“Is someone internet impulse buying instead of spreadsheeting?” she teased quietly.
Dammit, he was, and quickly deleted them out of the cart as he huffed a laugh.
“I was just joking,” she hastened, but he shook his head. “Buy all the shovels you want.”
“Don’t need ’em.”
He exhaled hard, trying to quell the cacophony of emotions pinching his chest. It was the worst feeling in the world, to know his kids were struggling, and not be able to do anything about it. It was moments like these where he sympathized a degree with Harold Dixon, who might have been an ass, but at least had been trying, even if he’d made things worse so much of the time.
“Do you want to go home?” she asked, her hands slipping away, and too late he realized he didn’t want her letting go. She wasn’t with him on this, but it had felt good to feel like he had someone’s support anyway.
He turned around now to look down at her, the movie all but forgotten despite the speakers rumbling and screen flashing. Yeah, he wanted to go home. Wanted to throw himself into his work, spreadsheet the hell out of those bank statements or swing his hammer until his arm was sore and the side of the barn was fully repaired, anything to channel this frustration within him. But there was nothing he could do right now. It was late. He’d already texted T.R. to tell the guys to quit for the day. He and Heather wouldn’t get back until after ten if they left now, which was too late to get all the equipment out and start working on the barn again.
It wasn’t Heather’s fault. He didn’t want to ruin her night.
“Naw. Gonna hit the concession stand again. Want anything?”
She glanced back at his dashboard, at the bags of chips and boxes of candy that were still unopened while they’d made their way through the popcorn and the Raisinets, then smiled up at him.
“I’m good.”
He began to stalk away when she continued.
“You can talk to me about your kids, Tyler.” He glanced back, seeing her shrug, and a soft, wistful smile on her lips. “I think it’s really cool that you have kids. Not everyone is so lucky.”
And that was the kicker. Really, he couldn’t talk about them. Could he? But he was lucky. He nodded once. Maybe he’d needed that reminder.