My Darling Mayhem
: Chapter 9

“Are you going to call the police?” Cruz whispered while staring through the back window at our broken fence.

I was so angry that my hands shook.

“No. Police won’t fix this.”

As we spoke, Archer was yelling at various men to leave. The man who’d run through the fence looked ashamed. His tall, burly stature seemed to nearly curl in on itself as Archer yelled at him. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten hurt; no one did—just my fence.

Cruz had been in the living room, watching cartoons when I explained that I would stop next door to ask Archer what all the noise was about. I had left my door locked and the landline next to him so he could call me if he was worried, but I was right next door and had only been gone for a few minutes.

Still, I hated myself for that split second of fear he had felt when he heard the motorcycle burst through the fence. I hated the look on his face when he’d opened the front door, crying, meeting me halfway down the driveway, unsure of what was going on.

I had picked him up and tried my best to soothe him, but my mind kept casting horrific visions of what could have happened if my son had been outside. It was unlikely because I had left, and Cruz never went outside when I walked to get the mail or even went out front to water the plants. He knew our system, but still…what if I hadn’t gone over to Archer’s and Cruz had gone outside?

What if he’d gotten hurt?

The spiral of what-ifs thrummed through me like a snapped guitar string. Every time I tried to stop, it would snap back front and center.

My son watched as the people next door collected pieces of fence and debris. “Archer will fix it; I know he will.”

I didn’t comment, knowing my temper wouldn’t allow me to say anything nice. Even after the moment we had, where he seemed so affected by what I had said last week. Or how I had revealed that I noticed his absence and wanted to continue our question game.

My arms were still crossed over my chest, watching from the living room window with Cruz when there was a gentle knock at our back patio door.

Archer stood there, head lowered, jaw working. He was upset, which was good because I was too.

Cruz jumped up and ran to the door to pull it open. Regardless of what I said about safety, even at this moment, my gut still didn’t give off any warning vibes about my neighbor. I knew Archer was upset about what had happened and would never intentionally put Cruz in danger.

I allowed Cruz to open the door as I stood back a few feet, still guarded and upset.

“Hi, Archer.” Cruz tipped his head back and greeted our neighbor excitedly.

Archer smiled at my son, and seeing how genuine it seemed was like a hit to my chest, leaving me reeling for entirely different reasons.

“Hey bud, how are you?”

Cruz hung on the door handle. “I’m good. I was scared when the motorcycle hit the fence, though.”

Archer’s demeanor shifted entirely. He dipped his head while shame slipped over his face. I hated how it looked on him. The regret so potent that it made my stomach churn.

“I’m really sorry about that, Cruz.” Archer lifted his face, his eyes replaceing mine. “I should have known better than to allow my friends to come over. Things got out of hand, and I—” His voice cracked, which had something in my chest cracking too.

I spoke up, taking over the conversation. “Why don’t you come inside.”

“Mom just made cookies.” Cruz ran over to the counter excitedly.

Archer tucked his hands into his pockets while peeking over his shoulder outside. “I actually should probably head back. I don’t want to bother you guys any more than I already have. I only came over to tell you that I’ll have a crew out here tomorrow to frame that piece of fence, and it should be finished by the end of the week.”

My son’s little eyebrows dipped to the center of his forehead before glancing up at me. I knew he was trying to work out what Archer meant.

“Are you going to come in and try our cookies? I helped with them.”

I laughed at how Cruz completely ignored everything Archer said.

“Cruz, don’t pressure him.”

Archer’s eyes snapped up. “I don’t want to impose.”

We seemed to both silently communicate something as we stared at one another. I was pissed at him, at his choices, and I was viscerally angry about the fence. But underneath that, some strange part of me also wanted him to stay. I felt like our conversation from earlier wasn’t finished like there was more I wanted to say, and I needed him to tell me.

“This recipe is my mother’s…she cuts the larger chunks of chocolate up, and we use the fat flakes of salt.”

The glass slider slowly closed as he silently accepted the invitation. Archer looked down at his feet as if he wanted to ask if he should slip out of his boots.

Cruz pulled on his wrist. “You can keep them on.”

I followed both boys as they moved into the kitchen. Archer’s waist met the counter as he leaned over and washed his hands. It was so weird watching him do something as mundane as hand washing. Once he was finished, he twisted to dry his hands on the homemade towel my abuela had made me when I was a teen. His expression softened as he patted his hands dry, and his unguarded eyes met mine again.

It felt like his gaze prodded and inspected for some personal thing I’d be willing to share. With a blink, I turned away.

“Here, you should have one with milk.”

I handed him a cookie with a napkin, then turned to grab the milk from the fridge.

Archer accepted and brought the cookie up to his mouth while watching me. He was a few chews into his first one when his eyes closed, and he moaned. “These are the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Why did I suddenly picture him between my legs, tasting me and saying that exact same thing?

“Mom makes these whenever she misses my grandma,” Cruz said, looking at me sympathetically.

“You don’t see her often?” Archer asked, finishing off the rest of his cookie and milk. Cruz hurriedly moved to the fridge to grab the carton again.

