Джей Крауновер - Built

“I know . . . it’s just . . .” I trailed off, not sure how to put my fears into words without sounding like the coward she had accused me of being.

“It’s just that you want him to like you, and you want him to still be your little buddy, but, Zeb . . .” Her tone got stern in that older sister way that meant I better listen to what she had to say. “As a parent, there are times when he’s not going to like you very much at all. So you better get used to it now. It’s your job to do what’s right for him, not what’s easy.”

I lifted a hand to rub it across my beard and moved to tuck my hands in my pockets. “I know. Sayer keeps telling me pretty much the same thing.”

That brought Beryl to a halt as the kids skipped ahead of us to go look at some mountain goats.

“How are things going with the lady lawyer? I didn’t realize you were seeing her outside of the courtroom—officially anyways.”

I shrugged. “She’s making me work around her.” I looked at her out of the side of my eyes. “Sound familiar?”

She blushed a little and pushed some of her dark hair out of her face, and the nippy wind suddenly kicked up. I felt it sting my ears and frowned at Hyde. He needed to put a hat on if we were going to be out in the cold much longer.

“Have you talked to her about it? Why she makes you work around her? I told Wes about Joss’s father, about what happened with you and how it changed me, how it changed my relationship with all men, and I think that’s part of the reason he refused to give up. I also told him about our dad leaving. I never really thought it mattered, but the older I get the more I wonder if that’s part of the reason I fell for the first guy that told me he loved me even though he smacked me across the face five minutes after saying it.”

I swore under my breath at the question and at the memories her words stirred to life. “She won’t talk about much. I know her dad was an asshole. I don’t think he used his hands on her or anything, but she always shuts down when I try to bring the past up. Her mom committed suicide when she was a teenager and I think all of that has led to her being pretty closed off, but when we are alone together, when I get inside, she’s the warmest, sweetest, most thoughtful and caring person I’ve ever met. I just wish I didn’t need a crowbar to get at it all the time.”

Beryl let out a low whistle and reached out to pat my arm. “You know that words can hurt just as much as hands if they are wielded effectively. She could have those walls up for a reason. Just like I did.” She gave me a sad smile. “And losing her mother like that . . . the girl comes with baggage.”

She didn’t just have baggage, like I did. She had a vault full of secrets and emotions she was keeping under lock and key. She didn’t realize I was willing to throw every tool I had at my disposal at her fortress, even if I had to pull out the dynamite and blast my way in.

“She doesn’t talk about it and she runs off when I try to get her to open up.”

Beryl sighed heavily again. “Falling in love after you’ve been hurt so badly is terrifying. You better lace up some tennis shoes and prepare to chase after her if you plan on keeping her around.”

I laughed a little and switched my attention back to the kids.

“Mom, I’m cold.” Joss hollered the statement from where the kids had paused a few yards ahead to wait for us. She grabbed Hyde’s hand and they started walking back toward us.

Beryl tossed her cup in the trash and put her hands in her coat pockets as I took mine out so I could hoist my son up in my arms. His cheek was freezing as he pressed his face next to mine so he could rub his face into my beard.

“I’m cold, too.” He sounded sleepy and I hated that I was going to have to take him back to the foster home he was currently staying in until I could have him with me.

“I know, buddy. We need to get you a hat.” I rubbed a hand over his dark hair and felt even more of my heart settle in his tiny hands.

He pulled back from where he was cuddling into me and looked at me with a miniature scowl that so obviously matched my own I had to fight down a chuckle.

“You don’t wear a hat, Zeb. If you don’t, I don’t. I hate hats.”

I glared at my sister as she hooted out a laugh. The boy had inherited more than my coloring and my height. It seemed like my stubbornness and natural defiance were coursing through him as well.

“I do when it’s cold. I just forgot it today, and when I tell you something like that, you need to know it’s for your own good, Hyde. If you’re cold and a hat will keep you warm, then I’m gonna make you wear a hat even if you don’t want to.”

He seemed to consider it for a second, matching green eyes locked on mine in an unwavering battle of wills. I thought I was going to have to explain that I didn’t want him to catch a cold and that everyone wore a hat in Colorado in the winter, some even when it wasn’t winter, but just as fast as his defiance flared to life it quieted back down and he nodded at me solemnly.

“Okay, Zeb. If you want me to wear a hat so I won’t be cold, then I will.” His eyes widened and a crooked smile that was missing a tooth flashed across his face. “Can it be a Batman hat?”

I snorted out a laugh. “It can be whatever kind of hat you want as long as you wear it.”

Joss heaved a dramatic sigh and asked if we could go get pizza. I was going to say no since I fed Hyde pizza the last time I had him for a visit, but apparently five-year-olds could eat pizza every day and his eyes lit up at the prospect.

It was a short drive to a pizza shop on Colfax, and as we all piled into a booth it ended up being the kids on one side and the adults on the other. I was really happy my niece had decided to take Hyde under her wing. He seemed at ease with her and I thought that maybe spending more time with my family would ease him into understanding I was his father and he wasn’t alone anymore. I was still trying to figure out the best way to tell him, the easiest way to explain the situation, when I heard Joss tell Hyde:

“I don’t see my dad, but that’s okay because I see my gram and Uncle Zeb all the time. And my mom has a man friend named Wes that is really nice. He watches cartoons with me and helps me do homework.”

Hyde nodded sagely like he understood all those words and reached for his plastic cup that had the lid on it.

“I never had a dad, but I had lots of uncles.”

Beryl was leaning forward to derail the touchy subject when Joss turned to the dark-haired little boy and blurted out the words I had been struggling with for weeks. “Uncle Zeb is your dad, so you have a dad now. The best dad ever.”

I opened my mouth in shock as Beryl barked her daughter’s name in horror. I was gaping at my son like a fish as he turned wide eyes in my direction.

“What? It’s true. Why am I getting yelled at?” Joss huffed out the words, but I barely heard them as my son continued to watch me like he was afraid I was going to disappear in a puff of smoke before him.

His head cocked to the side and he lifted his cup to his lips so he could slurp on his soda. When he was done he leaned forward a little bit and asked, “For real?”

I wasn’t sure he really understood what it all meant, so I nodded. “Yeah, for real. I’m your dad, and I’ve been working really hard so that you can come stay with me all the time really soon.”

I waited for him to cry, or to ask a million questions. I waited for him to be happy or upset. I waited for him to do anything, but he just stared at me and continued to play with his cup.

Beryl asked him if he was all right and he nodded without saying anything. I thought I should grab him and go, but the pizza came and he devoured a massive slice, still without saying a word. Joss was pouting because she was in trouble for speaking out of turn, and I knew Beryl was concerned about the anxious tension that was rolling off of me in waves.