Page 115 of Challenge Me

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I assured her. “If it makes you feel better, I’m the one who needed the restraining order, not the other way around.”

Her smile was warm as she touched my arm. “I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“You shouldn’t do that. The best thing you can ever do is trust your instincts.”

Though she looked surprised, it quickly shifted to amusement. “You’re an odd one. My instincts say you’re not a bad guy, though.”

“I appreciate that. Truly.”

“I’m going to check in with Amir before I leave. Are you two alright?”

“Good,” Mal replied.

“You should give your mom a hug before she goes,” I said.

“Already did.”

I shot her a look, which earned me an eye roll. After only a second, she stood and wrapped her arms around Avery, whose demeanor lightened noticeably.

Once Avery slipped through the back door, I dropped back onto the couch with a groan.

“Is this when you say not to grow up because being an adult is hard?” Mal asked.

I let out a laugh and tipped my head back to look at the ceiling. “No. Just make better decisions than me and life will be easier.”

“Did my dad make bad decisions, then?”

“Doubtful. I said easier, not easy. Besides, he’s a bit of a square, so there’s that.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Squares are math.”

“Speaking of that unholy abomination, I have a better alternative. Baseball.” When she looked confused, I nodded toward the backyard. “Can you hit a ball? Kids like that stuff, right?”

“Can’t.”

“Oh. So much for your dad raising you in his image.”

She let out an annoyed sound. “I can bat. But math first.”

“Why, pray tell, does math have to come first?”

“Come.”

Not having a good excuse to refuse, I got to my feet and followed her into the dining room. She set her notebook on the table, then opened the doors of a hutch against the wall. When she pulled out a large chalkboard, almost the size of her, I hummed.

“Are we making offerings to the math gods? I’m not familiar with them, but I’m a charming guy, so I bet we’ll get along.”

She leaned the board against the table. “Schedule.”

“Ah, I see.” The whole thing was a calendar, and there was writing in each of the squares. During the week, there were assignments and sometimes appointments and the like. Amir’s games were all lined up for the month, color-coded for away and home. There were stars marking some days and moons on the others. I pointed at them. “What are these?”

“Dad’s days.” She touched the star. “Mom.” The moon.

“How very organized of you. Does it help?”

She nodded. “I have the same one at Mom’s house.”

“And where does Mom live?”