Kayla’s question took Paul by surprise and he looked at her blankly. It was dark, and Davey and a couple of his friends were leaning on the low railing that fronted the bay, watching the boat parade. Kayla and Paul sat on a bench behind them.
It was chilly enough that he could see his breath. The small, jolly crowd was decked out in bright Christmas sweaters and scarves, and a street band played “Deck the Halls.” Smoke from a bonfire scented the air.
And his date had noticed that he was more interested in someone else than her. Nice. He looked at her closely, trying to read whether she was upset. “It’s obvious?”
Kayla raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. “Uh, yeah. Very.”
“I’m really sorry.” He shook his head. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked you out when...” He couldn’t finish. When I’m half in love with someone I can’t have?
“It’s fine.” She shrugged philosophically, lifting both hands, palms up. “I have bad luck with men. And I shouldn’t necessarily date a parent, either.”
“I feel like a jerk.” He really did like Kayla. She was a great person, a wonderful teacher, pretty and kind. She’d be a great girlfriend. In fact, he couldn’t figure out why she was single.
The only problem for Paul was, she wasn’t Amber.
Kayla leaned back against the bench, studying him. “Why aren’t you dating her? Pretty sure she’s crazy about you, too, from the way she reacted to seeing us together.”
Paul opened his mouth to answer when everything exploded around them. Flashing lights and the sound of gunfire, and he leaped off the bench to get to Davey.
“Paul! What’s wrong?”
Take a breath, he told himself as he clung to the railing by Davey for dear life. Figure out what’s really going on. The words from his support group tried to hammer their way into his head.
Maybe it wasn’t gunfire. Because he could look around and see that really, people were staying put, not running. They talked and laughed and pointed up at the beautiful fireworks in the sky.
He was just having an attack. His heart raced out of control and he was breathing hard and in his head, he could see people running and hear kids screaming and smell something sulfur-like.
Kayla stood beside him, rubbing his arm. “Paul! Paul, are you okay?”
He shook the hand off his arm, trying to catch his breath, trying to keep control. So far, Davey hadn’t noticed his panic. He tried not to touch his son, not wanting to scare him.
“Paul. It’s Kayla. Breathe. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.”
He tried to do what Kayla told him. It was what his counselor said, too. But the popping and explosions and flashes kept on.
“Let’s go,” Kayla said. “Come on, Davey. We’re going home.”
“Davey.” Now he couldn’t help reaching for his son. He felt his scrawny shoulders, looked at his upset face. He was okay. Davey was okay.
Kayla tugged at his arm with one hand and squeezed Davey’s shoulder with the other. “Let’s go. No, honey, we can’t stay until the end, but when we get back to your house, I have a surprise for you. Come on. Let’s race-walk to the car.” Kayla’s voice was soothing, and then they were walking away.
“I want fireworks!” Davey’s voice was a high whine.
“I know, buddy.” Paul had to normalize himself for Davey, but he could barely speak amidst the booms and pops and flashes, could barely keep himself from grabbing Davey and running for cover.
By the time they reached Kayla’s car, he’d started to come down. Which, unfortunately, meant that he was shaking, but he felt he needed to assert his manhood and keep this from being the absolute worst date the poor woman had ever had. “I can drive Davey and myself home,” he said.
“No, you can’t. Get in.” She opened the back door for Davey. “See, I even have a booster seat for just this type of occasion.”
With Davey in the car, Paul had no choice but to get in, too. Truthfully, he was glad to have a little help right now.
Behind them, people were still oohing and aahing over the fireworks, but the street around them was quiet and deserted. Kayla played classical music on the radio as she drove the five minutes to Paul’s cottage.
“I’m sorry.” He kept his voice low so Davey wouldn’t hear. “I had a rough therapy session yesterday and I was warned it might kick some things up.” He’d also had it recommended that he go to a retreat this weekend for police and military PTSD sufferers, but he’d declined. His therapist didn’t understand what it was like to be a single dad. He couldn’t easily get childcare he trusted for his son, not for a whole weekend.
But Paul wasn’t exactly a contender for Father of the Year now. Maybe his therapist had understood him better than he’d realized.
Kayla pulled into his driveway and turned off the car. “No need to apologize for something that’s not your fault,” she said. “Let me help you get Davey to bed.”
“You said you had a s’prise.” Davey’s voice was sulky and sleepy both.
“I do.” She reached into the glove box and pulled out a toy from a kids’ fast-food meal. “You can have it when you get into bed.”
“Okay.” Davey didn’t thank her, but neither did he inform her that he already had two of the same toy, which seemed like admirable restraint in an almost five-year-old.
Paul drew in a deep breath and let it out. Thinking about your kid’s manners seemed so normal. He was returning to normal.
Paul carried Davey inside and upstairs and tucked him in, and Davey was asleep within two minutes. When he came back downstairs, Kayla was sitting on the couch.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to wait,” he said. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I’ll take a bottle of water, a pillow and a spare toothbrush.” She was kicking off her shoes.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m
