Page 45 of Stolen Dreams

A love I’d kill for.

But I also don’t want that love now. One day.

THIRTEEN

RAY

“Miss Kaya is goingto love my room.” Tucker does a little jig across the kitchen before he grabs his apron from the hook near the pantry.

“Did you clean your room like I asked?”

He nods with too much enthusiasm. “Yep. Spick and span.” He lifts a hand and ticks off items on his fingers as he says them. “Clothes are in the basket. I made my bed. Kind of. Games and toys put away. Comics stacked on my shelf. Desk is clean.”

Sometimes, your kid needs a little extra motivation. As in someone he thinks highly of coming over to your house and potentially seeing how neat and tidy—or not—you are.

“Good job, bud. Thank you.”

Asking Kaya to have dinner with me took more courage than I anticipated. Sorting out the details before I messaged her had proven to be a minor challenge.

The last time I had a legitimate date was when Tucker was still with Brianna. There was no need to ask my family to look after him. There was zero potential of my parents prying into my personal life. Had I asked them to watch Tucker tonight, it would have been different. Sure, they would’ve said yes. They love himand would do anything for him. But their yes would’ve been followed by a barrage of questions as to why.

At thirty-six, I should be able to tell my parents I’m dating. Tell them a woman caught my eye. But I can’t. I won’t.

For over a decade, my parents paraded my sister around like a prize poodle. Tried to marry her off to a son of the Seven. All for notoriety and status. And last year, it backfired in their faces. Cataclysmically.

With the exception of Brianna, I’ve kept my relationships quiet. Had I not become a father, I’d have remained tight-lipped about her, too.

I love my parents. I love our small family. But their meddling is an unwelcome intrusion I’d rather live without.

So, I came up with a better date night idea.

Yesterday afternoon, I sat down with Tucker and asked if it was okay if Kaya came over for a special dinner. The way his face instantly lit up made my eyes sting. I anticipated him asking questions. Mentally prepared to give him honest answers. And to my surprise, only a couple of his questions made my stomach cramp and twist.

“Is Miss Kaya going to be your wife?”

“Will she be my new mom?”

So much hope sparkled in his hazel eyes as he waited for my answers. It gutted me to be candid and tell him no, that Kaya and I are only friends. His smile vanished, and he deflated faster than his pool floaties. His dejection was a dull blade to the heart. A sadness I was tempted to erase with empty promises.

Wanting to be more than Kaya’s friend isn’t a lie. Saying I’m ready to be more would be, though.

I could give Tucker false hope. But I won’t.

If Kaya and I are never more than this—two people madly attracted to each other—and I lie to him, he may neverforgive me. He’d never believe a word I say. I’d be labeled untrustworthy. A betrayer. He’d grow to resent me.

And I refuse to be another parent he loses confidence in.

I’d rather him feel the sting of truth now than the debilitating pain and heartache of careless lies later.

After our talk, I messaged Kaya and said Tucker would join us. Then I tossed out the idea of her coming to the house if she was comfortable with it. Texts suck at inflection, but her response came across as excited.

Since this morning, Tucker and I have been busy. Between tidying the house, running to the store for last-minute ingredients, and food prep, there hasn’t been much downtime.

Tucker steps onto the short stool beside me and watches as I dice red onion for the salad. “Can I help?”

“Of course, bud.”

I fetch another cutting board from the cabinet and lay it in front of him. Grab the paring knife from the magnetic block on the wall and set it on his board, but keep it covered with my hand.