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TK was sitting on the counter and swinging his legs back and forth while Gwyn moved around the kitchen. It was her last full day there – tomorrow, she’d be gone before dinner, and all TK wanted to do with her today was make cookies. It was one of his fondest memories growing up with her, they’d been doing it together since well before he could even see above the counter. One of his favorite pictures was actually of him, he was maybe two years old, and he was sitting on the floor with a plastic bowl and wooden spoon, covered in flour. Something about the action just calmed him.
He wasn’t small, but when he’d woken up that morning, he’d gone to find Gwyn and then buried his head on her side, letting her play with his hair. Even before they’d moved to Texas, they hadn’t been seeing each other as regularly as either would’ve liked. Gwyn was still in the midst of the case that had kept her busy all those morning’s, afternoon’s, and evenings when TK had tried to see her. They’d gone from once a week to seeing each other maybe once a month between her schedule and his. And all TK really wanted now was to make some cookies with his mommy.
“I missed this,” TK said as he reached over, popping some coconut flakes into his mouth.
Gwyn smacked his hand admonishingly. “TK, you need to save some for the cookies.”
“There’s enough,” he argued.
Gwyn shook her head fondly. “I’ve missed this too. Here, you can pour in the sugar.”
TK’s job had always been to pour the carefully measured out ingredients into the big bowl, though now when they did this together, Gwyn usually let him mix too. He was less likely to dump the entire bowl over now that he was older. Now, TK took the measuring cup and dumped it in the bowl and carefully followed her instructions. He’d been making this same type of cookie long enough that he could make them on his own if he wanted to, but he never did want to. He liked Gwyn to be in charge and for him to follow instruction.
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?”
Gwyn paused and looked up at her son. She paused in her careful measuring of the coconut – she was a methodical baker, everything was a science and she was not going to be short for a cookie because of her son’s taste testing.
“Sweetheart, you know I can’t stay forever,” Gwyn said softly.
“But you could.”
“Honey, Texas isn’t my home,” Gwyn said. She cupped his face. “New York is my home.”
“Texas could be your home,” TK said softly. He dropped his eyes. “It’s my home now.”
“And I will come visit you every chance I can,” Gwyn said. “And you can come visit me in New York. We’ll go to dim sum.”
“We can do that here though,” TK whined slightly.
“Honey,” Gwyn said again. “You know that I can’t. But I’m always here for you. You can text me or call me and we’ll make sure that we see each other every chance we can, okay?”
TK sighed and nodded, then reached over and took some more coconut, dropping it in his mouth. And if he suckled his fingers for a few seconds, well, no one was going to say anything.
Once the dough was mixed and the cookies were rolled out and in the oven, TK knew it would take 12 minutes for each batch to cook and they’d made a triple batch. TK had insisted that extras be prepared so he could take some to the firehouse and then also that Gwyn needed to take some home with her because it would be criminal for her not to. They’re on the second batch, halfway through the cook time and talking idly when Gwyn’s phone rings. She cuts off mid-sentence about her recent time in China and looks down at it, biting her lip.
“You can answer it,” TK sighed.
“Are you sure?”
“Mom, it’s fine,” TK said, smiling a little. “I’m a big boy.”
Gwyn gave him a bemused smile, but she answered and began talking in rapid Mandarin, leaving the kitchen. She wasn’t back in two minutes, or five, and then the timer on the oven was going off and TK opened it to pull the cookies out before they were ruined. He pulled them out easily enough and slid the other pan of unbaked dough in, but the problem came when he tried to get the cookies off the pain and to the cooling rack. He hissed in pain as he accidentally put his hand on the edge of the piping hot baking sheet, recoiling at once to look at the damage.
The skin across his palm was red and angry and suddenly TK was red and angry because his mom had left him. She had left him and she wasn’t even gone yet. He stumbled to the sink, running his palm under cool water for a few minutes before pulling it back. It still throbbed. In the other room, Gwyn was still speaking in a language he didn’t understand. TK sniffled and headed upstairs. His dad kept the first aid kit in his bathroom and all the rest of the medicine too. He rooted around the kit and frowned. Where was the burn cream?
With Gwyn still talking on her phone, TK couldn’t go to her. He wasn’t supposed to bother Gwyn at work because her job was very important.
“What’s up, TK?” Owen asked.
“Dada,” TK said. “Where’s the burn cream?”
“In the first aid kit. Why do you need burn cream?”
“It’s not, I’ve checked,” TK said. He rooted around again. “Four times now.”
“Why do you need the burn cream?” Owen asked again. “Do you need me to come home? Need me to send Tommy? Where’s your mom?”
TK’s breathing hitched a little. “It’s not a bad burn. I just grabbed the cookie tray with my hand. Wasn’t thinking. Mom’s on the phone with China.”
“Do you need me to come home?”
TK groaned and then kicked the first aid kit in frustration. There was no burn cream, his hand hurt, and he wanted Gwyn, but she couldn’t even get off the phone long enough to help with the cookies today.
