Reasons

Chapter 33

Rylie's POV

"Syrup, why did you think daddy became a comet?" Marcus whispers, forming lines on a sheet of paper that he refused to let me see until he was finished. His glasses almost fell off his face as he leaned forward to attempt to grab a color. I handed him the violet marker to allow his to continue him masterpiece.

I lean back into my beanbag chair and run one single hand through my hair. "He felt as if it was his time to go," I answer carefully. Marcus didn't appear to be fazed by the loss of his father; I had to give the kid props.

Marcus glances over at me and gives me a look. For a six year old, he was wise.

"No he didn't. I talked to him before he dropped me off at school. He told me he was perfectly fine and everything was right in his world," he announces, capping the violet shaded marker and switching to an orange. "Move to the side a little bit," he instructed. His serious face was too cute. I moved to one side, but he instantly frowned and placed his hands on my shoulders to move me to the other side. "There. Stay there. Say cheese squeeze," he tells me. I giggle; he narrows his eyes and waits for me to say it. Pushy, kid.

"Cheese squeeze," I say, keeping the smile on my face as he went back to his drawing.

His face was full of concentration as he finished up the picture. The door opens to reveal a flustered Harry. I decided I could start trying to be friends with him again, even though I didn't believe the text he showed me about Hunter.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, raising a brow. Marcus groans, and I quickly regain my grin.

Harry slides down onto the floor beside me, crossing his ankles. "I texted you this morning. I told you I was going to help you babysit," he states in a matter-of-fact tone.

Marcus lifts his head and frowns. "I am not a baby," he denies swiftly. Harry offers his a half shrug, which Marcus returns with a childish groan. He places his last marker down onto the floor beside his feet and rose up onto his knees. "Okay, want to see what I drew?" he asks happily, clutching his work of art to his chest.

"Please, do show us," Harry coaxes, leaning forward.

Marcus rolls his eyes at Harry and turns to me for my approval. I nod and he twists the picture around. The picture was adorable, and it was amazing compared to what most six years olds could do.

"That one is you, because you are the pretty one," Marcus states. He then points to the blue space behind me, which I guessed to be a lake. "You were at the park," he continues, glancing to me quickly to make sure like it before he continued. "And then that is me, because of the glasses," he finishes, placing the picture on the coffee table before joining me on the floor again. "Now you draw us, maple syrup," he encourages, a cheeky grin on his face.

I couldn't help but be reminded of Harry when I look at Marcus. Harry is just as cheeky, if not more. I grip the notepad and take a marker. "Just so you know, I do music. Not art," I state as I lean back on my heels to begin to work with Marcus's blonde hair.

Harry's POV

"Who is maple syrup?" I ask Marcus, staring ahead as Rylie focused on drawing us.

Marcus gives me another one of his famous eye rolls for about the tenth time. "Rylie. I call her maple syrup because-"

"Marcus, if you tell him, I will beat you kid," Rylie threatens, even though I know she would never do that to him. She seems to adore the kid.

"Tell me," I whisper, nodding my head towards Rylie.

Marcus hesitates as he pushed his large framed glasses up onto his nose. "Well, she was at my house one day and eating pancakes. She didn't have syrup on them, so I asked why. She said that she didn't like syrup on her pancakes. So, me and my brother formed a plan to give her a maple syrup bath. So while she was going out the door, we poured a bucket of maple syrup on her head," he states, his cheeks red.