Every Little Kiss (Sequoia Lake Book 2) Read online

  “He doesn’t need to warm up—he needs to toughen up,” Carolyn said, sounding more upset than angry. “And giving him these pep talks in front of his peers isn’t helping him any.”

  Liv gave her a big eyebrow raise. “Are you checking up on me again?”

  “Of course not!” Carolyn sounded offended, as if she hadn’t tailed Liv to the therapist’s office, only to interrogate the poor therapist about her grandson’s condition after they’d left. “I just asked the counselor when I picked him up if you were hovering.”

  Liv reached past the soda and grabbed the bottle of wine in the back. “What do you want me to do, slow the car down to a soft roll and kick him out?”

  “You can park, but maybe let him walk into the building himself. That’s what I did with Sam. He cried himself sick when I dropped him off at preschool, but instead of coddling him and rewarding the negative behavior, I gave him the confidence to handle it on his own. And I think Sam turned out just fine,” Carolyn said proudly.

  Sam had turned out to be a brilliant surgeon who was confident and resourceful and had this amazing ability to connect. It was what had drawn Liv to him in the first place. The way he could focus solely on one person, in the moment, made her feel special—safe. It was this intense tunnel vision that had allowed him to earn his patients’ trust and grow his practice so fast.

  But over time, he began to give so much of himself to his profession that there wasn’t enough left over for Liv and Paxton. A problem that was at the heart of nearly every argument they’d ever had.

  Including their last.

  Liv plucked a wineglass from the cabinet and sat at the counter. “Paxton isn’t like Sam. He’s his own person, and he needs to heal in his own time.”

  “Well, while he’s hiding away from everyone, the world is moving on. I just don’t want him to get left behind.”

  Liv wanted to point out that her son was probably hiding because of the awful tuna smell wafting from the oven, but she didn’t say anything. Mainly because she was too angry over the whole “world moving on” bit.

  Maybe for other people moving on was easier. For Liv, the journey had been painful and hard-earned, so she couldn’t fault her son for resisting. He hadn’t just lost his father—he’d lost half of his little world. And every step forward meant one step farther from that peaceful, happy time. Farther from the dreams and a future neither one of them wanted to say goodbye to.

  Her marriage might not have been perfect, but it was hers. And she’d loved Sam—even when he’d driven her crazy. She often wondered if that was the problem. That if things had been perfect before their time together had come to an end, if their family had been solid, then maybe moving on wouldn’t feel like such a betrayal.

  Liv had still been mourning the dreams she’d had for their marriage when the sheriff showed up on her doorstep and took a sledgehammer to the already splintered foundation.

  She was doing her best to piece together the fragments, but there were missing pieces, and she’d accepted that. Her world would never be the same, but at least it was starting to resemble something close to normal.

  A new kind of normal, Liv liked to think of it. They might not function like other families, but they’d both gotten dressed this morning and left the house. That constituted forward progress, in her book.

  “I know, and he’ll get there,” Liv promised. “It will just take longer and have a few more bumps in the road than most kids. But you had to have known that when you signed him up for the camp.”

  “I didn’t sign him up for that camp,” Carolyn said, as if horrified by the idea.

  Surprised by this information, Liv clarified, “You said he needed to go to camp, be around kids.”

  “Yes. Music camp or science camp, something that would give the boy structure, direction. Not a free-for-all fun day where the biggest achievement is who can belch the loudest.”

  Liv would be thrilled if Paxton won a belching contest, because that was what most six-year-old boys did. But right then, she was more interested in who had covered Paxton’s tuition. Needed to know why she’d received a letter from the local parks-and-recreation office stating that Paxton had been gifted a coveted spot in the summer camp. And why Carolyn had insisted on spending the summer here when she’d been so anxious to leave Sequoia Lake not so long ago.

  “So you didn’t pay for his camp as an early birthday present?” she asked, because if it hadn’t been Carolyn, then who was their fairy godmother?

