Page 56 of Broken
“I only touch my wee wee.”
“Let’s wash now and argue later.”
Strangely, that made Ethan giggle. He washed his hands, somehow managing to get water all over the vanityandthe floor.
Next stop, finding him a toothbrush. Upstairs they traipsed, where Prescott found a new, soft-bristled one from his dentist and helped Ethan brush his teeth.
Ethan’s wild hair needed to be tamed. Using a hair brush, Prescott did his best, but Ethan kept saying, “Ouch,” so Prescott gave up.
Back in the kitchen, Ethan climbed into the booster chair Sally had brought with them. “Where’s Mommy?”
“She wasn’t feeling well, so she went to the doctor,” he replied, then added, “Ethan, do you like eggs?”
Prescott’s mom and dad entered the room. His dad went straight to the coffee machine, but Prescott hadn’t made any yet. His mom made coffee while his dad started opening cupboards.
“Whatcha need, Dad?” Prescott asked.
“I’ll make eggs. Where’s your bread so Mom can make toast?”
Prescott wasn’t used to so many people cooking in his kitchen.
His phone buzzed with a text from his brother. “We got home late last night. Addison’s sleeping. I’m watching her sleep.”
Prescott chuckled. “Addison’s home,” he told his parents.
“That’s a relief,” his mom replied. “How’s she doing?”
“Nicky said she’s sleeping.”
“I want cereal,” Ethan blurted.
Prescott pulled out all the cereal boxes from his pantry and set them on the table. Ethan examined all of them. “I don’t like.”
“This is all I’ve got,” Prescott said.
“Nooooooo!” Ethan wailed. “I want my yummy bites.”
Prescott filled the sippy cup with fresh juice, added a little water. “This is sweet. Drink this, then take a bite of cereal. You won’t know the difference.”
“No!”
The back and forth continued until his dad appeared with a bowl of scrambled eggs. His mom had several slices of toast piled on a plate.
“What about honey?” she asked. “That’s sweet.”
“You can’t give a child honey,” Prescott said.
“You can’t give aninfanthoney,” his dad corrected him.
Prescott was at a loss. He knew absolutely nothing about children. On top of that, he’d hardly slept wondering how the hell he’d find the ALPHA Killer.
After Prescott phoned his assistant at Armstrong and let her know he was taking a personal day, he returned to the table.
Ethan hadn’t eaten any eggs, he hadn’t chosen a cereal, and he refused to eat the, now-cold toast, slathered in honey. Prescott needed him to eat, so he could move on with his day.
“Lemme see your muscle,” Prescott said to him.
Instead, his dad flexed like Hercules, and Ethan giggled.
