CHAPTER EIGHT
“I think we’re going to be on time today, Aunt Ivy,” Tanner says as he leans between the driver and passenger seat, his eyes on the time on the dashboard.
I glance at him and do a double take. “Tanner!” His eyes widening is the last thing I see before my focus is back on the road. “Why aren’t you sitting back in your seat? Please tell me you’re strapped in. I know I watched you put your belt on.”
Silence.
“Tanner?”
“Sorry.” His head disappears from my peripheral and I hear the snap of his seatbelt clicking into place.
“You can’t just take your seatbelt off,” I tell him. “If we were to get in a wreck, that seatbelt is the only thing standing between you and the windshield.”
Okay, maybe a little too harsh, Ivy.
But a part of me can’t think of anything other than the fact that both his parents died in a car accident. The fact that he wasn’t wearing his belt sent a panic through me. I mean for fucks sake, both Kylie and Andrew were wearing their seatbelts and they still died.
My throat closes up.
“I said sorry.” The hurt comes through in his words and it makes me feel bad.
Fuck, and now you’ve hurt his feelings.
But you’ve got to be firm with him, especially when it comes to his safety.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I apologize. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Yeah, I get it,” there’s a slight bite to his voice.
Sighing, I pull into the baseball parking lot and Tanner’s right, we’re actually early. There’s only a handful of cars already here. I get the kids out of the car and Tanner hurriedly heads off to the field to play with the other kids before practice starts. A part of me feels like he’s also just trying to get the hell away from me.
Maybe if you were a bit more gentle…
I shake my head, trying to figure out whether yelling was a bad point. I don’t have much experience since my own mother fussed at me for every little thing and when she didn’t, she was only being indifferent. My father was a lot more laid back, loving, and caring, so it was rare that he ever yelled and when he did it was only in serious situations.
Like when I crashed his car while three sheets to the wind after a night of Jager bombs.
I was fifteen.
I cringe at the thought, glancing at Tanner. Jesus, what am I going to do if he acts like me when he’s a teenager?
You still have a handful of years before that even rolls around, just make it through this year, first.
I used to not worry about anything other than who was throwing the hottest party and whether or not I’d be able to make that month’s rent. Now though, I’m always worrying about things that are so far in the future or that in the grand scheme of things is minuscule.
Especially when it comes to the kids.
Take Lilly for instance. I don’t know how long it takes for kids to start actually speaking more, but it feels like Lilly should be saying more words than she currently is. At this point, I’ve only heard her repeat fuck and sometimes shit. Words that I definitely don’t want her saying, but I’m actually considering it a win since she isn’t saying much else. Everything else is babbles.
Her wide eyes stare at me as I open the car door and I’m surprised to find her awake. Which is another problem, she sleeps a lot. I thought only newborns slept this much, but the kid takes a handful of naps during the day while also sleeping completely through the night.
“Aunt Ivy’s just over worrying, isn’t she, baby girl?” I mutter as I hoist her out of the car.
Should I be carrying her as much as I do?
I debated on it before deciding to grab the turtle leash grandma suggested from out of the trunk and strapping it to her. Once it’s secure, I place her on the ground. Checking for any cars and coming up empty, we head to the field. Lilly seems content as she waddles along in front of me. She only stops when she spots a patch of flowers. Her little hands grab at one and she rips it from the ground.
“Lilly, you’re killing the environment.” I laugh at my own joke until I catch the glare of- what did Jamille call her?-Betty.