  Ever since Sam’s death, little presents had shown up on Liv’s doorstep. Paxton’s birthday, Christmas, even Easter. It was never anything extravagant, just perfect little presents to make the holidays easier to swallow.

  Liv had asked her friends, coworkers, even the ladies from Living for Love, but everyone had sworn that they weren’t the secret Good Samaritan. The only person left was Sam’s mom.

  “Of course not. Had I known he’d be gone all day and I would be nothing more than a chauffeur, I would have planned more day outings with my friends.”

  “Carolyn, I didn’t intend for it to feel that way,” Liv said.

  “I know you didn’t, but I came here to spend a few weeks with my grandson, help him adjust before kindergarten.” Carolyn went silent, and Liv’s warning bells started ringing. “Not that it matters. He said he didn’t want to go back to camp.”

  Liv perked up. “He said that?”

  “Yes. Why do you sound so happy?”

  “Because he talked to you after a rough day. That’s huge!”

  Paxton had left with his dad a healthy, talkative three-year-old, excited for a white Christmas at his grandparents’. And he’d come home a boy who was terrified to speak.

  On rare occasions, when Carolyn had spent a significant amount of time with him, he’d speak to Liv in front of Carolyn. But he hadn’t communicated directly with Carolyn since before the accident.

  “He was talking to that dog of his. I was just the eavesdropper,” Carolyn admitted.

  “He was talking to you,” Liv said gently. “Using Superdog Stan is his way of working through his anxiety.”

  “You said the same thing when he insisted that a caped dog flew down from the sky to rescue him from the accident.” Carolyn’s tone was terse. Full of judgment.

  “That story is how his little brain dealt with such a tragic loss. He’ll outgrow it.” It was the same thing Liv had been telling herself since first hearing Paxton’s account of the rescue. If anything, he’d become more insistent that the imaginary dog was real.

  And that, more than his silence, worried Liv.

  “Well, something needs to change, because I told him not going back wasn’t an option.” Which would have made Pax feel even more anxious.

  “How did that go over?” Liv asked.

  “He locked himself in his room,” Carolyn said, busying herself with brushing imaginary dust off her cuff.

  “He works better with options.” And before Carolyn could regurgitate all the research on the safety created by setting boundaries and how effective tough love could be, Liv added, “But I’ll talk to him.”

  Compromise, Liv told herself. It was the only way they’d get through this as a family. Carolyn wasn’t trying to be difficult—she was just trying to help. She’d lost her son that day, and all she had left of him was Paxton. Liv could relate to her need to control.

  Liv poured herself a glass of wine. Carolyn raised a big questioning brow. “Oh, do you want a glass?”

  Carolyn looked horrified—and a bit judgy. “It’s not even five o’clock.”

  Liv looked at the clock—damn, only 4:25—and set the glass down. Plastering a smile on, she said, “Thanks for helping out today. He may not have expressed it, but he loves it when you come over.”

  “I love him and just want to see him flourish like . . .” Carolyn’s voice trailed off, and her face filled with heartache and worry. “Like a normal boy.”

  “I know,” Liv said, wanting the same thing bu
t unsure of what normal even looked like when a kid lost half of his world.

  With a shaky nod, Carolyn picked up her purse and keys off the counter. “I put a casserole in the oven, a scrapbooking flyer one of the moms gave me is on the fridge, and remember, I’m visiting with friends in Tahoe City for the next couple of days.”

  “Have fun.” Liv felt the air lighten, the sun grow brighter. Two whole casserole-free days on her forecast. “I swapped shifts with Margery so I can pick him up from camp.”

  Olivia thought about the other moms who would be there, most likely the same moms who had been in Paxton’s preschool, and she cringed. Maybe he could skip tomorrow. It wasn’t like George Washington had gone to superhero camp, and he’d created a nation.

  “Tell Paxton Grandma loves him and hopes he goes back to camp.”

  So much for playing hooky.

  “Will do. And Carolyn,” Liv said right as her mother-in-law was about to leave the kitchen, “I miss him too.”

