TEN
Elijah
I’m grabbingsome burgers at Wayside Diner the next night before I head over to the bakery to help Hartley with the tables and chairs when my phone rings. For one brief moment, I hope that it’s Hartley. I’ve been checking my phone more than usual today, and if I’m being honest with myself, I know that it’s because I’ve been hoping that Hartley would reach out to me.
It’s not Hartley though. It’s Patrick.
I answer right away, hoping that nothing is wrong with Brennan.
“Hello?” I answer, passing some cash across the counter and nodding as I grab the bags of food and push out the diner door.
“Hey, man,” Patrick says, and he sounds like shit.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, hurrying over to my truck and hopping in.
It’s freezing outside and I crank the heat up as I wait to find out if I’m going to be headed toward the bakery or to Patrick’s place.
“So Brennan is better, but now I have it,” he rasps out.
“You want me to grab you some Gatorade or something?” I ask.
“Can you watch Brennan for a day or two? Just until I’m over this?”
“Uh…”
“He’ll have school tomorrow so it will really just be tonight and then maybe tomorrow night if I’m still throwing up.”
“You’re trusting me with Brennan?”
“Of course, Eli. You’re family. Now, I’m about to go and throw up again. Front door is unlocked and Brennan is in his room packing a bag. He’s very excited to be spending the night with Uncle Eli.”
The line goes dead after that and I’m grateful that I don’t have to listen to Patrick hurling. I send Hartley a message, letting her know that I’ll be a few minutes late before I shift into drive and head over to Patrick’s place.
All of the lights are on and I jump out of the truck and jog up the front steps. Brennan is struggling to drag his backpack and small duffel bag down the stairs, and I hurry to help him. I can hear Patrick in the bathroom upstairs and I wait for a break in the vomiting before I yell that I’m locking up and to get some rest.
Patrick grunts back and I chuckle as I grab Brennan’s bags. I turn off the lights and make sure that the back door is locked while Brennan gets his hat and coat on.
I help him into the truck and he finds the food almost immediately. I make sure he’s buckled up before I back out of the drive and head toward the bakery.
“This is really cold,” Brennan says, tossing a fry back into the bag.
“Yeah, I forgot about it when I went inside to pick you up. We’re headed to the bakery. Maybe we can convince Ms. Hartley to make us something better to eat than cold burgers and fries.”
“Bakery?” Brennan asks, his whole body perking up.
I chuckle, steering us through the light traffic. We pull up outside of the bakery a few minutes later and Brennan’s little hands scramble to unbuckle and open the truck door. I help him hop down from the truck and he bolts over to the bakery doors.
Hartley is in the middle of the main room surrounded by open boxes and metal parts.
“Getting started without me?” I ask, grabbing Brennan before he can trip over what looks like a table leg.
“I was trying to, but I think I just made a bigger mess. The lights came this afternoon and I thought that I could get most of this done myself so that we just had the lights tonight, but none of the screws fit in the holes and line up and oh my god this is a nightmare. I just want to scream and––Oh! Hello there,” Hartley says as she looks up and spots Brennan.
“Hi,” Brennan says shyly, tucking himself close to my legs and peeking out to watch Hartley.
“Patrick is sick, so I’m watching Brennan for a day or two. Do you mind that he’s here?” I ask, realizing that I probably should have asked her before we just showed up.
“Of course not! It’s nice to meet you, Brennan,” Hartley says with a big smile and Brennan grins back at her.