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He asked it so hopefully that I couldn't help but assure him that I would be back soon. "And remember, if either one of you needs anything, I'm just a phone call away," I said, then mentally kicked myself for offering myself up so easily. What the hell was wrong with me?
Adam just smiled at me and murmured, "I'll remember that."
I waved goodbye to both of them and hightailed it out of there. I needed to get back to work, and I needed to get my head on straight. No more near kisses with the grumpy doctor, no more reliving the night that we spent together. It was time to put Adam out of my head once and for all. But I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to do that when I had just promised to be a part of his life by helping with Wolfgang.
I would just have to suck it up and make sure Adam understood that I was only doing this to help Wolfie…and then I needed to make sure that was the only reason I was actually doing it.
Miserably, I slipped my phone from my pocket and dialed a familiar and much-loved number as I hailed a nearby cab.
"Hey, Amy, I just wanted to thank you again for all the guidance for Wolf. Now, I need to ask for some other advice…how do I stop from having feelings for his guardian?"
Chapter eight
Adam
Wolfie had picked out a race car bed, and the room that I’d used as my at-home “office” was now the home of not only the aforementioned race car bed but a Pokémon bed set, along with everything of Wolfie’s that had finally arrived.
The weird thing was that I’d lived in my brownstone for years, I had spent many hours working on cases in this room, but seeing Wolfie in there now was the first time the room looked like what it was supposed to be. It was also the first time the whole place felt homey. Still, it was strange getting used to living with someone else, especially when that someone depended on me for their survival.
“Alright, Wolf-Man, it’s time to rise and shine.” I poked my head into his room. “The pigeons wait for no one, and they need to be fed,” I said, referring to our new routine of wandering to the park where we’d feed the birds and I would show Wolf the nearby sites. He was opening up slowly, but the nights were still rough. That was when he missed his parents the most. So, even though we tricked out his new bedroom, the air mattress/tent combo stayed up in the living room, just as a security measure for when Wolf was feeling anxious. We’d keep the TV on, and I would snooze on the couch right next to his tent. Often, he would fall asleep in there, and I would carry him to bed, then I would fall into an exhausted heap into my own bed.
As tired as I was, I couldn’t help but long for the comfort of someone next to me. Ah, who was I kidding, it wasn’t just anyone I was longing for—it was Reagan. I couldn’t help but think her annoying pragmatism would be a comfort. Hell, even the little notes and highlighted passages of that damn folder she’d made for me brought me comfort.
I padded quietly into Wolfie’s room, singing out in a goofy voice, “Wolfie, time to wake up, buddy. It’s Sunday, you don’t want to miss out on the old men playing chess and checkers in the park. It’s better than an MMA event.”
“I’m awake, but I don’t want to get up,” his voice said, muffled beneath his comforter.
I sat gingerly on the end of his bed. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” came his stubborn reply.
“Come on, Wolfie, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I asked in a cajoling voice, hoping that if I said it, then he would believe it. He could talk to me about anything. I wasn’t going to judge him. But it had only been a few days, so I knew it might take him a while to trust.
Can you blame him? When, at this very moment, Reagan may be hearing back from one of her leads for another suitable relative to take him?
I tamped down the tendril of panic this thought caused. I had to think about what was best for Wolfie, and just because I liked the kid, it didn’t mean I would be the best person to raise him, even if Veronica had seemed to think so.
Wolfie popped his head over the Pokémon comforter. “Uncle Adam, I don’t want to go to school tomorrow,” he said, his little brows drawn together in worried consternation. “Can’t I just stay out for the rest of the year? I can catch up next year,” he said hopefully. We’d been lucky that it was spring break for the school districts in the city right after Wolf arrived, so we’d had the whole week with just us. Nancy had helped me fill out the registration paperwork for the school Wolfie was zoned to attend, and he was set to start the next day. To be perfectly honest, I was tempted to just keep him with me for the moment, but I knew he needed to be around other kids, and the routine of school would only help him.
“I’m sorry, buddy, we can’t do that. But just think, you’re going to get to play with other kids and do stuff that’s way more exciting than watching me fill out patient reports,” I told him.
“No, I want to stay with you,” he said, and I could see the panic beginning to rise in his eyes.
What was becoming an all too frequent tightening around my heart squeezed yet again. “Hey, listen, I’ll never be too far away. As soon as you’re done with school, we’ll be together, and we’ll watch movies, and eat snacks, and play in the fort—whatever you want,” I promised him.
He did not look all that certain about what I was saying but reluctantly shoved back his covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “Do the old guys really fight over checkers?” he asked after a pause.
“Sometimes, they’ll throw the boards,” I told him.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Apparently, he liked the sound of that kind of action because he went to his dresser and picked out clothes for the day, calling out over his shoulder as he headed for the bathroom, “Can I have sugar puffs for breakfast again?”
“Whatever you want, buddy,” I called back, thinking I should really get a healthier breakfast option for the kid, but at that moment, I was just thrilled to have something he wanted that transformed that worried expression on his face to one of anticipation and contentment.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my sweatpants. My heart did a maddening gallop when I saw it was a text message from Reagan.
Reagan: How are things going over there?
Me: We’re alright. He’s a little—okay, a lot freaked out about school starting tomorrow. Can’t blame him, though.
