end of the visit, after lots of hugs and demands that Brennan come back, we left the cancer ward and headed downstairs to the cafeteria. The food wasn’t great, by any means, but it was part of my routine after seeing the kids, and I figured I’d give Brennan the whole experience. Plus, I knew the menu by heart, and I didn’t want to risk taking Brennan to a different restaurant and getting flustered by the menu.
We picked up our less-than-stellar sandwiches and less-than-hot coffee and slid into a booth in the cafeteria corner.
“So those are the kids,” I said with a grin. “Hope they didn’t annoy you too much.”
Brennan laughed and hooked his foot around my ankle beneath the table. The casual intimacy of the gesture made my heart flip.
“I loved it,” Brennan said with a big, genuine smile. “They’re funny. And smart. And you’re different around them.”
I cocked my head curiously. “What do you mean?”
Brennan’s expression softened. “I don’t know, you’re… sillier? A little sweeter? I like that version of you.” He shrugged. “You’re really good with them.”
“Lots of practice,” I said, trying to ignore the heat building in my cheeks.
“It’s more than that,” Brennan said. He took a sip of his coffee. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said, grateful for the change of topic. I didn’t know how to handle all of Brennan’s easy compliments. It was so unfamiliar, but so good, too.
“Can you tell me a little about Parker?” Brennan asked. “You don’t have to, obviously, it’s just…” He paused and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “He means a lot to you. What was he like?”
“Yeah.” I waited for the sudden swell of pain that usually accompanied Parker’s memory, but for some reason, it didn’t hit as hard. Not with Brennan’s foot still curled around my ankle. It was an ache, instead of the usual knife of grief.
Bearable. Having Brennan here made things bearable.
“He was funny,” I said with a smile. “He loved skateboarding, when he was up to it, and he was obsessed with his fish tank. He was really smart, too—he loved nature documentaries, and playing board games. Like Risk. Hard games. He always tried to get me to play, just because he liked to whoop my ass.”
Brennan laughed fondly and propped his chin in his hand. The watchful look in his eyes encouraged me to keep talking. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked so much about Parker. Not since his funeral.
“I really miss him. Every day. He was my whole life for so long, and even though everyone tried so hard—Parker, the doctors, the nurses, me—it still didn’t matter. He got more years than he might’ve, but. He was so young.” I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair, blinking hard to fight back the tears prickling behind my eyes. “It’s just not fair. That’s the thing that still gets me, even after all this time. It’s