“Hey, TK,” Owen said. “Take some deep breaths for me, okay? Are you okay?”
“It’s not my job,” TK whined.
“What’s not your job?”
“To take the cookies outta the oven,” he mumbled. “And put ‘em on the cooling rack. I pour the ingredients and I mix them and I eat the cookies.”
“I’m going to ask Tommy to come check you out,” Owen said. “Where are you now?”
“In your bathroom,” TK mumbled. “I don’t need Tommy.”
“If you burnt your hand, you should have it looked at.”
“Dad, I’m a dual-certified firefighter and medic. It’s not bad. I just wanted some burn cream for it because it’s a little ouch,” TK mumbled. “And mom…”
“Mom’s not available to kiss it better?”
“Maybe,” TK grouched. He left the bathroom and curled up in his dad’s bed. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, bub,” Owen said softly. “I’m sure your mom will be done on the phone soon and finish backing cookies with you.”
TK bolted upright. “Oh my god.”
“What? What oh my god?”
“I have to get the other cookies out of the oven. God, it’s definitely been more than twelve minutes. They’re going to be burnt and bad now.”
“Okay, go get the cookies from the oven and use an oven mitt, okay?” Owen said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” TK sighed. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too bub.”
TK went back to the kitchen and turned off the oven, pulling the cookies out. They were nearly black and he wanted to cry. He placed them on the counter and headed back upstairs. Buttercup followed him and tried to herd his boy into the nursery, but TK ignored him. He wasn’t small enough for that, but he didn’t go to his room either. He thought about going to Owen’s, but instead went to the guest room and curled up on the bed that smelled like his mom now.
Gwyn hung up the phone with a sigh. She had been telling them the same thing for close to forty-five minutes and this was nothing more than a headache. She’d told them not to call her again until she returned to work the following morning and then went to the kitchen. Her heart sank when she saw the cookies. On one sheet, twelve cookies beautifully cooked and stuck, the other charred to a crisp.
“TK?” she called. And when he didn’t respond, she went looking for him.
She found him asleep in her bed, one hand outstretched with an angry red mark on it and the other was, naturally, in his mouth. She smiled softly at that. It was one indication growing up of what his classification was going to be. TK had always been a thumb sucker. Even when he was sixteen and experimenting with drugs and always upset with her and Owen, they’d often find him passed out in his bed or the couch, or sometimes the floor steadily sucking away.
“TK,” she murmured, gently running a hand through his hair. “Come on, baby. Open those pretty green eyes for me.”
TK blinked a little bit and whined, but Gwyn had years of waking up her son. Finally, after a little more coaxing, he looked up at her.
“Off the phone?” he grumbled.
“I am,” she said. “I’m sorry the cookies got burned.”
“Not your fault. I left them unattended to find burn cream.”
“Burn cream? Why did you need to find burn cream?”
TK held out his hand to her and she picked it up, frowning. “Oh, baby. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not my job,” TK said in a slightly quavering voice. “You take the cookies out.”
“I know and I’m sorry, baby. Mommy’s client was just being very unreasonable. I had to yell at them.”
“You did?”
“I did,” Gwyn said. “And told them that if they didn’t let me go, I would drop their case quicker than a hot potato.”
TK laughed a little at that and perked up as she gently pressed a kiss to his hurt hand. That felt better already. He shifted so he was lying with his head on her lap, letting her continue playing with his hair a little bit.
“Do you want to make more cookies?” Gwyn asked gently.
“No,” TK said softly. “Just want to spend time with you.”
“Come on,” Gwyn said, hoisting him to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“It’s my last day with my boy,” Gwyn said. “Let’s go out. We’ll find another dim sum place. We’ll talk. It’ll be just like it should be.”
TK grinned happily and he jumped up. He slipped into his shoes and then followed Gwyn downstairs. Owen had taken the car, so they had to call a car to take them downtown.
TK doesn’t go out like he did in New York. He supposes there’s no real need to down here since he’s not trying to score. He doesn’t want the oxy or the vodka. He’d much rather be at home, playing catan with his friends or snuggling up to his dad, or even kissing Carlos. When TK thought of Carlos, it usually brought a blush to his fair cheeks. After Alex, TK wasn’t sure what he wanted out of his love life. Maybe he’d never want to get married again, but he knew he liked kissing Carlos when he was in the right psace for it and, when he wasn’t, he knew Carlos was the best friend he’d ever had. He never thought he’d like Austin so much, but here he was, happily talking about his new city with his mom.
“I am so glad that you’re happy,” Gwyn said softly, squeezing his hands gently.
The burn didn’t even hurt and had mostly faded by now. In the morning, TK was sure that it would be gone completely.
“I am too,” TK said. He shoved a shrimp soup dumpling in his mouth, then washed it down with mineral water. “Are you sure you can’t stay longer? Like, maybe forever?”
“Tyler,” Gwyn said and TK wrinkled his nose. “You know I can’t stay forever.”
“I know, but I’m going to ask ten thousand more times,” TK said. “And hide the keys tomorrow so dad can’t take you to the airport.”
