Free Fast Forward by Marion Croslydon

again.
    He was right to say so. I’d used a lot of words to describe her over the past twenty-four hours. None fit my new proper-speaking code. I mumbled back an ‘of course’ and crossed my arms over my chest.
    But I’d get my son back one way or another. Sooner rather than later.
    Sharon Sorenson opened the door. Josh went all P.R. on her and she mellowed. There was even the shadow of a smile when she let us in.
    “He’s in the kitchen.”
    Not on his own though. I recognized the neighbor, Andrea Loretti. She was pouring batter into a muffin pan. Holy Moly , did this woman ever do anything else but bake muffins?
    Lucas’s mouth was twisted the way it always did when he concentrated, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly from the corner. I guess Mrs. Loretti was keeping him busy. That was good.
    “Hi, Lucas,” Josh broke the ritual.
    Both Mrs. Loretti and Lucas jumped at his greeting. My gaze turned to Lucas to see if there were any signs of grief on his face. His cheeks were as round and pink as usual. He gave no sign of being upset until his mouth shaped into a silent ‘oh’ and his chin start to quiver.
    “Cassie,” he cried out, but his voice broke.
    Lucas jumped down from the seat he’d been standing on. He rushed between the table and Mrs. Loretti and crashed into me. I missed a breath—and then another—not because of the shock of his little body pounding against me. His pain had become my pain. I was a kid all over again. A kid whose mom had gone AWOL. A kid who’d never been on the receiving end of anything but neglect and abuse.
    I knelt down and locked him in my arms. His little arms were wrapped around my neck. Their hold on me tightened as if I was a lifejacket floating on the waves and he was drowning.
    “Trisha said you’d come, but I wasn’t sure.” His voice trembled and his breath tickled my skin. His words had only been for me. Knowing that, my love for him took root even deeper down inside my heart.
    Something shifted within me. I became Lucas’ mom. Not the one who’d carried him in her belly, or the one who’d given birth to him one June day five years ago. Not even the one who’d watched him grow up from afar. I became—I was—his mother, the one person who had the power to chase the clouds away and bring the blue sky back into his life.
    My hands cupped the sides of his head so that I could look him in the eyes. “I’m here, Lucas. We’re going to get through this. I promise you.”
    He shook his head. “But Grandpa’s dead.”
    “I kn—”
    “What did we say, sweetie pie?” The term of endearment clashed with Sorenson’s arctic voice.
    Lucas snuggled back against me. I stood but kept him wrapped around me, his head pressed against my stomach.
    “What did we say?” Lucas didn’t answer, so Mrs. Sorenson got on with her sermon, “If we don’t say the D-word, it’ll help feeling better.”
    What sort of BS was this?
    “But Grandpa is dead,” Lucas shouted back. “He’s dead like Mommy and Daddy.”
    He buried his face against me, tension pulsing through him. I massaged his shoulders, stroked the back of his head, repeating little shushing sounds. His arms circled my waist with a strength beyond that I’d expected from a five-year-old.
    I was grateful Mrs. Sorenson kept her mouth shut. It was safer that way. Andrea Loretti stared at Lucas while she kept kneading the material of her apron. If only one of her muffins could make it all better.
    “I think you’re angry,” Josh sliced into the heavy silence. He turned around one of the kitchen chairs and sat astride it, his eyes level with Lucas. “You’re sad, of course, but you’re angry because you feel like someone has stolen your grandpa away from you.” Lucas’s head nodded against me. “Do you know what I do when I feel like I want to scream in anger? I play football.”
    Lucas moved away from me. He wasn’t saying anything though, so Josh continued: “Do you still have the ball Cassie