Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I thought I get to choose where I want to brand you,” he says.
“You do. This was just for practice.”
He’s quiet as he studies my work carefully, inspecting it, before saying, “I like it.” He pulls my wrist to his face and kisses the brand gently, and his stamp of approval sends warmth through me, like settling into a hot bath.
“Naughty Troy,” he whispers before surrendering my hand.
When I cut into my omelet, he’s staring at me like he knows I’m his now, and I savor the moment, taking pride in his satisfaction with my early morning art project.
I let us have this moment, but as it subsides, I decide it’s best to come back to reality. “So this Activate Kindness thing you’re always so cryptic about, I’m wondering what exactly you do there.”
“It’s not like I’ve been trying to hide it. Just used to keeping it my own thing.” He shrugs. “I do a lot there. Often it’s food-stability programs—serving food to the homeless and things like that. Right now I’m helping with a program for kids with learning disabilities. They team you up with a kid who needs help with something—math, reading, writing. I’m working with this kid Milo who’s dyslexic and—why are you making that face?”
I didn’t realize it, but as he was explaining his volunteer work, my jaw dropped. “I just had no idea you had this secret life. I like unraveling the many mysteries of Atlas McCallister.”
An idea pops in my head, and I consider it carefully before saying anything.
Atlas must notice because he says, “What?”
“I don’t have anything going on today. I’d be game to come in and help out.”
“Really?”
“What does that mean? I used to help out with the adaptive sports football league in high school.”
“I remember,” he says with a smirk, like he’s pleased to know me as well as he does.
“And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of great at math and science, so I could be a valuable asset to this program.”
“I…” he starts, and I can sense his uneasiness.
“Sorry, if you don’t want me to come, I understand that too. I was just offering—”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m just…not used to sharing this. It’s something I love, but it also makes me feel closer to my mom.”
He doesn’t explain what he means, but I don’t need him to, not unless he wants to share it. “I get that,” I say. “Forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want to interfere if you feel like that’s a thing that’s only between you and her.”
He hesitates, then looks at me with eyes full of conviction. “I want to share it with you…if you genuinely want to be involved, not just to spend time with me.”
“I want to be involved. It sounds like a really great cause.”
The way he beams assures me he was serious about wanting me to come. “Okay, T. But first day, I’ll just show you around, and we can work with Milo. He’s a little shy about reading around new people, so we’ll need to make sure he’s comfortable with it.”
I shrug. “If he’s not, I’ll find something else to do. I’ll stay out of the way. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m great with kids.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says before leaning in and planting another kiss.
After we finish breakfast, we get ready and drive over to the local elementary school. As Atlas leads me into a classroom, I get a whiff of paint before spotting the artwork along every wall and art supplies stacked along the counters.
He introduces me to the other volunteers and kids in the program before a kid—maybe eight or nine—with jet-black hair, a bright smile, and an X-Men tee approaches with a woman, who has the same color hair. Maybe his mom.
“Hi, Atlas,” the kid says in a soft voice, keeping close to the woman.
“Hey, Milo. How you doing?” Atlas extends his hand, and Milo eyes me uneasily before fist-bumping with him. “This is my friend Troy. Would it be okay if he works with us today?”
Milo glances around uneasily.
“Hey, Milo. Atlas was just telling me about what a cool kid you are, but he didn’t mention you liked X-Men.”
His lips curl into a broad grin.
“Gambit’s my favorite. What about you?”
“I like Gambit,” he says, “but I like Wolverine more.”
He’s still not making eye contact, and I’m a little worried my attempt might not go anywhere, when he says, “Do you like the comics or just the movies?”
“I’ve read a lot of the comics.”
“My brother reads them with me sometimes. Colossus is my favorite, but he’s not in the movies and shows as much.”
“No, he’s not. And that’s the worst. They did him wrong, didn’t they?”
His grin’s so big, I can see all his teeth. “You kind of look like Colossus.”