Dorie Graham - Espresso In The Morning

“We’re going to have to find something else for you to do. I don’t know if Becca is up to having you stay there more than you do already. I hate to even ask her,” she said. “She’s so strict about their schedule and having it quiet when your uncle Kyle gets home. And you can’t be home alone.”

“Why can’t you be at home? You used to work from home all the time,” Grey said.

She didn’t answer as they moved down the counter. The quiet and isolation of being home were too hard for her. Cranking her music merely held the flashbacks at bay. If she ever stopped to think about the quiet behind the music...

“Maybe you can stay with Gram,” she said. “She’s always complaining she doesn’t see you enough. She wants you to visit some weekend, by the way—spend the night.”

“Gram?” Grey shook his head, his voice rising. “I don’t want to stay with Gram. I want to stay with you. At home. You can work from there, like you used to.”

Claire glanced at Lucas, embarrassed the man should witness her argument with her son. “This isn’t the time or the place,” she said to Grey. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“I don’t want to talk about it later,” Grey said. He swiped his sleeve across his face. “I’ll go stay with Gram this weekend if I have to, but I’m not staying with her after school. It doesn’t make sense.”

The sun streamed through the glass front door. Claire focused on the beam of light. If only she could dissolve into the sunshine, she wouldn’t have to deal with this. She turned to Grey and touched his shoulder, but he shook her off. Why couldn’t he just be happy with things the way they were?

“Grey,” she said, keeping her tone steady. “I’ll let Gram know you can stay Friday night. We’ll talk about the rest later. I have to think about whether I can work from home with you there or see if she’s okay with having you three afternoons a week. It’s a lot to ask.”

Grey stood stiffly beside her. “She won’t mind,” he said. “She likes hanging out with me.”

“Americano double shot, two pumps of vanilla, with room. I added a little whipped cream on top.” Lucas placed their drinks on the counter. “And a mocha java latte.”

With a nod, Grey scooped up his drink. He took a hesitant sip, then another longer one before saying, “I like it. Thanks.”

As Grey headed toward the door, Claire turned to Lucas. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “He’s just testing his boundaries.”

“Yes,” she said and glanced at her son, hovering inside the door, sipping his latte.

“I made it decaf. He should be okay.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “Caffeine isn’t what concerns me, though. It’s the quitting soccer.”

Lucas glanced at Grey. “Guess that depends on why he wants to quit.”

Her gaze settled on her son, still focused on his drink. “I think...he’s just tired.”

“Tired?” Lucas asked.

What was it about the man that had compelled her to even mention it to him? “We keep pretty busy, like I said, always on the go.” She hated admitting it. “I guess it’s too much for him.”

“I know we’ve had this conversation, but everyone needs downtime,” he said. “Even you.”

Heat flooded her. She settled her purse on her shoulder, readying to bolt. “You don’t really know me and we have had this conversation.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just that I can see you’re a good mother, Claire. And I can’t say that I’m an expert, or that I know anything about raising a kid, but I do know it isn’t easy. I can’t imagine doing it alone.”

“I appreciate your concern, Lucas, but I’m not entirely alone. My sister takes him some days after school.” She shrugged. “There’s my mom, too, and he has a friend he stays with sometimes. I trade off with his mom.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. It’s just that if Grey’s anything like I was—and I was raised by a single mom—I can understand your concern about him having too much free time. If his dad isn’t around, he could probably use a good male role model. Maybe someone from the Big Brothers Association could help with that.” He shrugged. “At least, I wish I’d had something like that when I was his age.”

Her gaze met his as she said, “Actually, that could be exactly what he needs. I’ll check it out, thanks.”

“Of course,” he said. “Just a suggestion.” He spread his hands and said, “I really don’t mean to butt in. I just... I was a little like Grey when I was a kid. My dad split early, thankfully, and it was just my mother and me. I might have avoided some of the...trouble I got into later if I’d had someone looking out for me.”

Something about his reference to trouble raised goose bumps of foreboding across her skin. She rubbed her arms. “I’ve been thinking about finding him someone like that. I’ll look into it.”

She motioned toward Grey. “I’d better get him to school.”

Lucas nodded, a smile curving his lips. “Okay, Claire,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

The timber of his voice saying her name again made her stomach flutter. She inhaled a steadying breath as she hurried toward Grey. She couldn’t be interested in Lucas. He was too strong, with those shoulders and arms of his. His thin T-shirt did little to hide the definition of his muscles. That much strength was dangerous.

She had to get herself together and figure out how to deal with Grey. She had way too much on her hands to think about a man for now, especially one that pushed her out of her comfort zone.

Everyone needs downtime. Even you.

If she could have downtime that didn’t make her jump out of her skin, she might be inclined to agree. But as things were, that just wasn’t going to happen.

CHAPTER FIVE

“DESTINATION ON YOUR left.” The monotone of the GPS was barely audible above the musical notes of Staind as Claire cruised along Edgewood Avenue in Atlanta that afternoon.

She peered at the building to her left. Rows of windows overlooked the street, concrete and glass in the heart of downtown. She found the entrance to the parking garage, her stomach knotting as she finally pulled into a spot.

She smoothed her skirt as she waited for the elevator at one end of the garage. When the doors opened, she saw a man in jeans standing to one side, his width taking half the space.

Her heart sped up as she hesitated, her fingers tingling. He pressed the button to stop the doors from closing. “Are you coming?”

Without speaking, she stepped in beside him, her gaze riveted on the panel of buttons, her pulse kicking up at his proximity. She hated this, how nothing more than sharing an elevator could send her anxiety through the roof. Within moments the door opened and she hurried into the lobby, the wide space and flurry of activity soothing her nerves.

I am safe. I am strong. No one can hurt me.

Five minutes later she stood in front of the receptionist’s counter at the Big Brothers and Big Sisters Association of Greater Atlanta. A young man with spiked hair greeted her.

“I’m Claire Murphy,” she said. “I’m here to see Doug Straighter.”

“I’ll let Mr. Straighter know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then settled in one of the chairs in the waiting area, shaking the tingling from her hands. The quiet of the place pressed in around her and her heartbeat accelerated again. Pain squeezed up the back of her head, thudding along her skull.

A few moments later a stocky, gray-haired man emerged from a side door. “Ms. Murphy, I’m Doug Straighter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His deep voice rumbled through her. She shivered and rubbed her arms as she stood. He extended his hand and she took it, even as her instincts urged her to withdraw.