Never Been Ready (30 page)

But as soon as I'd said food, they were up and running. Declan snagged a piece of bacon from the plate as he sat down, and I scolded him as I poured orange juice. When I went to grab myself another cup of coffee, I realized then that Connor hadn't taken a seat. I turned and saw him frozen in the kitchen, staring at the plate of pancakes, like they were infested with maggots or something equally hideous.

"Connor, what is it?" I asked, rushing to his side.

"My mom used to...I hate pancakes!" he shouted, running from the room.

The guest bedroom door slammed, and I looked up, locking eyes with Declan.

"What did I do?" I asked, feeling the tears stinging my eyes.

He came to me and pulled me into his arms. "You didn't do anything. Let me go talk to him, okay?"

"I just...I didn't know."

"How could you, Leah? We are going into this blind. We are learning as we go, and we can do this one day at a time. Just think about everything we've accomplished with him so far. He's still recovering, and we're going to have setbacks."

"Please tell him I'm sorry," I begged.

"He knows. He's not mad at you. He's mad at the universe. Someone was taken away from him, and he doesn't understand why."

I nodded, and he gave me one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the guest room. I watched him walk away, and it was the first time I saw him truly as a father. I didn't know how to be a parent.

Could I be the woman he needed me to be?

~Declan~

I knocked on the door and took a step in. Connor was curled into a ball on the large bed, reminding me of how young he really was. He put on a bold front, acted tough and aloof, but he really was only seven. He was a second grader who had lost his mom on the way to visit a family friend. He was only a child who had to leave his entire life behind to move to another state while he wondered why his mommy was never coming back.

"Hey," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

He didn't say anything, but I could hear sniffling, indicating he was crying. His head was buried into his knees, and he had his arms wrapped firmly around his legs. I remembered taking this same position on several occasions when I had been his age and older.

"I remember your mom used to make the best pancakes. Blueberry, right?"

His head shot up, and his face was red and splotchy. There were marks from fresh tears, and his flannel pajama bottoms were wet from where they had soaked up other tears.

"Whenever I'd have a bad day, she'd always say, 'Why don't I make you pancakes?'" I looked into the eyes of a child I hadn't known existed, but somehow, I felt like I'd loved him his entire life despite it.
How else could I possibly describe the depth of love I felt for him?

"She used to make me birthday pancakes, and she'd stick a candle in the stack. She'd tell me to make a wish...I should have wished for her."

My heart nearly exploded as he launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around my torso, as he sobbed. I pulled him in tight and gently rubbed his back.

"You couldn't have known. And you can't let your happy memories of your mom be ruined because of what happened. She wouldn't want it that way."

"But how do I remember the good stuff when it hurts?"

"You take it one memory at a time, one day at a time. But if you stopped doing all the fun stuff you and your mom did together, you'd miss out on a great life."

"Does Leah hate me now?" Connor asked, still leaning on my shoulder. He crumpled up his Iron Man T-shirt and wiped off his eyes. They were still red and puffy, but at least, they were dry now.

"No, absolutely not. Leah thinks you're a pretty cool dude. She could never hate you."

His eyes flashed up to mine at those words, and I was momentarily stunned again by how much his eyes mirrored mine. They were green with flecks of blue and brown, but now, they were a bit greener as he smiled shyly.

"She's really pretty."

What is this? A crush?

"Yes, she is." I grinned.
Yep, definitely my son.

"Do you think she'll still let us eat pancakes?"

"Let's go find out."

We walked out together and found Leah on the couch, still in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Whenever she wore them, I remembered that night when I'd shown up here, trying to sleep with her. I'd thought I would be able to get her out of my system, nice and easy. I had been fooling myself. She was an addiction I never wanted to cure. She was my Hollywood happy ending, and I couldn't wait to spend every moment of our lives together making real-life movie magic.

Leah jumped from the couch, fiddling with the tie of her robe. She looked nervous and devastated. I hated seeing her this way. I knew she felt guilty for upsetting Connor, and I understood. I would have felt the same way, but we couldn't keep the bad from happening. We couldn't shelter him from his feelings. I knew she'd been through something similar, and I knew the pain she had gone through. Part of her just wanted to bottle him up and keep him safe from everything, and I loved her for it. But the realistic side of her understood that he had to face his fears and learn to live life without Heather, no matter how hard that would be.

"I'm so sorry, Leah," Connor said before giving her a long hug.

She looked at me before bending down and embracing him. "No problem, Little Man."

"Okay, okay...that's enough hugging, Casanova," I said, grinning. "She's mine. Go find someone your own size."

I ruffled his hair as we made our way to the kitchen again.

"What do you want for breakfast, Connor?" Leah asked.

The table had been cleared, except for the plates and juice glasses. I saw a light on in the oven, and I figured she'd stuck everything under the warmer. Connor glanced over at me, and I gave him a slight encouraging nod.

He took a deep breath and said, "I think I'll have some chocolate chip pancakes."

"You sure?" Leah asked quietly.

"Yep, one memory at a time. Right, Declan?"

"That's right, Little Man. That's right."

Leah pulled out the pancakes and bacon from the oven, and we settled at the table. I told a story about one of my first auditions in Hollywood, causing them both to laugh. It had been for a horror movie, and the part had been for a victim who got attacked in his car. I hadn't gotten it. Apparently, my screams weren't so good. Leah about choked on her chocolate chip pancake when I said that, remembering our game from earlier in the morning.

We made it through breakfast, and Connor managed to polish off three pancakes and a pile of bacon.

