Page 90 of Fierce-Baker

“Would you mind taking him outside for a bit?” she asked. “Let him run it out. If I were alone, he’d be in time-out until he settled, but sometimes that just winds him up longer.”

He lifted a hand, palm out. “No explanation needed. I feel like I started it anyway when I asked about the show.”

Micah was still grumbling, stomping toward the counter, eyeing the crackers as if his cuteness was his last hope. He’d give the kid an A for effort.

He scooped him up, held him sideways lying in the air and headed for the patio door. “Hey. I want to play outside. Don’t you?”

“Cracker,” Micah muttered, then let out a giggle when he jostled him some, his fingers wiggling into the toddler’s side for a little tickle.

“You can have them with dinner,” she said. “Or maybe Baker wants to play golf.”

He wrinkled his nose. Golf was thelastsport anyone would ever catch him playing.

“Golf,” Micah repeated, and giggled again, wiggling in his arms to get down.

He slid the glass door open and stepped outside. Micah immediately squirmed down and hurried to the large plastic toy bin on the patio, tugging at the lid with steadfast determination.

Micah couldn’t quite get it open on his own, but he sure as hell wasn’t giving up.

A good trait to have in a kid. Even an adult.

One he lost years ago and shouldn’t have.

Until Tasha walked into his life and he told himself it was time to put that shit where it belonged and at least try something again. Anything.

Micah huffed, his little hands straining against the plastic lid. He grunted like the effort alone might will it into opening.

He crouched beside him. “Do you want help?”

Micah paused, glanced at him, then nodded once firmly.

He lifted the lid until it caught and stayed up on its own. A small mountain of plastic trucks, balls, and mismatched outdoor toys greeted them, right next to the golf clubs.

Micah’s bad mood evaporated instantly.

“There you go,” he said. “Take your pick.”

He thought it’d be the golf club, but instead, Micah dove in with both hands, emerging victorious with the new dump truck. The toddler made a low rumbling sound under his breath and pushed it across the concrete with his eyes narrowed in deep concentration.

He sat in the chair watching. He didn’t rush him. Didn’t fill the space with useless chatter. Just stayed and let the kid do his thing.

After a moment, Micah pushed the truck toward him, stopping it right at his sneaker, then running over the toe.

“For you,” Micah said, then went back and got another truck for himself.

Something unexpected settled in his chest.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if the two of them hadn’t played like this before.

But this time it just felt... different.

“Thanks, buddy.” He took the truck and rolled it back, slower this time, matching Micah’s pace. “Mine’s hauling rocks.” He went to the side and picked a few up against the house. Just little white ones for decoration.

Maybe he shouldn’t start something new, but if he picked it up after, what was the harm?

Micah considered that, then took them out of Baker’s truck for his, so he got more and soon they were moving loads back and forth across the patio and dumping them into piles.

There were no more tears. No crackers. No drama.