"Remember to call me the moment you get there" I tell my son repeating what I've said for the probably the tenth time since we woke up this morning.
"Yes, M'am" he grins as he puts his bag on the back of that bloody contraption of his, his bike.
He's about to ride that thing for four hours to Dallas to where this soccer camp is. They had offered to pay for his flights there, but he said he didn't wanna leave his bike behind, probably because he'd worry I'd get rid of the darn thing. "I mean it, Colton Coleman, don't you worry your mama by not callin' ya'ere?" I scold him.
"I won't momma, I promise," he says with a warm smile. "I'll call you every day"
His face morphs into a look of worry, he's probably worried incase he won't have to the time to call, but just a text will do, just as long as I know my boy is okay. "Just whenever you can, son, okay?" I tell him. "Even a quick text, will do" I add.
"Okay, momma," he says as he pulls me in for a hug. "I'll miss you," he says placing a kiss at the top of my head.
"And I'll miss you, my boy," I say looking up at him. "Now go on, go show them what my boy is made of" I tell him as I shoo him.
"I'm going" he chuckles as he climbs on his bike. "I'll call you when I get there, okay? I love you, momma" he shouts as he starts his engine.
"I love you too, my sweet boy" I shout back waving him off.
He waves again and turns the corner, he's gone, gone for three whole years, I sigh heavily as I turn back to the house. Already the emptiness of the house gets to me, I've gotten so used to having my boy here with me that I'll now have to get used to living alone again.
I go back inside busying myself with tasks, about an hour or two later I've cleaned my already clean house, did a bit of gardening, baked some cookies and now I'm sat twiddling my thumbs when suddenly I hear a car door shut. "Who is that?" I wonder to myself as I go to the front door.
I open it to see saint stomping up the stairs with a look of determination on his face. "Michael, what are you—" I say but he cuts me off by cupping my face in his hands and kisses me, pushing me back inside the house, kicking the door shut behind us and pushes me up against it.
"Fuck" he growls as his lips go down to my neck, kissing, licking and nibbling there. "You taste better than I remember, precious"
"What?" I say breathlessly.
He pulls back and smiles at me. "I told you we were talking" he says softly as he strokes my cheek.
"That wasn't talking" I pant.
"I want you, Kathy—I've always wanted you and you want me too, I know you do" he growls.
"I know but—" I say before he cuts me off.
"Colton is eighteen years old, precious, he's away for three years—there's nothing holding you back now, plus that kid is like a son to me—I would never hurt him, or you" he tells me.
"Give us a chance, presh" he pleads. "Give me, a chance"
My heart beats frantically from his words, could we do this? Then I realise, he's seeing other women, I don't wanna be one of many. "But you're dating other women" I argue. "You have been for years"
He shakes his head with a smirk. "I went on one date, that's it, I tried, I couldn't do it, not when my heart belonged to another" he says softly.
"What?" I gasp.
He can't mean that...
"It's the truth, Kathy—" he tells me.
YOU ARE READING
Saint & His Happily Ever After (A Novella Of The "And His" Series)
Romance**READ COLTON & HIS ANGEL FIRST** If we'd never met, I think I would have known my life wasn't complete. And I would have wandered the world in search of you, even if I didn't know who I was looking for. ― Nicholas Sparks. Michael Saint is a detect...
