Anita Blake 22.5 - Dancing by Laurell K. Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

true?”
    Cyrus wouldn’t look at his dad, or anyone else. It was hard to look tough when you’re being held in someone’s arms, but he did his best to pull it off, even crossing beefy arms across his chest.
    “Cyrus, I asked you a question, don’t make me ask twice.”
    “Yes,” he finally said, very sullen.
    “I don’t know what got into him, but I’m sorry.”
    Kevin Appleton said, “When Becky does something wrong she does her own apologizing.”
    Cyrus’s father glared at Appleton, but he said, “Apologize to the little girl, Cyrus.”
    “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I wanted to hurt him!” He pointed his own dramatic finger at Matthew.
    “Matthew didn’t start the fight, Cyrus, you did. Apologize to both of them, now.”
    He turned a pouting face to Becky. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”
    “I don’t accept!” Becky said. Her eyes were dark and furious. I liked her.
    “Now, apologize to Matthew.”
    “Won’t,” Cyrus said. It was a very firm word, he meant it.
    “Cyrus, apologize, now.”
    “Won’t.”
    “Maybe if you told him what he’s apologizing for,” Nathaniel said.
    The father looked puzzled. “He knows what he’s apologizing for.”
    “Is he apologizing for the fight, trying to call Matthew bad names, or being jealous?” Nathaniel asked.
    “I don’t even understand that,” the man said.
    “Are you sorry you called Matthew names?” Nathaniel asked.
    Cyrus looked daggers at him, but finally said, “I’m sorry I called you names.”
    “Do you accept his apology?” I asked, Matthew softly.
    Matthew nodded.
    “Are you sorry you started the fight?” Nathaniel asked.
    “I’m sorry I fought you, Matthew.”
    Matthew shook his head. “I didn’t like that. If Becky cannot accept your ’pology, I don’t accept it either.”
    Someone had found ice to put on Becky’s face. She was crying again, saying, “It’s cold!”
    “We’re really sorry, aren’t we, Cyrus?” his father said.
    “Yes,” Cyrus said sullenly.
    “Can you behave yourself the rest of the day, or do we have to leave?”
    “I don’t want to go.”
    “Then promise me, no more fighting.”
    He promised, but not like he was happy about it, or really meant it. We’d keep a closer eye on Matthew, just in case. Didn’t want to give him back to his mother damaged.
    They went one way. We went the other. I told Greg, “That was quick thinking about the water.”
    He flashed me a grin that was the duplicate of Zerbrowski’s shit-eating one, and suddenly he was so his father’s son. It made me smile just to see it.
    “Thanks, Anita.”
    Zerbrowski hugged him one armed from behind, because he was getting too big for a public hug. “That’s my boy.” They grinned at each other, and it was a good moment.
    The curly-haired blonde came over with a woman in tow who was as blonde and blue-eyed as she was. “Mommy, this is Matthew, he takes ballet just like I do, and he fought Cyrus for me.”
    I was pretty sure that Matthew hadn’t seen himself as defending the little blonde’s honor. I started to say something, but Matthew was looking entirely too pleased with himself for me to spoil the moment.
    The girl was Jeannette, the mother was Jean, and the father was Detective Mitchell Forbes. Forbes had lost most of his hair, so I added five years onto his age, but when I had more time to look at his face, and the toned body that showed in his polo shirt and shorts, I subtracted the five years and put him early thirties at most.
    “Thank you for taking care of our little girl, Matthew. It was very brave of you.”
    I wasn’t sure how I felt about these assumed dynamics, that the girl needed saving and that the boy did the saving. It seemed sexist and under six there really wasn’t much difference in physical potential. Jeannette could have “protected” herself as well as Matthew, with training in martial arts maybe better.
    “You know, girls can protect themselves,” I said.
    Jeanette