Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,25

left on the bench of the breakfast nook, he removed the jersey and unfolded it to show Andy the back. “He got Chernyshevsky’s autograph for you.”

Andy’s eyes lit up and he reached for the jersey.

Dakota pulled it away. “Wash your hands first, please.”

Taking the two steps down from his stool, Andy moved it to the sink to wash his hands before running back and crashing into Dakota’s legs. “Wanna wear it.”

“’Kay. Arms up.”

Dakota went back to the biscuits when Andy ran off to check himself out in the mirror in the foyer.

“Daddy!” Andy yelled from the front of the house. It was followed by the pat-pat-pat of little feet running back to the kitchen. He ran full-tilt and barely stopped himself against the cupboards. “Dad, can Tay come for dinner?”

Placing the last biscuit on the tray, Dakota pursed his lips and washed his hands. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tay likes stew.”

“Oh, really?” Dakota chuckled. “And how do you know that?”

Andy hugged his leg and batted his eyes.

“It’s kind of last minute.” Dakota tussled Andy’s hair. “He might have other plans.”

“But he said he’d come next time,” Andy insisted. “It’s next time. Call him, Daddy.”

Unable to think of a reason not to, Dakota did. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned his son.

“Oh, it’s much too late for that,” said a teasing voice in his ear.

Warmth uncurled in Dakota’s belly. “Hi, Tay.”

“Hi. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Andy and I have a request.”

Andy pulled on his arm. “Wanna see.”

“Hang on, Tay. Let me put you on speaker.” He did just that and placed the phone face up on the counter. “There you go,” he said to Andy. “Now you can talk to Tay.”

“Hi, Tay!”

“Hi, little man.”

Andy grasped the edge of the countertop with both hands and pulled himself up onto his toes. Dakota nudged the stool over in his direction. Climbing up, Andy brought the phone closer, leaning his elbows on the counter. “D’you wanna come for dinner?”

A pause, then, “Right now?”

“We’re making stew an’ biscuits an’ Uncle Calder made lemon tarts.”

“Lemon tarts, huh?” The amusement in Tay’s voice had Dakota biting back a smile. “What time’s dinner?”

The stew was ready. It was just the biscuits that needed to go in the oven, and they didn’t need long. “Whenever you get here.”

“Text me your address and I’ll grab an Uber.”

Twenty minutes after he hung up with Tay, Andy bit his lip and rolled a puzzle piece between his little fingers.

“What’s wrong, bud?”

Andy crawled over to him and sat on his lap. “Where’s Tay?”

“He’s on his way.” Wrapping his arms around him, Dakota rested his chin on the top of his head. “Remember a couple of weeks ago, when we went to visit Uncle Calder? And there was so much traffic, we were at the same stoplight for twenty minutes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tay’s having the same problem. He’s just stuck.” At the height of rush hour, who knew how much longer he’d be stuck for.

Andy scrambled up. “He’s stuck? We have to go get him. Come on, Dad.” He pulled on Dakota’s arm.

Heart full to bursting over his tiny, thoughtful kid, Dakota reeled him in and kissed his head. “It’s easier if we wait here for him. He’ll be here soon.”

Soon was another forty minutes, during which Tay kept him updated on his ETA via text, and in which Andy asked the same two questions over and over: Does Tay like puzzles? and Can I introduce him to Helix?

When the doorbell finally rang, Andy abandoned their campervan without a second thought. Dakota followed after him, about to remind him the rules for answering the door—namely, don’t do it unless an adult is with you—and found Andy dancing from foot to foot next to the door like he had to pee.

“Impatient much?” Dakota joked, yanking the door open.

Tay’s thick winter coat was open, revealing a wide chest covered in the same gray-and-white patterned, long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. A backpack was slung over one shoulder. On the street, a car with an Uber sticker in the windshield pulled away from the curb.

“Come in, Tay.” Andy tugged on his hand.

Tay shot Dakota an eye-crinkling smile as he stepped into the house. To Andy, he said, “Nice jersey.”

“Andy, what do we say to Tay?” Dakota said, hanging Tay’s coat in the closet.

“Thank you!” Andy bounced in place. “Imma wear it every day.”

“He probably will too,” Dakota muttered to Tay.

As he shut the closet door, Tay squeezed his arm and Dakota felt the touch all the way into his