Kristina Knight - Breakup In A Small Town

“With caramel?” Garrett asked, rocking up to his tiptoes and clasping his hands together.

“Sure.”

“Cut up, no peel,” he said.

Frankie sighed. “You know I’m not allowed to use the knives.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Adam said.

Frankie sighed again, and this time shook his head. “You’re not allowed, either, Dad. No sharps because of the seizures.”

“Cutting up an apple for your brother isn’t going to give me a seizure.” And he could damn well do one normal thing today.

Frankie pressed his back to the cabinet drawer holding the knives. “It’s against the rules.”

Adam gritted his teeth. “I can cut up an apple for a snack,” he said, putting steel into his voice and hating himself for it. He’d never raised his voice to the kids, not once, before the tornado. Now, it was as if he couldn’t make it through a single conversation without getting angry. He clenched his hands around the arms of the wheelchair and stood up again.

Adam limped across the kitchen, picked up his son and set him aside, then drew a small paring knife from the drawer. He put the apple on the cutting board and set the knife, but before he could make the first cut, the back door opened and his kids were off like shots through the kitchen.

“Mom, Dad’s using a knife!”

“It’s against the rules,” Garrett hollered. “I don’t want Daddy to sheeshur because of the knife, Mama.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Jenny’s soothing voice washed over him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you guys up at school today. How was the bus?”

No answer from either of the kids. Adam sliced the knife through the apple and was rewarded with a perfectly halved green Granny Smith.

“Well? How was the bus?” Jenny asked, and he could hear her heels on the hardwood floor. He continued slicing until he had eight even pieces and then began peeling.

“We missed the bus,” Garrett finally said, his voice quiet.

“It’s okay, though. I walked us home. It wasn’t that far,” Frankie said, the words coming in a rush.

“You...” Jenny was quiet for a moment and Adam pictured her running her hands through her hair as she gathered her thoughts. “Okay, well, in the future, don’t walk if you miss the bus. Just call Buchanan’s and I’ll come get you.”

“I don’t like the bus,” Garrett said. “Those big kids are mean.”

“It isn’t a far walk, Mom. And I’m practically eight now.”

And until the tornado had sidelined Adam from work, Jenny had picked up the kids every day at school. Things were different now, he reminded himself. Just one more reason to let them get on with their lives. Without him.

“You won’t be eight until next summer. That’s more than six months away. And your age isn’t the point, kiddo. The point is you’re supposed to ride the bus. Was this ‘miss’ intentional?”

Though his back was to his family, Adam could picture Jenny with her arms crossed over her chest, looking from Frankie to Garrett with her pretty blue eyes narrowed and calculating. She’d hone in on Garrett as the weak link.

The kids didn’t answer. Adam turned from the counter to her, back to him, just as he’d imagined. Garrett looked to Frankie, who stared right back at him. Neither said a word, but that look said everything. Yeah, an intentional miss.

Jenny watched them a moment longer, but when it became apparent neither would answer the question, she shook her head slowly, then knelt before them. “What did we talk about when school started? I have to stay at the warehouse now until three thirty. That means a bus ride home. Teamwork, right? You guys ride the bus, I meet you here.”

Frankie scuffed the toe of his untied shoe against the tile. “It isn’t fair.”

Jenny looked at Garrett, who scooted a little closer to his older brother. “We don’t like the bus,” he told her.

“The bus is the best option we have until Uncle Aiden gets into town in a few days. Papaw is busy with the guys in the workshop, and Mamaw is dealing with the phones and office stuff while I deal with the warehouse shipments. It’s just for a little while longer. Okay?”

Frankie shrugged, and Garrett looked at the floor. “Guys?” she asked.

Frankie nodded, and Garrett followed suit.

Adam held the plate out. The kids took it to the table and began to eat.

“Uncle Aiden will be here at the end of the week, and maybe once he’s settled, we’ll figure out a new schedule. Until then, it’s the bus after school.” The kids nodded, but kept their attention focused on the table. “I mean it, boys.”

Jenny pushed past Adam and began to clean the apple peels off the counter. She rinsed the cutting board and small knife. She didn’t even look at Adam. “You shouldn’t be standing on that knee. You know what the doctor said.”

Of course he knew what the doctor said. The words that damned man said circled around in Adam’s mind all day long. Don’t put undue pressure on the knee. Even the smallest twist or turn could set back his recovery, especially since they couldn’t perform the needed surgery on his leg until the epilepsy was under control.

“Cutting an apple isn’t putting my knee under any stress.”

“Walking on tile and hardwood is.” Jenny kept her voice even, but shot him a sharp look then motioned to the living room. She held the handles of the wheelchair expectantly, but Adam was damned if he was going to sit back in that thing and be talked to like he was a seven-year-old. He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee as he moved. When they were out of earshot of the kids, she said, “And what if you’d had another episode? With a knife in your hand? And the boys in the house?”

“It’s a paring knife, Jen. It’s not going to kill me.” And nothing had happened, so what was the big deal?

“It’s a sharp blade, and it will cut no matter how little it is.”

“Whatever.”

“Stop giving me that answer, Adam. You know your limitations—”

“Peeling an apple for my kids isn’t going to kill me, Jenny.” He threw his arms to the side. “Neither is walking around in my own home instead of wheeling myself in that damned chair.” He pivoted, and pain wrenched through his leg when his Nike caught on the hardwood. His knee gave out, and as he fell to the floor, he saw horror flit over Jenny’s face as she rushed across the room. She cradled his body against hers the way she might hold one of their kids, and that annoyed him more than the pain in his knee hurt. He wasn’t a damned child. He didn’t need a damned babysitter.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing as she ran her hands over his denim-clad leg. Once upon a time, a touch like that from her would have him hard and ready to take things into their bedroom. He pushed away the heat that flashed through him at her touch. Neither of them needed him acting like a horny teenager right now. “I don’t feel anything out of position. Let’s get you up.” She helped him to the chair.

“Stop, just stop,” he said, when she started running her hands over his leg again. He didn’t think he could keep pushing away his physical reaction to her, not when she was this close to him. Not when he could hear her breathing take on that ragged edge. Part of him wanted her reaction to him. The other part, the smart part, knew physical attraction wouldn’t do either of them any good. Not when his body was out of his control. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. “I don’t need a nursemaid. I twisted the knee—it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she said, but she stepped away from him, shoving her hands into the pockets of her pink capri pants. “It’ll be okay, though. Aiden will be here on Friday. I’ll figure out a new schedule for the kids, and for you. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay,” she said again, and didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m just going to check on the boys.” She disappeared down the hall.