Besides, there was a beautiful woman outside, waiting in an air-conditioned flower van for me, and making her wait wasn’t a habit I wanted to get into.And the little boy waiting for me two hundred miles away could ease my sorry heart with one smile.I wanted—needed—to get back to him.
No man would ever make me miss another moment of Stu’s life for as long as I lived.I’d vowed it to myself and to Stu, and I wasn’t planning to go back on my word.
William Messer, Jr.didn’t say anything more as I walked out of his trailer, and the hot sun touched my skin again, but this time it kissed me and wrapped me up like a soft blanket on a long winter’s night.
When I got back to AJ’s van and hopped in, I took hold of her hand and squeezed.
“One father down, one to go?”she asked uneasily, worried about the outcome of my conversation with William.
“Let’s go home.”
“You don’t want to tell me what happened?”
“I do and I will, but it doesn’t matter.”
Smiling at the woman I loved, I knew it was finally true.Who my father was or wasn’t didn’t make a bit of difference in my life.The only things that mattered to me were the people who loved me, who I loved right back, more than I ever thought I could.If I had AJ and Stu in my life, I was luckier than any prince or king.
And there was nothing, not one damn thing, in this world that could ever make me say different.
Epilogue
Dixon
Sprawledon Stu’s bed at Bax’s house, my legs hung over one side and Stu’s dangled over the other, but we both stared up at his bedroom ceiling, trying to come up with an ending for the story he’d helped me write.
I’d been working on it for two months.The story came to me in the days and nights I spent alone in the Cascades, but in my downtime over the last couple months, I typed it out on AJ’s old computer and read it to Stu before bed most nights.For a five-year-old, the kid had a lot of feedback.Although, most of it was pretty good, so I’d stay up late, rewriting and fine-tuning.
But now, the thought of turning it into an actual book that strangers might read scared the shit out of me, and the fear had given me my first attack of writer’s block.
“What about if the elf prince wins a big contest,” Stu suggested.“It could be a fishin’ contest.He’d get a big prize, and then the maiden would kiss him.The end.Bada bing, bada boom!”He flipped onto his stomach and pushed up on his elbows.“Now canwego fishin’?”
I laughed, hoping that, in his eyes, things would always be so simple.“Sure, kid, but this time you’re tyin’ your own lure?—”
The bedroom door creaked open, and my brother tossed a sketchpad at my head.“I’m comin’ too,” Bax said, “just as soon as you have a look through that.”
“What is it?”I asked, sitting up and grabbing the pad before it fell to the floor.
Stu army-crawled and sat next to me.He flipped the notebook open to the first page, which was a drawing Bax had done of?—
“What is this?”I said again, but I knew exactly what I was looking at.“This is my character.It’s Jaze the Brave of Loftovel.”Running a finger over my brother’s drawing, the words I wanted to say got caught on awe.“Th-this isexactlyhow I picture him in my head.How did you know?”
Bax shrugged.“Y’all been in this room for the last two months, chatterin’ and tellin’ stories, and I heard you complainin’ to Abey about needin’ character art and mock-ups for the book.So, there ya go.”
“Good job, Daddy,” Stu said, and he hopped off the bed and skipped over to pat Bax’s arm.“I’m gonna go get the worms.”
Bax chuckled when Stu left the room.“Kid’s got food and fishin’ on the brain.”
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I said, still staring at the drawing, and when I flipped to the second page, the fictional town of Loftovel I’d been dreaming up for years came to life.Bax had even drawn a life-like version of the high towers and castle Stu and I had built out of Legos.“This is amazing.”
“Thanks.”
I stood and looked at him.“Seriously, Bax.I knew you could draw, but this is next level.”
“Well, good then.Glad you like it.I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I walked by one day when you and Stu were goin’ on about the story, and I guess I kinda liked it, so I grabbed my sketchbook and sat outside the door while you talked.And then you were here all the time, and sometimes I get bored.Plus, I mean, I kinda owe you.”
“You owe me?Owe me for what?”
“Y’know, for my…” He shifted on his feet and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.“I owe you for what my dad did.How he treated you, and I never knew how bad it got.Maybe I didn’t wanna know.I just… I’m sorry.”
