Page 86 of Reverie
He shrugs. “A few hours. His social worker, Alison, is usually with him when Winter isn’t, and she’s really helped August process things. Winter hasn’t given herself much of a break, so Alison and I decided to step in and do August duty so she can rest.”
He offers this explanation casually, filling me in on the regular activities that I should have known already.
No time for regrets.
I decide to change the subject now that I’ve got Max alone.
“How long have you been spying on me?” I ask.
He grimaces. “Eh, I wouldn’t sayspyingis the right word. More like…” He scratches his ear. “More like I came across some information that led to more information that led to me being here.”
I raise an eyebrow and try to track his line of thought.
“So…how long?” I ask, not wavering from his gaze.
“About a year,” he replies. I hum in response.
August bounces into the room, and Max takes that as his cue to leave.
“August, tomorrow I want a re-match,” Max says happily.
August gives his version of an eye roll and says, “Sure, whatever you say.”
Max turns his hat around to face forward, gives us a salute, and exits.
August resumes his stance of discomfort. I can’t expect him to come to me. I need to go to him.
And that’s okay.
“Hey,” I say. He lifts his head, looking in the vicinity of my right shoulder. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
He doesn’t give me an answer. Instead, he launches himself into my arms. His tablet presses sharply between us, poking into my ribs, but I ignore it, wrapping my arms around him.
He makes sounds of distress, and after a second, he presses his face into my shirt. I’m able to make out the wetness of his tears through the fabric of my shirt.
“August, I’m so sorry,” I say, putting my head on the top of his head. He’s grown at least a foot since his mother died. “Shit keeps happening to us, and I’m sorry.”
August rubs against my shirt, and when he’s finished cleaning his face, he separates from me and lifts his tablet.
“It is not your fault,” he says.
Oh, but it is. It so fucking is, August. And I’m so goddamn sorry.
I put my hand on his arm, a safe place to touch him, as I’ve learned. “From now on, it’s you and me, kid. You, me, and Winter.”
“And the fetus?” he adds.
I grin.
It’s a serious inquiry from him.
“Yes. You, me, Winter, and the little bean sprout.”
August makes a face, confusion warring.
“Please remember that when you say things like that, it confuses me. Does she have a legume in her uterus? That seems like a medical emergency. It does not make sense.”
I bite my lips so I don’t laugh. August wouldn’t appreciate it, thinking that I’m laughing at him. I’m not, really. He’s just so damn funny.