“Can we go to the park now?” Matson ran back into the kitchen, and I looked up to see Ryan following close behind him.
“I guess we’re done playing,” he said with a shrug.
Matson turned around to look at Ryan. “We’re not done. I just want to go outside for a little while. Get some fresh air. Mama says fresh air is good for growing boys. Don’t you like fresh air, Ryan? We can play in my room later.”
“I love fresh air, and your mom’s right. We should definitely go to the park. Is it the same one as before?” Ryan asked, and I nodded.
“It’s his favorite.”
“Monkey bars on the beach. What’s not to love?”
“You’re really good with him,” I told Ryan, wanting him to know his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and that I appreciated them.
“He makes it easy. He’s a great kid, Sofia,” Ryan said with a grin, and I melted more inside.
As we walked outside, Matson’s face lit up a
t the sight of Ryan’s car.
“I’ll drive,” Ryan said, and the second I went to protest, Matson jumped in.
“Yes! Your car is awesome, Ryan.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I sit in front?” Matson asked, and Ryan’s gaze immediately met mine.
Shaking my head, I told Matson, “No, you have to sit in the back of this car too. You know the rules.”
Matson’s face fell, and he muttered, “Okay.”
“Are you sure you want to drive?” I asked, and Ryan looked at me like I had grown two heads.
“Why wouldn’t I? Get in the car, woman,” he said, and Matson copied him.
“Yeah, Mama. Get in the car, woman!”
During the drive to the park, Matson kept talking about Ryan’s car, pointing out all the features in the backseat, from the white stitching in the leather seats to the control panel he had only for his seat. Ryan nudged me and I glanced at him, smiling, but my smile faded as I noted his somber expression and the nod of his head.
I looked in my side mirror and noted the truck behind us following a little too closely. The black truck had tinted windows, and even though we couldn’t see the driver clearly, I knew we both jumped to the same conclusion—that it was Derek following us.
“How long?” I asked, knowing Ryan would pick up on my meaning without my having to explain further. The last thing I wanted was to alert Matson that anything could be wrong.
“Since we left your house,” Ryan said in a low voice.
“Since we left?”
He nodded. “Do you know what he drives?”
“I have no idea.”
“What are you guys looking at?” Matson tried to crane his neck, but thankfully he was too little to see over the backseat and out the rear window.
Ryan and I exchanged glances.
“Just a funny guy riding a bike,” I said lightly, completely lying.
Matson laughed, believing me without question. “Was he naked like that other guy?” His head cocked to the side and his blue eyes sparkled as he referred to the afternoon on Venice Beach when we’d seen a guy streaking while the cops chased him.