“Maybe not, honey, but you sound it.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll let you go after you tell me if you took care of our kid.”
“All good,” I said softly. “Bottle of ibuprofen, kid’s multi-vitamins and some Neosporin. The other stuff I told you I’d do yesterday. Some more food to keep him stocked up. Another note telling him how to use the ointment and to get a wash if he can.”
“You don’t need me to pop ‘round the store to pick anything up?”
“No, honey.”
“All right, baby. Now go back to sleep.”
“Chace?”
“Yeah?”
“In the note, I told him a little bit about you. Just who you are, that you’re cool, he has nothing to worry about and you’re helping me look out for him. Was that okay?”
“Yeah, Faye. That’s fine. Go back to sleep.”
I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I wanted to talk to him until the earth started revolving around the moon.
I didn’t tell him that.
I said, “’Kay.”
“See you later, honey.”
“Later, Chace.”
He disconnected.
I beeped off my phone.
I didn’t think I could get back to sleep.
But I did.
* * * * *
Eight thirty-two that same morning
My eyes on the return bin, Chace’s coffee on my dash, mine in my hand, my car parked on the street, I waited for the boy and Chace.
I’d texted him to say coffee was my treat. He’d texted back to give me his order and tell me he’d pay me back when he got to my Cherokee. I texted him back and asked him if he knew what “my treat” meant. He texted me back with, Baby, I’ll give you money when I get to your SUV.
These were simple words on a phone display but I still could read the tone.
My text back was, Oh, all right.
I expected that would be the end but I got a one word reply.
Cute.
God, Chace Keaton was fraking awesome.
My cell rang. I pulled it out of my purse and saw the display said, “Chace Calling”.