“Nettie said Maverick might be tall, but he’s thin. He only weighs twenty-six pounds. The playpen holds up to thirty. It’s a quick fix for a night.”
“Sounds like a wasteful buy,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll need one anyway when Gabe’s baby is born. I just bought it early so you can borrow it.”
Most of the things she bought would be used for her niece or nephew. A booster seat to eat at, a bed rail for her spare bed, toys, blankets, bath toys, clothing once she got Maverick’s size. She wanted things left at her house.
The list went on and on, but she wanted Chance to feel as if he could leave his son with her when he was working at night without carting too much over. She knew Rhea would take the toddler too and she had to not get greedy, but Chance was going to need every hour of help he could get.
“You bought a lot of stuff,” he said. “How did you even know sizes?”
“I asked Nettie. I know you and you’re going to want him to have some nicer clothing and pajamas.”
The little boy’s pants were too short on Sunday, and they were worn. Most likely hand-me-downs.
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured I can deal with that stuff once Maverick is settled. I’ll order whatever else I need.”
“I got a lot,” she said.
He turned his head when he parked his truck in front. “I’m not surprised. Why do I feel you’re excited about this?”
She reached her hand over to lie on his thigh. “Because children are wonderful things. It’s not the way you thought any of this would happen in your life. I don’t even know if you wanted kids.”
It didn’t seem like a question to ask once he found out he was a father.
“I didn’t think it’d be like this,” he said dryly. “But I’m sure many from a decade ago would have pegged it.”
“Just stop,” she said firmly.
The last thing she needed was him getting in his head about who he used to be.
He wasn’t that boy.
He was a man who had made something of himself and was going to give his son a better life than he had been given.
“I’m trying to joke.”
“It’s not a joke,” she said. “Let’s go get your son. You’re bringing him home, right?”
“I am. Monica said she did all the paperwork, spoke to social services, and then Nettie spoke with them. It’s an emergency situation and I’ll have a caseworker visit tomorrow.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” she said. “Did you want me there too or to leave?”
She’d planned on helping Chance this week with whatever he needed.
“It’s up to you. I’d like you there but understand if you don’t want to get involved.”
“Of course I’ll be there. Cut it out. I won’t keep telling you I’m not going anywhere.”
She opened the door of his truck and got out before he could say another word.
They walked up the unstable, handmade wooden steps to the door. Just two of them.
There was no way social services would look at this place and allow the child to stay compared to what Chance could provide.
She knocked on the front door, and Nettie opened it. “Hi,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Nettie said, moving back. The place smelled of something burnt mixed with a moldy odor, and a dirty diaper. “Come in. I’ve got most of his stuff packed up.”
