He’s an amazing sleeper, although fall daylight saving time was tougher on him than expected.
He’s infatuated with Sophia, smiling anytime she’s near.
He loves his granddad’s motorcycle and whines to sit on it each time he sees it.
There’s a certainty he’s going to have tiny little biker boots and a leather jacket under the Christmas tree this year.
He was Chase from Paw Patrol for Halloween.
Once again no name at the bottom. This woman is doing everything I asked her not to do, and somehow it’s making things easier, not harder like Scorpion insisted.
I tuck the two pictures—one of him walking across the room and the other of him in his little police dog uniform—away for safe keeping.
It’s not lost on me that I’m an incarcerated former cop, and my son dressed up as a police officer for his very first Halloween. Hopefully, he has a shot at being a better man than I am.
Unlike last time, I can’t hold back the tears until I’m alone in my cell. Scorpion shakes his head before walking out and leaving me to wallow.
Chapter 29
Drew
Drew,
Andy turned one last week!
Of course the party was Paw Patrol themed.
The little guy is obsessed with all the characters, but Chase is still his favorite.
Other than wearing the frosting, he wasn’t interested in the cake.
It was probably too sweet for him.
His hatred for vegetables has turned into loving them.
He has eight teeth and uses them on everything.
He’s like a puppy gnawing on anything he can get his hands on.
He’s in a nursery setting twice a week for socialization.
He’s protective over a little girl there named Avery, won’t even let Cooper and Jameson near her.
You can’t tell from the picture because he’s sitting, but he’s very tall for his age. In the seventieth percentile according to his pediatrician.
Not only does he have little boots and a leather jacket under the Christmas tree, but I’m sure Kincaid got him a little helmet to complete the ensemble.
He’s spoiled and loved.
One happy little guy.
The picture shakes in my trembling hand. I’ve come to expect nothing personal about Izzy. She never mentions herself or how she’s doing. She’s sticking to that demand of my letter, but the updates keep coming on Andy.
The picture isn’t a full one, the edge of the right side cut oddly, and I know she was in this picture. Izzy was there, and she cut herself away. She’s not a vindictive person, doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body, so knowing she did this to keep up what I told her breaks my fucking heart.
But I’m too far in. A year into my sentence with many more to go. Seeing her would make things difficult. Seeing my son hurts and somehow heals all at the same time.
Chapter 30
Drew
Drew,
Please don’t worry.
We discovered today that Andy is allergic to peanuts.
Don’t worry. He’s fine.
His symptoms were swollen eyes and redness as you can see.
He had no respiratory distress.
The picture of my son in the tiniest hospital gown I’ve ever seen with a plastic medical band around his little wrist is concerning, but it’s the tears staining the pages that I know came from his mother that has the ability to break me.
I know the pain that dripped on the paper had nothing to do with the fact that she’ll probably never eat her favorite candy again. She was scared, and I know just looking at this picture of Andy in that hospital room made all of those fears come back.
I’m missing all of it, and I love the pictures and updates, but I should be there for both of them. I should’ve been able to hold her in my arms when she cried for him. I should’ve been there for all of it.
Chapter 31
Isabella
“That’s the wrong foot.”
“Mine!”
“Yes, it’s your foot.”
“Boot!”
“Those are your boots, but they won’t be comfortable if you put them on the wrong feet. Let Mommy help you.”
“No! Mine!”
“I’m not trying to take them away, Son. I’m just trying to help.”
“He’s stubborn,” Dad says with a light chuckle as he slides past to go into the kitchen.
“He gets that from his daddy.” I frown, keeping my eyes on Andy rather than looking up at Lawson. “Drew was always fiercely independent.”
“The book I’m reading says to allow them to do things wrong. A little discomfort won’t hurt them, and if it bothers them enough, they’ll correct the issue themselves,” Delilah adds helpfully.
I open my mouth, irritated with everyone offering advice on what to do with my own child, but when I look up, I see a soft, sad smile on her face. She’s read hundreds of books about raising kids since she was informed of her infertility problems seven months ago. I know Lawson is concerned for the obsession, but he’s hesitant to say anything to her. She’s in a very raw place right now and snapping at her when she’s only trying to help wouldn’t be very kind.
“Momma!” I turn back to Andy and apparently giving him a few extra minutes was exactly what he needed. His boots are on the correct feet and he has a wide-toothed grin on his handsome little face.
“Good job, buddy. Are you ready to go across the street for the Easter egg hunt?”
On long legs, he darts to the door, pulling it open while I grab his basket.
He knows not to open the front door, but that doesn’t mean he listens. Like Lawson observed, the boy is insistent on doing things he’s told not to. Sixteen months and going on grown, he keeps me on my toes.
“Hi,” he whispers, his little nose in the crack allowed by the locking mechanism Dad had to install after he snuck outside two weeks ago.
“Who?” Jameson says, running up and shoving Andy out of the way. “Hi.”
“Is it Sophia?” I ask, smiling when Andy squeals.
My son loves his Aunt Sophia, and he’s been impatient for the last two hours since she spoke to him on the phone this morning. I don’t know if it’s the thrill of seeing her or all the candy she promised that’s got him so excited. A combination of both, I imagine.
Making sure Jameson’s face is no longer in the way, I close the door long enough to unlatch it, but it isn’t my best friends smiling face on the other side when I reopen it.
Andy’s Easter basket falls to the floor, bright green, fake grass spilling all around my feet.
“Momma, uh oh! Help.”
Unaware that I’m losing my mind, Andy moves around my feet, helping pick up the mess and shoving it back into his little Paw Patrol basket.
With a stern face and blue eyes I’ve tried desperately to forget, Drew stands on my father’s porch, arms full of wrapped gifts.
“What’s going on?” Lawson asks as he steps into the entry way. “Who is—No way!”
His brother’s excitement gives me the chance I need to take a few steps back. I look away, unable to see Lawson wrap his brother in a hug.