Page 38 of Beating Heart
City life had been so different.
I’d lived in a high-rise, and I’d barely spoken to my neighbors over the years.
But this was the way I’d grown up.
Hell, my mom had Sunday dinners that were open to anyone who wanted to come. Half the town came to our Fourth of July party every year.
“You got it. I’ve got some water boiling, and I’m making Cutler some noodles. I’ll wrap some up for you in case you’re able to hold food down later tonight or tomorrow.”
He nodded and then took a sip of the Gatorade before closing his eyes as his head rested against the wall.
I walked out and got the noodles cooking and poured them into a bowl with some butter before calling Cutler over to the table. Winnie had fallen asleep on the couch.
“This looks yummy. Pops makes the best noodles, too.” He shoved a forkful into his mouth.
His dark hair was lying flat on his head, minus his usual gel, as he’d clearly been on the couch all day, and I took him in. He was such an adorable little boy with his chocolate brown eyes and cherub cheeks.
“You’ve held food down fine today?”
“Yep. Pops made me toast and a banana for breakfast and some soup and crackers for lunch.”
He’d done the BRAT diet. Nash clearly knew how to care for a sick child.
“Good. And you rested a lot today?”
“Yep. We slept on the couch for a long time. Except when Tara called.” He took a sip of water and then continued. “That’s my mom. She’s coming here at the end of summer, and she wants me to call her mom instead of Tara.”
That was an odd request when you hadn’t seen someone in a while. Obviously, I didn’t know all the details, but I’d gathered enough from what Nash had shared to know she didn’t come around much.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know her.” He shrugged. “Do you know your mama?”
I sighed. “Yeah. My mom is great. But, I will say this. If my mom wasn’t great, I’d be okay with her not being around, you know?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. I mean, you have this fabulous dad, and he loves you so much. And being surrounded by love is what’s most important.” I said.
He shrugged as he shoved some more noodles into his mouth and then took a minute to think over my words. “You only like fabulous people in your life, too, Dr. Emerson?”
“First off, if we’re sitting here eating noodles, I think you should just call me Emerson, okay? We’re friends, right?”
His lips turned up in the corners, and he was so adorably perfect that I couldn’t help but smile when I was around him. “We are friends, so I think I should give you a nickname, since you call me Beefcake.”
“Okay. What do you want to call me?” I asked, as he looked deep in thought.
“I’m going to call you Sunny. Because the word sun is at the end of your name, and I think you feel like sunshine.”
My heart melted.
“I like that name, Beefcake. Thank you.” I patted his little hand. “And yes. I like to be surrounded by fabulous people, like you and my family.”
“You want the other people to leave if they aren’t being fabulous? Cause my camp counselor, Louisa, she says we should only be around people who fill our buckets.”
“I like that. I had this, er, friend that. I spent a lot of years with. But in the end, he wasn’t a good friend to me. So I agree with Louisa. Let’s keep people around who fill our buckets.” I chuckled.
“But also, my pops and my uncles would beat your friend up if you wanted them to,” he said.