He smiled down at his empty plate and looked at me. "Thanks."

"Anytime, dude. Let's go kill some aliens now."

And just like that, he made it through to the other side, unscathed and stronger.

Pancakes and hugs —they were miracle workers.

~Leah~

"Logan, next time you have cancer and get a clean bill of health, can you do it in the fall?" I joked, sweeping a bead of sweat as it trickled down my temple as we all stood around in Logan and Clare's backyard.

It was summer. Months had passed by since Declan had moved in. We'd had so many happy days. I didn't think life could get better.

Until last week, when a hysterical Clare had called me, saying the words we'd prayed for. Logan was officially in remission. No signs of cancer could be found. The chemo and radiation had done their jobs. He would still have to go back in for checkups, but other than that, he was better.

I'd collapsed in the bedroom when she told me, crying tears of joy for my best friend and for a man I'd come to love. Logan had saved Clare. He'd loved her when she had needed to be loved so desperately. Knowing he was going to okay...I couldn't explain it. I felt relief, joy, elation. It was overwhelming. Knowing what the alternative was, remembering the feeling of losing Ethan, I'd cherished that moment. We'd hung up, and I'd told her I'd call her soon.

Declan, of course, had rushed into the bedroom, ready to kill whoever or whatever had harmed me, but when he had seen me smiling, he'd calmed and asked me what had happened.

"Logan...he's in remission."

Declan's eyes had closed tightly as he'd braced himself against the doorframe for a moment. I hadn't realized how worried Declan had been until then —when I'd seen his visible relief for his longtime friend.

He'd opened his eyes, and slowly, he'd smiled. His eyes had crinkled a bit, giving him that boyish look I loved so much.

"I think we need a party," he'd suggested.

And that was how we all ended up at Logan and Clare's a week later. We'd offered to host it, but since we hadn't found a house we both could agree on yet, the party had been moved here for space. Our townhouse, although spacious, just couldn't hold more than a few people comfortably. This party was only for immediate family and us, but it still would have been cramped. We really needed a new house.

Logan grinned at my snide comment. It really was damn hot though. Summer was the one season I both loved and hated. I loved it when I was able to lie near a pool and sunbathe. I hated it when I was required to wear clothes, and jumping in water wasn't an option. Virginia in the summer was hot and sticky and made my hair do hideous things.

Connor and Maddie chose that moment to run by, laughing, making a beeline to the swings. They had become fast friends, which had made Clare and me swoon as we envisioned an adorable wedding in twenty years. The men had just shaken their heads at our crazy plans.

Connor had made tremendous progress. Between all of us, including Sarah and Devin, we had helped him through the roughest months and the strongest memories. He'd learned to recognize that memories of his mom were good things and should be celebrated. Declan and I had taken him to an ice rink, and we'd all gone ice skating, which was something Connor had always done with his mother. We'd made a new tradition of eating our ice cream with the cones flipped over in a bowl because that had been the way his mom used to give it to him. We didn't want him to lose her, but we also didn't want him to live in the past. We tried to bring new adventures to his life as well, so he could create new memories.

The fact that Connor still didn't know who Declan was killed him. Declan wanted to tell him, but Sarah and Devin had asked for six months. It was difficult on Declan. He was developing this amazing relationship with his son, but it was based partially on a lie. By the end of the summer, we would fulfill the time requirement, and then we could tell Connor.

"Hey, where's Goober?" I asked, noticing Garrett's absence and the obvious void in our little family.

"He said he had something for work, so he couldn't make it." Logan shrugged.

"On a Saturday afternoon?"

"I don't know. He does work a lot," Clare answered.

"I'm worried about him. I don't think he's had a date in months, if not years. He doesn't do anything but work, and it's beginning to show. He looks tired and worn out all the time."

Clare nodded in agreement. "I know. Me, too. I've tried to talk with him, but he brushes it off, saying he needs to put in the time to move up. He says he'll have time to do everything he wants to do later when he's higher up the ladder."

"I don't think it's a career choice. I think he's purposely avoiding something. Work is just a happy accident that keeps his mind occupied," I said, holding up my glass to my face in a vain attempt to cool myself down.

Backyard cookout in the summer? Whose dumb idea was this?

Oh yeah, mine.

"But what could it be though?" Clare asked.

"I don't know, and I doubt he'll tell anyone. Keep an eye on him, and if it gets worse, let me know. I'll force it out of him if I have to," I said.

The men wandered over to the grill, pretending to cook, as they drank beer and laughed. Clare and I took a seat on the patio where a fan had been plugged in, and we sighed as the cool wind blew in our direction.

"Guess what?" Clare said before sipping her sweet tea.

I didn't know how she stomached the stuff. I knew I was born and raised in the South, but I couldn't stand it. It tasted like simple syrup with a bit of tea thrown in for color.
Yuck.

"You really do think I look fat in this dress?"

"No!" She giggled. "You look gorgeous as always. You need to take it down a notch and give the rest of us a fighting chance."

"Oh, please. Do you see the way your husband keeps looking over here? He's staring at one of us, and it's definitely not me. I'd say you have it going on and then some."

She smiled as she quickly glanced across the yard, catching Logan's heated gaze. His hair had mostly grown back, and it was back to his messy signature style.

"You were going to tell me something before you started eye-fucking your husband?" I teased.

She blushed and laughed. She tore her eyes away from Logan and focused back on me. She was the color of a cherry red tomato, and she probably would be for the next five minutes. No amount of embarrassment ever went unnoticed on Clare's fair skin.