  Carolyn paused on the threshold and slowly turned around. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it feels as if I’m the only one who’s still hurting.”

  “It will always hurt,” Liv said, her hand going to her ring finger, a brief moment of confusion still coming when she found it naked. Her heart racing as if she’d lost it. “But as time goes on, the hurt is what triggers the good memories.”

  The debilitating pain that made breathing difficult would lessen until it became a warm ping in the back of her heart. And it was only then that she’d realize that love didn’t hurt, but the act of trying to kill it did. And once Carolyn stopped trying to drown it out, she’d find her peace—just like Liv had after her mother died.

  Liv waited until Carolyn was pulling out of the driveway before fishing her cell from her purse. She took a long swallow of wine, then called backup.

  “How did camp go?” Avery said in greeting. Liv let out a sigh. “That bad, huh?”

  Telling herself that it was five o’clock somewhere, Liv took a sip of wine. “He’s hiding in his room.”

  “If I was forced to spend the afternoon with Carolyn, I’d hide in my room too.”

  Liv laughed, and it felt good. Then she immediately sobered. “It’s not that. He told her he didn’t want to go back to camp.”

  “What are you going to do?” When Liv remained silent, Avery said, “You know that he’s going to be fine no matter what, right? He will get through this because you’re a good mom, who will be right beside him every step of the way.” Avery’s conviction came from someone who had faced death and kicked its butt. They’d met the first week Liv had started at Mercy General. Liv had been working in the ICU, and Avery was waiting on a kidney transplant. They connected over shared loss of a loved one and bonded over a love of cupcakes. “And didn’t his doctor say that nearly all kids outgrow this?”

  “Yes,” Liv admitted. “But maybe holding his hand will prolong his healing time. Or maybe I’m pushing too hard too soon.” So what if he started kindergarten at seven? Why was that such a big deal? “Or what if I’m doing everything wrong?”

  “What if you’re both just having a rough day and all you need is some time to process?” Avery said, and Liv wanted to cry.

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I can’t be,” Avery said with conviction. “Because Paxton is loved. And he’s safe. And you will both come out of this stronger than ever.”

  Liv did love him, with every ounce of her soul, but she sometimes wondered if that was enough.

  Liv opened the oven to check the casserole. The second the scent hit her nose, she gagged and then slammed the door shut. “Want to come over after work for dinner? There’s plenty.”

  Avery paused. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a casserole involved?”

  “And wine,” Liv said cheerfully.

  “No way. I just got a new kidney.” Liv’s friend hadn’t just received a new kidney. The miracle transplant had given Avery a future that didn’t have an expiration date stamped on it. “Without a spare, I’m not willing to risk it. Life’s too short for one of Carolyn’s concoctions.”

  Words to live by, Liv thought, fanning the pungent air. When that didn’t help, she lit a candle.

  “Plus, I’m checking off another wish in my living journal. Rhonda Sparks spent all year working on a signature dish for that Sequoia Lake’s Hottest Chef contest, but she’s in the middle of her radiation treatments and can’t stand the smell of food. I said I’d use her recipe to perfect the meal and enter it for her.”

  Shortly after Avery was given a second lease on life, she’d created a living memory journal filled with the wishes and dreams of women who would never get their second chance. Living out their dreams was Avery’s way of honoring them—and paying forward all the love and support she’d received through her recovery.

  “What are you making?” Liv asked into the mouthpiece.

  “Rhonda said her favorite episode was when the person made a flat-iron steak with a red pepper sauce, cayenne sweet potato mash, and green beans with bacon,” she said. “I’m doing a practice run. My kitchen is a disaster, but the red pepper sauce is amazing.”

  Liv’s stomach growled at the thought of a home-cooked meal that didn’t involve canned fish. “If you need a judge—”

  A loud crash came from upstairs, followed by a child’s cry. Liv’s skin prickled, and all the exhaustion from earlier was replaced with heart-pumping adrenaline.

  “What was that?” Avery asked, since the sound was invasive enough to be heard over the phone. She might have even heard it across town.

