I’m a fucking mess.
No one prepared me for this. No one said it would be this hard. Why the hell didn’t this shit come with a warning label?
Finley walks around the bed and holds out her hand, and I take it. Every step I take is like I’m leaving a piece of myself behind. It doesn’t feel right. How do parents do this for years with a sick child? I don’t know how I’d cope.
“I’ll stay with him,” Owen volunteers and takes the seat I was just at. “I can work from my phone. I’ve showered and eaten already.”
“Thank you, Owen. Thank you so much,” I say, wanting to give him a hug, but I hold back.
“He’s my nephew. Someone has to stay. I’m glad to do it. Now go; you fucking reek.” He waves his hand in front of his face, and I lift my arm to do a sniff test.
My eyes water. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We didn’t want to seem like we were being rude in a time of stress,” Jaxon says while pulling Quinn to his side.
“Whatever, don’t listen to them. I wanted to tell you straight up, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They were worried about your feelings. As if your feelings would be hurt more than they already are because the little chipmunk isn’t doing well. I told them you wouldn’t care. See? Didn’t I say he wouldn’t care? You guys have got to start listening to me,” Zeke rambles on as he exits the room.
“When is he leaving?” Heaven says as we mosey down the hall.
I take one quick look at Dillon before I can’t anymore, and Finley’s hand never leaves mine. Owen bends down to get something out of a bag, and I see it’s a children’s book. Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.
Knowing he is in good hands, I can breathe a bit easier and start my journey home. Maybe I can paint his room and put his bed together. When he comes home, because he will, I want him to be comfortable. If he is going to die, he is going to die in comfort, not in some cold hospital room where he isn’t surrounded by the things he loves.
I pass a few nurses and the closer I get to the automatic doors, the heavier my feet feel. I rub my eyes to stay awake and when I step outside, the warmth of the sun only makes my fatigue worse.
“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you home,” Jaxon says.
I open the door for Finley to climb in first, and when she’s safe and secure, I start to climb in but not before my hackles rise. I look over my shoulder and survey my surroundings to see if there is anything out of the ordinary.
Maybe I’m just paranoid from being overtired.
I climb in the truck and close the door, but the instinct of staying alert and awake overcomes me. I pull Finley to my side and tuck her against me. Leaning my head against the window, Jaxon starts the truck, and the rumble has my eyes shutting, ready for rest.
The truck jerks forward, and it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep.
“Hey,” Jaxon says, shaking my leg. “We’re home.”
“Sorry, I was more tired than I thought,” I say, yawning.
“We know. It’s okay.” Jaxon gives me a big grin, then slaps my leg again. “Come on, let’s go inside. Julia has warm food waiting and an ice cold beer with your name on it.”
“Mmm,” I hum appreciatively. I could use three or four beers with how shitty I feel.
“I want one,” Finley says as I help her out of the truck by grabbing her waist.
“You aren’t twenty-one yet.”
Heaven chuckles and then coughs to cover it up. “Robbing the cradle, aren’t we, Grayson?”
I smack him on the back of the head. “Shut up.”
“Or you could say I’m robbing the nursing home instead.” Finley pokes me in my side, and I jump away, ticklish.
“I’m not that old. I’m in my prime! And don’t touch my side.” I rub it while she wiggles her fingers at me playfully.
Or more like a threat.
I bolt inside to run away from her, and the smell of stew hits me in the face. I nearly run into Julia who is greeting us with beer and she sidesteps just in time before I bowl her over.
“Sorry, Julia.” I feel bad for having a good time and smiling when Dillon is in the hospital, but I know that’s Finley’s goal. She wants me to be happy.
“It’s okay. I’m setting the table. Go get washed up,” she says, scolding me like a grandmother does her grandchildren.
“Now you’re saying I smell too. Everyone is a load of honesty today,” I say, bypassing the big couches in the living room. I head down the hall with Finley right behind me. When I get to my room, I glance at Dillon’s door next to mine.
It’s open.
I remember leaving it closed.
“Where are you going?” Finley asks, tugging at my shirt.
“I’m making sure everything is okay. I remember closing this.” I kick the door open a bit more, blocking Finley so whoever is in here can’t get to her, when my jaw drops.
The room is painted.
The furniture is put together.
His race car bed, a real one, not some cheap plastic bullshit, is all set up. Everything is in place and ready for him to come home.
“Oh wow,” Finley says as she steps inside, looking at every corner.
I brush a hand over my mouth, and the guys huddle up in the doorway. Heaven is practically shaking with excitement. “Do you like it? Do you?”
“He better fuckin’ like it. Got paint on my good shoes for this kid,” Zeke says, puffing on a cigar, and he sends me a wink.
The walls are painted blue with a racecar track design. He has his own computer, bookshelf, and closet full of new clothes.
“You guys did all this?” I ask.
“We wanted you to spend time with him when he came home. We didn’t want you to worry about setting his room up. We’re family. This is what family does,” Jaxon states simply.
“Thank you, guys.” I’m at a loss for words. I’m so damn tired, and I didn’t feel like doing this today, but they did. I can’t believe it. “Do you really think he’ll ever come home and get to see this?” The underlying question is, ‘do you think he’ll die before he gets the chance to come home?’ I don’t have the strength to say that, though. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.
“He is his father’s son. He’s going to come home,” Sebastian says.
“Grayson! Grayson!” Maggie yells my name from down the hall, and her heels are clicking fast, telling me she’s running.
I walk out the door and see a frazzled, exhausted social worker with tears in her eyes. “What is it?” I ask, not liking the emotion plastered all over his face.
“Dillon’s mom. Kendall. She wants him back.”
I grip the edge of the door so hard the wood creaks. “That bitch isn’t getting my kid back,” I say.
“And he is already lawyered up,” Zeke finger quotes and stands next to me.
“She doesn’t have a strong case, but courts side with the mother all the time. You’re already his legal guardian, so it might be easier than we think, but she’s unstable. I don’t know the lengths she’ll go to.”
Let her come to me. Let her threaten to take Dillon. I’ll put a bullet between her eyes and feed her to the fucking fish.