“Wun!” He tosses his little arms into the air and grins before he takes off, sprinting as fast as his legs will carry him, to get his shoes. He plops his diaper-covered ass to the floor and tries to put his shoes on, but it’s the wrong feet.
“Good idea. Let Daddy help you.” Bending, I take the shoes from him and help him put them on the correct feet. “Now, let me grab us some water, and we’ll head out.”
“Wun!” he cheers again, and I chuckle.
I don’t want to be one of those parents who force my kid onto a career path just because I chose it or couldn’t pick it. However, my little guy seems to enjoy going on runs with me. Of course, if I got to sit in a tricked-out stroller with shocks for a smooth ride, with someone pushing me while I ate my snacks and drank my milk, while also playing with my favorite stuffed Rowdy the Rhino, I’d probably enjoy it, too.
I love what I do. Running is a part of my life and has been for as long as I can remember. However, as each year passes, I can feel my body giving in to the demands I’ve made of it all these years. As a running back, I take a lot of hits, and they’re definitely starting to hurt harder than they used to.
“All right, bud, you ready to do this?” I ask, shoving two bottles of water into the small diaper bag I take with us on runs. I’ve got diapers, wipes, a blanket, snacks, a sippy cup of milk on an ice pack, and a few toys, and yes, Rowdy the stuffed rhino is shoved in there, too. It’s busting at the seams, but I learned very quickly, you don’t want to be out and about and need something you don’t have when you have a baby, or a toddler, now, I guess. He’s going to be two in a few weeks. These last two years have flown by.
I toss the diaper bag over my shoulder and scoop Camden up into my arms. He squeals with delight as I perch him on my hip and carry him out to the garage. In no time, he’s strapped into the stroller, and we’re off. I don’t listen to music when I run if Camden is with me. I’m too worried that something might happen that I miss, and I need to be alert at all times.
Thankfully, our neighborhood has its own private park. The homeowner’s association gives you a keycard to access it. It’s just one street over from our place. I bought this house, in the same neighborhood as Landry and Rowan and Knox and Corie, when I found out I was going to be a father. I didn’t want to raise my son in a high-rise condo. I wanted him to have a yard where he could run and play.
Now, Reid and Bellamy also live here. We just have to get Foster on board to move to our neighborhood, and the entire gang will be together. He and I used to be neighbors. He’s still back at his condo. I even offered for him to move in with me. I only need three of the five bedrooms this place has, but Foster likes his space, and I don't blame him. I can say my house is too big for just Camden and me. When he’s with his mom, it's way too quiet. I hate it when he’s not at my house, but lately, he’s with me more than he’s not, so I don’t have much to bitch about.
Camden chatters away, pointing at birds in the sky and what else, I’m not exactly sure, but his giggle tells me he’s enjoying it. Inside the park, I set a steady pace on the trail. I usually make a full lap, then we stop for some time to play a little before taking another lap, and then jog back to the house. It’s not a good, intense workout, but it is the workout of a single dad, and that’s who I am these days. I won’t always be Baker Sinclair, running back for the Nashville Rampage, but I will forever be his father, and I’m damn proud of that.
I start to slow as we approach the park bench, when we see familiar faces. “Cam, look, it’s Uncle Reid and Aunt Bellamy,” I tell my son, as I stop the stroller next to theirs.
“Baby.” Camden squirms to get out of his stroller, peering over the side to try to get a good look at Coral.
“I see how it is.” Reid laughs. “I have a baby, and suddenly, my man Cam wants nothing to do with me.”
“Weed, baby.” Camden points to where Coral lies in her stroller.
“Cam, your baby cousin missed you,” Bellamy coos to him, expertly unfastening him from the stroller and placing him on her hip. “Hey, Baker.” She waves and then pushes Coral’s stroller toward the toddler-sized activity center that has a slide, a tunnel, and so many other things my son loves. They have a larger one for the bigger kids, and he often cries to play on that one, but he’s too little. I have no doubt he’ll be chasing after the big kids soon. He’s growing up too fast.
“You should have told me you were coming for a run. I would have joined you.”
“I have Cam.”
“And I could have brought Coral. I need to get me one of these.” He pushes my running stroller back and forth. “I’m sure my baby girl would love it. And,” he says, giving me a pointed look, “Bellamy would have been happy to keep an eye on Cam while we got our run in.”
“It’s the weekend, and I’m not pawning my kid off on someone else while I run.”
“Back the fuck up with that,” Reid says. “We’re not just anyone. We’re family, and you know my wife loves him. Hell, she stole him away as soon as you got here,” Reid tells me.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “It’s fucked up that his own mother doesn’t want to be around him, but his aunts by love and friendship do.”
“Blood doesn’t make you family, Sinclair,” Reid says, his tone hard.
“Fuck, I know. I didn’t mean that. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this Natasha bullshit,” I tell him. “She’s fucking missing so much of his life, and she has zero fucks to give.”
I’ve been in a state of anger since she called and skipped her entire week with him. She does it all the time, but fuck me, I hate that she cares so little about our son. I move to sit down on the bench, my elbows digging into my knees as I cover my face with my hands.
“I don’t know, brother,” Reid says, taking the seat next to me. “I want to call her all the bad names, and trust me, I can get creative, but that’s his mom, and I love that little boy as if he were my own. So, instead, I’ll say this. Not everyone is cut out to be a parent. Too self-absorbed or just no motherly or fatherly instincts—honestly, I’m not sure, but do you know what I do know?”
“What’s that?” I ask, sitting up and resting my back against the bench. Camden squeals with delight as he slides through the tunnel slide. Bellamy claps and cheers him on, then spots him as he climbs back up to go again.
Reid turns to face me, holding my gaze. “I know you’re an incredible father. I know that not a single day in that boy’s life will he ever question that. You’re doing all you can do, Baker. Natasha has chosen her path, and I’m certain one day she’ll regret it.”
“I want better for him.”
“Then go find him better,” he says.
I scoff, but his expression doesn’t change. “I’m serious. When’s the last time you took a woman out?”