  “Paxton,” Liv hollered as her feet sprang into action. She was up the stairs and rounding the hallway when she heard another scream. She burst through the bedroom door, her worry clogging her throat, and then she came to a full stop.

  Because there on the floor, peeking out from beneath a fort made of Superman sheets and a matching comforter, were two sock-free feet, a thin beam of light, and a big bushy tail—that moved. But it wasn’t the unexpected sight of a dog in her house that had her pausing. It was the sounds coming from inside the makeshift hideout.

  It was so foreign she had mistaken it for a cry for help, when in fact it wasn’t a cry at all.

  “Liv?” Avery said, and Liv could hear her friend’s keys jingling in the background, as if she was already heading over to the emergency.

  “It’s fine,” Liv said, her voice wavering. “Pax is. I thought he was screaming, but . . .” She trailed off, unable to speak through the sudden shift in emotion.

  “But what, Liv?”

  “He’s reading and laughing,” she whispered. From the empty juice box and cookie crumbs, she guessed that he’d somehow managed to sneak a few of Carolyn’s cookies into his room. “He’s in a fort with a dog, reading from his comic books and laughing.”

  Like a normal kid.

  “But before he can release the poison”—Paxton’s voice was muffled from beneath the covers—“Superdog flies through the air and says, ‘Drop the nuclear kibble, Mammoth Mutt!’ But Mammoth Mutt doesn’t. He sticks his big tooth right in the middle of the bag to rip it open when . . . bam! Superdog snags Mammoth by the collar and ties him to the telephone pole with a laser leash.”

  “Woof!” The tail-wagging increased with excitement.

  “I can hear him,” Avery whispered. “He sounds so happy.”

  “He does, doesn’t he?” Liv said, thinking about how withdrawn he’d been lately. She must have spoken too loudly because the reading stopped and so did the wagging.

  There was some movement inside, then a whole lot of commotion, and like a heat-seeking missile, a black nose poked out in Liv’s direction, followed by two wet, black eyes and the biggest ears Liv had ever seen.

  “Woof! Woof! Woof!”

  “When did you get a dog?” Avery asked.

  “We didn’t.”

  “Oh boy.” There was a silent pause where Liv could hear glass bottles clanking through the phon
e. “Carolyn, casserole, and another stray? I hope you have more than one bottle of wine to wash down this Monday.”

  Liv should have been furious. She and Paxton had decided that they’d wait until he was older to get a pet. Her son might be quiet, but that only gave him more time to plot and scheme. Which was how she’d wound up sharing a shower with a garden snake and her morning coffee with a raccoon who had moved into her pantry. If they didn’t have a serious talk, she was going to wind up sharing her bed with a mountain lion.

  For some reason the image of the big mountain man from that morning popped into her head, and she found herself smiling. An honest-to-God smile.

  Finding Superdog Stan posing as roadkill should have ruined her day. In the past it would have set her back ten steps. But a chance encounter with a charming man had changed all of that.

  It wasn’t the flirting, although that had been fun—a little too fun. It was how he’d looked at her, treated her, as if he thought she was interesting. As if she wasn’t broken.

  He didn’t ask her how she was holding up or if she was sleeping at night, because he didn’t know to ask her those things. Didn’t know her past. Which was a gift in itself because it allowed her a small glimpse of the woman she wanted to become—gave her hope that she was on the right track.

  And the confidence to apply for the Mobile Medic position.

  “You know what? I’m going to toast this Monday and celebrate it with pizza from Mile High,” Liv said.

  “Pizza?” Her son’s freckled face appeared where his feet had been, and then he smiled, big and bright and so beautiful. “What about Grandma’s tuna casserole?”

  “That depends,” Liv said, her tone dialed to litigation attorney.

  He went so serious she wanted to laugh. “On what?”

  “On if you’d rather have pizza with cupcakes afterward.”

  Paxton popped up on his knees, and the dog followed suit. Only the dog was so tall he pulled all the blankets up with him. “Lemon with raspberry frosting?”