“Well, maybe pause to knock next time.”
I would’ve been annoyed at Jensen’s tone, but I could see tears glittering in her eyes. “I’ll try to remember to knock before barging in to save the day next time. But it really does kind of put a damper on the whole hero vibe I was trying for.”
She let out a small laugh and wiped under her eyes. “Hero, breaker and enterer, same difference.”
I grinned. “Brat.”
“Behemoth.”
I held up the bags, feeling like a total idiot. “I brought you something.”
Jensen eyed the packages. “Is something going to jump out and bite me?”
She wasn’t totally out of place to ask. Walker and I had played more than one prank on her growing up. “There’s only one way to find out.” I held out the bags.
Jensen shook her head and gestured with her hands to her shirt covered with splatters of food. “Let me clean up real quick.” Her eyes flicked to a plate of food that now lay scattered across the floor and then to the stairs, her cheeks reddening. “Sorry about that. I told Noah I couldn’t take him to this karate tournament he wants to watch next week, and he wasn’t too happy about it.”
I took a step forward, fisting my hands around the handle of the bags. The desire to pull Jensen into my arms was so strong. “He didn’t mean it.”
She let out a sniff. “I know.” Crashing and banging sounded from upstairs. “Shit. I’d better go up there.”
I set the bags on the table. “Let me?”
Jensen paused for a moment and then nodded. “Good luck.”
I jogged up the stairs and headed for Noah’s room. Pushing open the door, destruction greeted me. Toys, books, and stuffed animals littered the floor. “What’s going on, little man?”
Noah glowered at me and threw himself on his bed. “I hate her.”
I eased down onto the mattress. “That’s a pretty ugly word, bud. I’d say the ugliest.”
“She’s ruining my life.” The words were muffled since his face was shoved into a pillow. “All my friends are going to the tournament. Their moms can take them, why can’t mine?”
My chest tightened. “I’m guessing your mom has to work?”
Noah slammed his little fist against the bed. “Yeah. I hate the freaking Kettle, too!”
I leaned back against the wall. “It sucks that you can’t go to the tournament. There’s no way around that.”
“Yeah.”
I pushed on. “But don’t you think your mom wants you to go?”
Noah turned his head so that he could see me. I could read in his expression that he hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know.”
“Your mom loves you so much. And she wants all the good things for you. But to be able to give you all those things, she has to work.” I paused for a moment, unsure what I was about to say. But Noah was getting older, and he needed to hear it. “When you have one parent instead of two, they have to work twice as hard to give you all the good.”
Guilt flashed across Noah’s expression. “I didn’t think about that.”
I reached over and patted his back. “That’s okay. We all have times when we don’t think about others as much as we should. All we can do is learn from it and try to do better. Think you can do that?” Noah nodded. “Why don’t you pick up your room and then come downstairs and apologize to your mom?”
Noah’s head bobbed up and down again. “Maybe I should make her an I’m-sorry card.”
I bit back a grin. “I think that’s a great idea. But clean this mess up first, okay?”
“’Kay, Tuck.”
“Good man.”
