“Then I think it’s high time you cash those days in and use them,” I express.
“I could wipe out that honey-do list if I do,” he says, thinking out loud.
“It’s long enough it could keep you busy for nearly a week,” I banter, giving him a knowing look. “The list keeps growing because you keep putting it off.”
“That’s because I’m always needed someplace else,” he groans.
I raise my brow at him, indicating that he just made my point for me. He holds up his hands in surrender before digging into the inner pocket of his cut and pulling out his phone. His fingers fly across the keyboard before he sits it down on the table and shoots me a wink.
“I’m quitting my job,” I announce, tired of holding it back. I didn’t want to add to his stress so I bit my tongue and hadn’t told him what had been on my mind.
“Good. It’s about time,” he grunts. Those words have my own stress melting away. The dream job I followed to a new town turned out to be a dud. They went back on their word, their promise of letting me work from home so I could be home for my little guy, which was the entire reason I accepted the position in the first place. “We’re not hurting for money, Van. We’re fine whether you work or not. Plus, I have a few things in the works that I’ll need you for. If everything pans out, you’ll be a business owner yourself with the club as your partner.” I squeal and throw myself into his arms. The chair scraping against the floor echoes throughout the kitchen causing our little man to panic and cry.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Riptide
My head swivelsin our little man’s direction, and my heart sinks when I see twin tears streak down his cheeks. I think my old lady’s excitement was a little too exuberant for him to take. Here lately, any loud sounds startle him and he cries.
“Do you think we need to have him checked over by the pediatrician, Van?”
“No. Believe it or not, this is normal behavior for his age range,” she explains, but I’m not convinced. This is a new development and it has me feeling angsty. “He’s going to experience highs and lows like the rest of us as he transitions from being an infant to a toddler.”
I hum because for the life of me, I can’t figure out what he’d have to be moody about. His every need is catered to and the very second even a whimper escapes his mouth, we run to him and pick him up, so he’s not lacking for attention. “What can we do to make this process easier on him?” Just because I don’t understand it, doesn’t mean I want him to experience it. I’m adick at times, but I’m not a downright bastard. I have feelings, I just don’t always know how to express them. Kids in pain or emotional turmoil sets my teeth on edge.
“Exactly what we’ve been doing,” she tells me as she cleans our little man up and lifts him out of his highchair. “Like everyone else, he has to learn by living it and figuring things out for himself.”
“I don’t like it,” I grumpily reply. “As his dad, I’m supposed to fix shit for him.”
“That’s a problem, Rush,” she says around a sigh. “You put far too much pressure on yourself wanting to ‘fix’ everything for everyone. It’s impossible. You have to let others experience things for themselves. No matter how bad it is and even if there’s some sort of fallout for it.”
“Even if I can prevent it?” I counter.
“Even then,” she answers, nodding her head. “You can’t split yourself into pieces and be everywhere at the same time. It’ll eventually fracture you and you’ll fade away.”
“Nah, that’ll never happen,” I proclaim, shooting her a wink. “I’m indestructible.”
She snorts, saying, “Sure you are, Superman. Think what you will, but you’re not made of steel.”
“No, I’m made of stronger stuff, I’m titanium on the inside, baby. That alloy runs through my veins,” I tease, batting my fists against my chest in a show of strength.
“Now I know you’re full of shit because you bleed red like the rest of us ordinary folk do,” she jokes, giving me a mirthful smile.“If your blood ran silver, we’d be getting you admitted to the hospital.”
I mock my outrage by palming my chest and rubbing my hand over where my heart rests. “You wound me, Van.”
“It’d take a village to wound you, Superman,” she snarkishly tosses over her shoulder as she continues up the staircase. “I’m gonna give him a bath and get him down for the evening. Afterward, I plan on grabbing a throw blanket, sitting on the back porch swing, and unwind with a glass of wine.”
“Is that an invitation?” I inquire, wanting to join her. It sounds like the perfect ending to a fucked up day.
“You always have an open invitation wherever I’m concerned, Rush.” With that, she continues retreating to the second floor and I turn on my heels, heading to our stash of wine so I can toss a bottle into the freezer so it can begin chilling for her.
I have one foot on the ground and the other lifted up onto the railing, pushing us back and forth in the swing. Even the creaking of the chains hooked from the swing to the ceiling of the roof can’t ruin this moment of peaceful solitude. Van is settled against my side, tucked in tight, and my arm is wound around her shoulders as my fingers brush up and down her upper arm. The weather is perfect, not too hot and not too cold—a phenomenon for Texas.
“Why do you think you got aggravated with Elodie earlier?” Van asks, her voice full of curiosity and not damnation. I think that’swhy it's easier for me to open up and expose my skeletons to her—she never makes me feel prosecuted.
I mull it over for a brief second before sharing my conclusion. “Paps was old school. He believed in loyalty, respect, and honesty. He hammered those three traits into mine and Rio’s heads until they became a part of life for us. Elodie is a sweet kid, but here lately, she’s gotten bratty with the way she speaks to the brothers. I’m not sure if it’s an age thing, and she’s testing her limits, but turning a blind eye to it isn’t helping matters. She’s gotten bolder and Icer encourages that behavior. He doesn’t think she does anything wrong, therefore, he doesn’t correct her when it’s needed.”
