that comes out of me forms so deep in my chest, it’s a relief to get it out.
“Yes, bud?”
“Can I show you my room?” He’s already starting to get out of his chair.
“Maybe after lunch?” Mia tells him, pulling him back down.
Benny’s shoulders deflate. “Okay…” He pouts, and that look alone has me wanting to plead to see his room right now so that I don’t have to look at him like that. I pick up my fork for something else to focus on.
“Leo?”
I drop the fork. Who needs food, anyway? “Benny?”
“Will you help me set up the rock tumbler?”
Mia squeezes my knee.
“I would love to.”
“Leo?”
Swear, you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if you tried. “Benny?”
“Why is yellow your favorite color?”
I suck in a breath. “Because it was my mom’s.”
He nods, his eyes wide. “Yellow’s my mom’s favorite color, too!”
I peek over at Mia. “Really?”
“Mama has a yellow bracelet. She says it’s septeminal.”
“Uh…”
Warmth fills my heart when Mia clarifies, “Sentimental.”
“That’s what I said!” Benny laughs. “You’re such a goofball, Mama!”
I spend the afternoon with Benny, setting up the rock tumbler and then walking around the farm, searching for rocks to put in there. Even though Mia assures him he already has tons of rocks in multiple buckets, bowls, and pockets of his clothes, Benny tells her they’re not the right ones. So Benny and I—with Mia following quietly behind—go on what he calls “an adventure.” We traipse through the grass with a bucket and shovel, and occasionally, he’ll look up at me with a grin that literally melts me and points down to the ground. “Right here!” he’ll say, so we dig. We dig and dig, and sometimes we’ll find nothing, so we’ll move on and keep walking.
He doesn’t talk a lot while we walk, which is fine. I wasn’t really much of a talker myself. But when he does talk, I listen. I listen more intently to the random things he’ll spout than I do anything and anyone else in my entire life. At one point, we come across a little creek, and he tells me that this is where they wash the rocks. So we wash the rocks. He could tell me this is where they peel off their skin and sacrifice themselves to the rock gods, and I’d do it. We wash as much dirt off the rocks as we can, and when I stand up, a bucket full of wet rocks in my grasp, he takes my free hand in his. His small hand grips the tips of my fingers, and I freeze. Every single muscle locks up. And then I just stare at him, this little boy who stares back at me. I don’t breathe. Don’t blink. And then he smiles, pushing his hand firmer in mine until we’re palm to palm. I wrap my fingers around his. Behind me, I hear Mia make a noise, but I don’t look at her. I look at our son, at his wide smile and his honey eyes, black hair, and the smattering of freckles on his nose. “Leo?” he says, pulling me from my daze as he continues to walk, dragging me with him. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“Would you like me to?” I ask, the words harsh against the emotion in my throat.
“Yes,” he says, and it’s such a simple, one-word response, but it means everything.
“Then I’ll stay,” I tell him.
Mia walks up beside him, taking his other hand in hers, and we head back to the house, the three of us together, and slowly, surely, the fear in my heart is replaced with the hope in my hands.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Mia
“Should we wake her?” Leo whispers, his breath fanning across my cheeks.
Benny giggles. “Scare her,” he replies, his voice low.
“No, we shouldn’t do that,” Leo murmurs. “Look at her. She’s so cute. And little.”
I try not to smile, but my lip twitches in response. After searching for rocks the entire afternoon, Leo stayed for dinner, and then dinner turned into a movie, all at the request of Benny. We settled in for the night in the barn’s living room and watched a documentary about rocks and minerals I’d seen close to three million times. The last thing I remember was all three of us sitting on the couch watching, and now I’m lying across the couch with a blanket over me, and I don’t know how this happened.
“Cute, little Mama,” Benny whispers, his small hand cupping my cheek. “WAKE UP, MAMA!”