Page 12 of Because of Blake
“There’s a lot of violence. Blood and guts type games. I’d offer to show you, but something tells me you’re not a gamer.”
I realize my nose is scrunched up, though I don’t mean to be rude. With a shake of my head, I relax my features. “No, not a gamer myself, but I’ve played a lot of Mario Kart with Dylan. I’m not too shabby.”
“Mario Kart, huh?” Blake tilts his head down to look at me. “That’s one of the few games I play that doesn’t involve death and dismemberment. Maybe you and I should have a tournament sometime.”
My stomach churns. I’m thankful Blake can’t see my toes moving wildly inside my shoes. I run my hand over my head, steadying myself for the pained look on Blake’s face when I turn him down.
I open my mouth, but am interrupted by Joanna’s husband, Mark, calling out from up the street. “Hey, Blake! The game’s about to start. Hurry up!”
Blake groans. “I forgot I told Mark I’d watch the football game with him. Broncos are playing the Patriots. It’s a big deal.” An exasperated huff comes through his lips. “Especially if you’ve got money riding on it, which Mark does.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I live right across the street. You don’t have far to go.”
He shrugs. “Even if you lived on the other side of the neighborhood, I’d walk you home. Mark can wait.”
I turn away to hide my red cheeks. Blake is a sweet man, for sure. A sweetneighbor, I remind myself.
As we reach my house, I’m surprised he follows me to the porch. “Thank you for seeing me home. I would have made it on my own, though.”
He hikes his shoulder to his ear. “I know, but I liked having the company. Oscar isn’t exactly a conversationalist.”
I chuckle and look at my feet. When I lift my head, I meet Blake’s intense gaze, and my mouth goes dry. I have to clear my throat to speak. “Well, I should get inside and drink some water. Have fun with Mark.”
“Thanks, I’m sure I will.” He rolls his eyes, but settles them back on me with a wink, which has my stomach flipping. “But I’ve got to take Oscar home first.”
“He doesn’t get to watch the game?”
“Joanna’s not a dog person.” His tone holds more than a bit of irritation. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Maggie.”
“You too.” I watch him walk down the street toward the cul-de-dac. As he reaches the sidewalk leading to his house, he turns and waves. I raise my palm up, shaking it slightly, and let out the biggest breath I’ve ever held.
Chapter five
“Mom!WeneedHalloweenpumpkins!” Dylan shouts, while we’re watchingThe Nightmare Before Christmasand noshing on popcorn and root beer floats.
The kids are on fall break, and I’ve taken the week off so I don’t have to worry about them being home alone. They much prefer to be home than at the school program, anyway, but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at work knowing they were on their own.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re right! We’ll get some after the movie.” I beam at my son who settles back down, tossing some popcorn into his mouth while his sister rolls her eyes. Sydney pretends not to be interested in the movie, but I not only glimpse a smile, I also catch her watching it and lip syncing to the songs.
Later, at the local garden center, Sydney informs me she doesn’t want to trick or treat this year.
I can’t believe my ears. I know she’s growing up, but I thought I’d get another couple years of trick or treating before she went full teenager on me. “Really, sweetheart? You don’t want to go at least once in the new neighborhood?”
She shakes her head, her wavy brown hair, which matches mine, flipping into her face. “No. I’m too old.”
This is a sudden change, even for an almost teenager. “But you’ve always loved Halloween. What’s with the one-eighty?”
She shrugs, looking away and dragging her toe through some dirt.
“Syd?” I crane my neck to try to meet her gaze.
“The other girls at school were talking about going to parties. They said trick or treating was for kids.”
Ugh, my heart. I turn so I’m in front of her and I squat down. “Look, if you want to trick or treat, then you can. You don’t have to answer to anyone else, only yourself.”
“But what if someone sees me? I’ll get made fun of for being juvenile.”
I scrunch my forehead as I contemplate a way to work this out. “I think I have an idea.”