Wanting to Love You by Erin Rylie

Wanting to Love You by Erin Rylie

Author:Erin Rylie [Rylie, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-17T16:00:00+00:00


The last thing Reese wanted to do was mess up his chance to spend time with Ryker the next morning, so although he didn’t sleep well at all, he made sure to be out of bed by five-thirty sharp so that he could get changed and be in the kitchen before his son woke up.

He was in the kitchen making scrambled eggs when Ryker came in, groggily rubbing his eyes and sitting in a chair at the table. His son yawned deeply, rubbed his right eye one final time, and then looked around the kitchen, his eyes landing on Reese.

“What are you doing here?”

A genuine smile bloomed on Reese’s face for the first time in days—it was such a Jesse thing to say. “Well, I was upset that I missed dinner last night, so I wanted to come over this morning and have breakfast with you.”

“How did you get into our house?”

Reese was scrambling for an answer when Becky saved the day by entering the kitchen. She walked right over to Ryker, placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and squeezed, and then took her own seat at the table. She was fully dressed for work in a black button-down tucked into navy blue cigarette pants. The ensemble was simple, but did great things to her figure. He looked away quickly before his too observant son noticed Reese staring at his mother.

“I let Reese in while I was getting ready for work and you were still in bed, sleepyhead.”

Ryker stared at Becky for a few moments, as though trying to gauge the sincerity in her statement before giving a short nod.

“What are you making me for breakfast?”

Reese laughed then, and though it was genuine, it sounded strained even to his own ears. “Well I made us scrambled eggs and toast. Is that okay?”

“Mommy usually makes us oatmeal. Do you know how to make oatmeal?”

Becky chided Ryker gently in response. “Reese already made us breakfast, honey. I don’t think it would be very nice of us to ask him to make something else.”

Their son was silent for a moment, his eyes moving from the food Reese was finishing preparing, to the cabinet where he assumed Ryker’s oatmeal was kept, and back to Becky. “Okay, can you make us oatmeal, Mommy?”

“Why don’t you try the food Reese made?”

Ryker’s hands started to flutter lightly on his lap. Reese wasn’t sure Becky could see them from her vantage point, but he was positive she could see the frustration written plainly on their son’s face.

“You know, Ryker, I was actually planning to make oatmeal, I just haven’t started yet because I wasn’t sure how you like yours.”

The smile that Ryker flashed Reese made his entire morning, his entire week, possibly his entire year. He longed for mornings like this. He wanted to wake up every morning to make his son breakfast; he wanted to be involved in Ryker’s school life, help with his homework, coach the soccer team if Ryker turned out to be athletically inclined.



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