Cody turned and ran the car back and forth over the back of the couch while making engine noises.
What the hell was I supposed to do about this? I had a son. I’d had a son for six years and hadn’t known he existed. I almost hadn’t followed the tip about Callie. What might have happened if we didn’t show up? Better question. What kind of hell had we brought down on their headsbecausewe showed up?
A red hot rage boiled in my chest and turned my heart into a molten lava pool that ached with every beat. How had Callie left and never told me about Cody? How had I not found her before now?
She’d spent all that time with our son. My son. I pressed my thumb into the edge of the couch and held it there.
“Can you do the voice?” Cody held up a second car. “The one from before.”
“The one you told me was shit?” I arched a brow as I took the car.
A flush crawled up his neck. “I’m not supposed to say that. Mom said cussing is only for really bad situations, and even though I hear her say words like that, I’m not supposed to repeat them.”
“She’s right. Sometimes they make us feel better, but maybe wait a few years before you add them to your daily vocabulary.” I had no right to lecture him. I couldn’t remember a single day in my life when I hadn’t uttered at least a dozen cuss words. But if Callie had set a precedent, I wasn’t about to cross it with my own opinion.
“They make me feel tough.” Cody refused to look at me.
I kept moving my car toward his. My other hand spasmed in my lap. Did I pat his back? Did I offer to hug him? The fact I didn’t know how to comfort my own son twisted the knife in my gut. “I get that. But you don’t have to say anything to be tough. Look at Diesel. How many words have you heard him say today?”
Cody considered this. “Two.”
“And would you say Diesel is tough?”
His nod caused his hair to flop over his forehead. I pushed it back the same way I’d seen Callie do, then patted his back. “You’re a tough kid. Your mom is proud of you. I’m proud of you, if that matters to you at all.”
A tiny smile flashed, and he ducked his head toward me. “Alfred’s here to call us to dinner.”
“Food’s done.” Diesel spoke from behind me. He hadn’t made a sound as he entered, and the only reason I heard him leave was because I turned toward the kitchen.
Cody giggled and pocketed both cars. “I hope it’s burgers and fries. Or spaghetti. What’s your favorite food?”
“Steak.” I answered without hesitation.
Cody’s lips puckered. “I’d rather have ice cream.”
Dinner passed in a flurry of questions from Cody and responses from whoever thought they had the right answer first.
“I want Colt.” Cody stood after finishing his food.
“What?” I’d lost the thread of the conversation somewhere around Cody’s question about whether squirrels remembered where they hid all their nuts.
“Bed.” Callie’s head tipped to the side in a kind of challenge. “Cody needs to go to bed.”
Oh. I hadn’t realized putting kids to bed was a production. In my head, a kid got tired, they were told to go to bed, and they did. I should’ve known better, especially with my own kid.
I stood and followed Cody to the door. “Right then. Let’s get you to bed.”
Cody raced down the hall and into the room, kicking off his shoes as he went and grabbing a pile of pajamas off the end of the bed. “You can do the check while I change.”
“What check?”
A bone-weary sigh worked up through Cody’s body and left his lips flapping. “Can you explain, Mom?”
Callie joined us in the room. “Monsters.” She pointed at the bed, then the closet and window. “You have to check for monsters, then give the all clear.”
Monsters. Right. I was never going to get this right but damn if I’d give up. I knelt and checked under the bed. “Nothing but a dirty sock.”
“You have to say clear.” Callie remained in the doorway, her shoulder propped on the frame and a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m going to clean the kitchen since Diesel cooked.” She kissed Cody on the forehead when he bounded out of the bathroom.