Gwyn laughed. “That reminds me of the first time I went to China on a case. You were seven and your dad and I hadn’t divorced yet. And you hid my suitcase.”
“Under a blanket because you packed too much stuff and I couldn’t lift it,” TK finished for her, smiling. “Can you blame me? I’ve always just wanted you to stay with me.”
Gwyn smiled sadly and reached out for his hand again. “You’ll be okay. And you’ve got your daddy. I am so, so proud of you, baby. You’ve come a long way.”
“I’m sorry,” TK said softly. “I know it was probably scary for you, too. Getting the call from dada.”
“No,” Gwyn said, sitting up a little straighter. “That was not one of my favorite moments. But you got more help, you’re doing better now.”
TK smiled a little bit at the praise because he did get help and he was doing better. Somedays were a struggle, but overall, TK really was happier.
The next afternoon found TK following Gwyn around. She couldn’t even go to the bathroom without TK trying to go with her. He stood outside the door, waiting for her to come out, feeling a tightness in his chest when she was away.
“Okay, TK,” Gwyn said at three. “Time to put shoes on.”
“Are you positive you want to go?” he said. “You can stay here. It doesn’t have to be forever. We can get you your own place. Though I wouldn’t say no if you and dad got back together.”
“TK, shoes. Do you need help?”
“No,” he grumbled, stretching the word out.
TK ran upstairs and grabbed his slides and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stripped out of his jeans and underwear, grabbing a pull-up and putting it on before putting his jeans back up. He just wanted to avoid another incident like when they’d picked Gwyn up.
“Alright, baby,” Gwyn said, taking his hand in hers. “Let’s go.”
He let her help him into the car seat that had been deep cleaned following his accident, relishing in the kiss she pressed to the middle of his forehead. When she pulled away though, he was frowning. She reached for his stomach and started tickling until he began to giggle.
“Mom, mom,” TK laughed, wiggling around. “You don’t fight fair!”
“I’m the mom, I don’t have to,” Gwyn said, but she did pull back.
She closed the door and got in the passenger seat, nodding at Owen to start driving.
“Mom,” TK said. “What if I get hurt? Then will you stay?”
Gwyn turned quickly and pointed a finger at him. “Tyler Kennedy. Under no circumstances are you allowed to purposefully hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt yourself at all, but I know accidents will happen. There’s nothing to be done about those, but if you try to hurt yourself on purpose you will be in so much trouble.”
“I’m not gonna hurt myself,” TK said. “But my hand kinda hurts. The burn…”
Gwyn knew well that the burn had disappeared before he’d even gone to bed the night he’d gotten it, but she held her hand out and TK leaned as far forward as he could, giving her the band. She rubbed it between her hands and then pressed a dozen kisses to his palm.
“Is that better?”
TK shrugged and sat back with a sigh. When they got to the airport, Owen parked in the drop off lane and jumped out to get the bags out of the back seat while Gwyn went around to the back seat and opened the door, reaching in and hugging her son tightly. Her shoulder was wet instantly from the tears he’d worked up and when she pulled away, she peppered kisses over his face, trying to dry his tears with her lips.
“I will call you as soon as I land, okay?” Gwyn said softly. “And we can talk every day.”
“Gwyn,” Owen said softly. “You need to go. This rent-a-cop is making faces at me.”
“Bye mommy,” TK sniffled. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Gwyn said, giving him another kiss before backing away. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” TK said softly.
Owen stepped up to the side of the car so Gwyn could get away. He smoothed his kid’s hair back.
“You want to ride up front?”
“No,” TK said softly, rubbing at his face.
“Do you need to go potty before we leave? I can take us in really quick.”
“No,” TK said again. “Just go home.”
Owen watched him in the mirror on the way home. TK kept rubbing at his eyes and occasionally bit at his thumb knuckle. He was trying his best to self-regulate and Owen was more than just a little relieved when about twenty minutes from home, TK finally passed out, his head lolling to one side. And when he picked up his kid, he gently patted his bottom to keep him from stirring and realized that he knew why TK wasn’t afraid of having an accident now as he felt the slight padding. He was so proud of his kid for being able to make this kind of decisions and regulate himself.
“Mommy?” TK mumbled.
“No, bubba, it’s daddy,” Owen said gently. “Mommy went back to New York, remember?”
“Oh,” TK mumbled. He snuffled some and snuggled closer into Owen as he was carried up the stairs. “We go to New York?”
“Maybe later,” Owen said gently. “Come on, go back to sleep. When you wake up, we can call mommy.”
“Kay,” TK mumbled. “Sleep in mommy’s bed?”
“Okay, bub,” Owen said softly.
When TK was laid down in the bed, he twisted under the covers, pressing his face into the pillow and relishing in the scent that was his mom. She’d been wearing the same perfume all his life and it brought nothing but comfort to him now. He smiled, curling up into the pillow she had used and thought that even if she wasn’t here, she was always a phone call away. And, at very least, he still had his dad.