“Damn,” his grandmother said the next morning. “He looks just like you.”
The minute his grandmother opened the door, Maverick looked up from where he was sitting on the couch watching cartoons.
Surprisingly, his son slept until eight this morning. He’d had a panic moment that something had happened and checked at seven. Even though he’d already checked at six when he’d gotten out of the shower.
Jocelyn said she’d popped her head in also.
“I thought so, but I don’t remember.”
It’s not as if there were a lot of pictures of him back then. His mother didn’t care and his grandmother probably didn’t think much of it.
Chance had more pictures of his son on his phone now than might have been taken of him most of his life.
“I’ll dig a few up. They’ve got to be somewhere. Will he let me hug him?”
“Hug?” he asked. “When was the last time you hugged me?”
His grandmother smiled. She didn’t do it often, but he could see she was just as emotional about this as him.
“I hugged you a lot when you were younger, then you got too ornery about being touched.”
“I can see that,” Jocelyn said, coming out of the kitchen.
She’d been getting another coffee. They’d been going through the list of things they needed to get and where it’d all go. Trying to be prepared for the case manager that was coming later today.
“Morning,” his grandmother said. “I’m glad you’re here for Chance. How has he been on diaper duty?”
“The first dirty one he wanted no part of. We haven’t had a second yet, but he’s changed every one since.”
It was his son. His job. His responsibility.
Maverick had to get used to his father being there for him and doing it all. Though he knew there was going to be just as much time it wouldn’t be him.
“The first is the hardest.” His grandmother moved and sat on the couch next to her great-grandson and put a bag in front of him she’d had behind her back. A gift bag.
Maverick didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know what to do with it.
It made him wonder whether the kid got any gifts to open.
Jesus. He was going to get ill.
“Maverick,” he said. “Can you open the bag? Go on.”
His son looked at him and smiled, his baby teeth visible and not that clean. Just another thing he’d have to figure out. He tried to brush them last night and his son wanted no part of it. Instead, he’d let the toddler watch him brush his own to get used to it.
He stuck his hand in and pulled out the tissue paper, Maverick yanking it out the rest of the way and giggling, crumpling it in his hand and then pulling it apart.
Guess he thought that was the toy.
“Look inside,” his grandmother said, leaning the bag forward.
Maverick’s eyes landed inside, then reached in and pulled out a bigger fire truck.
“Tuck, tuck, tuck!”
“Already has something in common with you,” his grandmother said.
Maverick turned to get off the couch by sliding on his belly. Chance wanted to help him but realized his son might be used to doing a lot on his own so just kept an eye on him and would catch him if he had to.