“No, she lives in North Carolina. She came for Cruz’s birthday last year, but since then, no.”

Archer took the milk from my son with a smile before pouring himself more. Cruz filled in all the remaining details I didn’t necessarily want to share.

“We never go see her, though, because she lives in the same city as my uncle, and we don’t see him because he’s making poor choices right now.”

My chest seized as I snapped. “Cruz!”

His face crumpled into a wince. “But we don’t talk about it with strangers.”

Archer’s lips quirked up as if he already knew what my son was about to work out.

“But you’re not a stranger!”

“Cruz, talking about familial things with new acquaintances is still not polite.”

My son came over and threw his back against the front of my body, so I had to catch him. He did that often, and it always felt like he was having random trust falls with me.

“What’s a new acq—acquent.” He tilted his head back, silently asking me for help.

Archer stared at the tray of cookies as if he wanted to go in for another but was holding back. Then he glanced over at us with a smile. “She just means new friends, Cruz. Sometimes, we have to give our new friends a little time to be in our lives before we share really personal things with them.”

Cruz started rambling off details about the school week that Archer had missed, which somehow had him moving to the little stool under the counter’s lip. The two talked about the week, and Archer shared that he’d gone to an old friend’s funeral in Virginia. I moved around the counter to start washing dishes. Archer glanced up a few times as he talked with my son, but I liked that they were talking.

Cruz only lasted about twenty minutes before he was up and asking if he could show Archer his room and the toys he couldn’t wait to show Kane.

Archer hesitated, glancing over at me.

“Cruz, Archer might need to return to his friends. We can’t keep him captive.”

Archer laughed, covering it with his hand as his eyes found my floor, then traveled up my legs, softly landing on my chest and face. “I sent them all home. When I go back, it’ll be to an empty house, so if you don’t mind…I don’t.”

Nodding, I turned back toward the counter to calm down. My face was on fire, and my heart felt like it was hammering out a warning not to be stupid about letting Archer anywhere near it.

I could hear Cruz talking from the hall, going on and on about his latest car track, which he used to launch his Hot Wheels. I knew what was about to come next.

Suddenly, there was a thumping sound, and Cruz ran into the living room, his arms overloaded with orange tracks.

“We’re going to build a racecar track, Mom! Archer said he used to play with these when he was a kid.”

Archer moved around Cruz, helping him take the tracks and link them together. The room filled with the sounds of cars flying down the tracks and my son laughing so hard that he nearly fell backward. An uninhibited smile stretched across my face, and I looked over and saw one on Archer’s face, too. Cruz’s laugh was infectious; any time he giggled, it was like a dopamine hit.

I let them play for another ten minutes while I made Cruz’s lunch for tomorrow, and then I moved to the chair across from where they were playing.

“Cruz, it’s time for you to brush your teeth.” He’d already bathed right after dinner, so he only had one step left. I usually read him a bedtime story, but we’d done that too when I needed a distraction from Archer finally returning.

Cruz ignored me, pushing his car along the track before finally sighing and looking up at Archer. “How come Kane doesn’t live with you? Is it because he’s at your mom and dad’s?”

Archer slowly moved, collecting little toy cars. “Kane lives with a family right now…they’re helping until he can live with me permanently.”

Cruz tilted his head. “Why doesn’t he go live with his mom and dad?”

“Well, it’s like you…how you live with your mom. Kane’s mom passed away shortly after he was born.”

I felt like my breathing was too loud. One wrong move, and he’d stop sharing free little details about his life.

“So his dad is bad like mine?”

Archer gave my son a soft smile. “Kane and I share the same dad…and he’s bad. It’s important to me that Kane doesn’t go live with him. I want to keep him safe and ensure no one ever hurts him.”

With another sigh, Cruz dumped his cars into a little plastic tub he kept in the living room. “You’re a good dad.”

Archer winced as if someone had just splashed water on his face. His lashes fluttered as he cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “Just a decent big brother.”

“But you’d make a good dad too. I bet Kane thinks so.”

I moved to help intervene and stop the flow of conversation, especially because Archer’s jaw was tense, like he’d just been asked to chew on a pile of rocks. My son had struck a chord somewhere in him, and part of me wanted to let him sit with whatever it was because parenting did that to you. It was like a splash of cold water in the face all the time, and kids were blunt.

“Okay, bedtime. Say goodnight to Archer.”

I expected Cruz to wave, but he walked forward and threw his arms around Archer’s neck, clinging to him tightly. “Thank you for playing with me.”

Archer raised his hand to Cruz’s back and patted while glancing at me.

My breath had seemingly got trapped in my lungs, so I turned around and cleared my throat.

“Come on, buddy.”

“I’ll just head home and see you tomorrow, Wren.” Archer stood behind me while Cruz darted around me and grabbed my hand.

I should have said goodbye or said I’d see him later, but instead, I peeked over my shoulder. “I actually need to talk to you about the fence if you wouldn’t mind waiting.”

Walking toward Cruz’s bedroom, I ignored the beating in my chest as well as whatever expression Archer might have had on his face.