Chapter 34
Finn
“ R eady to go, bug?” I ask, plopping Tucker’s tiny cowboy hat on his head.
“Yeah!” He reaches up and adjusts the fit, like I don’t know what I’m doing. It makes me smile. “Is Ash comin’ with us?”
A pang hits me square in the chest as I shake my head. “Not this time, bug. He’s about to go for a run.”
“Dang it!” Tucker stomps his foot, making me chuckle, right before Ash rounds the corner, padding into the kitchen. “Come with us, Ash!”
A small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes curls on Ash’s lips as he leans down and gets to eye level with my son. “Next time, okay?”
“Why not this time?” Tuck whines. There’s a part of me that wonders if Tucker somehow, intuitively, knows something is up with Ash.
“I’m having an off day, is all,” Ash replies, pinching Tucker’s chin and making him giggle. “And going for a run will hopefully help. But I’ll be here when you guys get back.”
Holding up his pinky, he says, “Promise?”
Ash curls his finger around Tuck’s in the “sacred pinky promise” — his words, not mine—that he taught him a few weeks ago and nods. “Promise. Have fun with your dad.”
When he stands up, his eyes meet mine, and he offers me the same forced smile he gave Tucker a minute ago. My hands itch to touch him, and the urge to lean in and kiss him is overwhelming, but I can’t. At least not yet.
“Let me know if you need anythin’ from the store,” I murmur.
“I’m good, but thanks.” Holding up the water bottle in his hand, he adds, “Gonna fill this up and hit the trail.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds before nodding. In the truck, Tucker requests “Ash’s music,” and I must admit, it’s growing on me. And not even just because it reminds me of Ash and the passion he has when he talks about them, but because it’s…really quite good. Sure, it’s different than what I normally listen to, but different isn’t synonymous with bad —a fact that I’m slowly starting to realize Ash has showed me, in more ways than one. Since moving in, he’s opened my eyes and shown me new ways of seeing and feeling things.
Change has always been a bit challenging for me, more than I’d ever care to admit. Repetition, routine, and structure allow me to know what to expect, what’s coming next, and help me plan for mine and my son’s future, and until Ash, I didn’t realize how stuck in my ways I was.
It’s been a week since the party. A week since his sister found out about us. A week since my dad, my brother, and a handful of members of the community all found out about my relationship with Ash. An entire week, and with the way gossip spreads like wildfire in the summer heat around this town, I’m willing to bet there isn’t a single soul who doesn’t know now. I’ll admit, having everybody find out I’m bisexual in such a loud, aggressive manner is a lot. In a perfect world, I would’ve preferred to tell my family myself—and privately—before we went public with it, but that’s not how it worked out. After sitting with it for a week, I’ve come to realize I’m okay with it. I’m okay with everyone knowing, okay with it being out in the open now.
My dad, my brother, and August have been surprisingly great about giving me space this week. They all three, separately, made sure I knew they were there for me and supported me whenever I felt comfortable talking about it, but I haven’t wanted to. Not yet. Not until I know Ash is okay.
And he’s not right now. Okay, that is. He’s tried reaching out to Violet a couple of times, but I know for the most part, he’s trying to respect her space. Her silence is slicing him open, though. I can see it, even if he tries to hide it. This boiling hot, fierce protectiveness I feel over Ash has nearly knocked me off my feet more times than I can count this week. He’s hurt, and I know he feels guilty, and he’s down on himself. I fucking hate it. I would give anything to be able to take that pain from him.
Finding a healthy balance of giving him space to feel how he feels, and work through everything, while also letting him know I’m there for him has been a challenge. I don’t want to smother him, but I also don’t want him to think he can’t lean on me. I want him to lean on me. I want him to pass the hurt off to me.
He and Tucker have had a busy week, which seems to be helping, even if only a little bit. They went to some kids’ musical a few towns over on Tuesday, which Tucker hasn’t stopped gushing about since. They went to the lake with Tripp a few days ago, where they built a sandcastle nearly as tall as Tuck. Ash sent me a picture of him standing beside it, and the smile on my son’s face was so genuine and bright. Then yesterday morning, Ash took Tucker to town, where there was apparently a kids’ yoga class being offered.
As we laid in bed last night, he told me all about it, even though Tucker already did during bathtime. The pride and love in his tone whenever he talks about Tuck never fails to steal my breath away. Purposely never letting women I’ve dated around my son, I never knew how meaningful and rewarding it is to watch somebody you care deeply about love your child like their own. I doubt it’ll ever stop making my heart skip a beat.
I’ve been toying with the idea of adding on to the small barn in my backyard for a while. Maybe installing some air conditioning and proper walls, adding a movie theater or something out there. So, that’s what Tuck and I are doing today. Well, what we’re starting on, I should say. I’ve got to clear out a patch of the yard, big enough for the space I’m looking to add to the already established barn. Luckily, I know what I’m doing because I hand built the barn originally, so it’s just a matter of getting all the supplies I need.
Once we leave the hardware store, we zip over to the store across the street, picking up enough groceries to get us through the week. Ash typically does the grocery shopping for the house, something he started doing without being asked, but he has enough on his mind, so I’m doing it so he doesn’t have to worry about it.
“Daddy, we should get some of these for Ash.” Glancing down, Tucker’s holding up a box of Ash’s favorite tea.
I smile down at my son, my chest swelling at how thoughtful he is. “Yeah?”
He nods, face serious as he suggests, “With the cookies he likes. It’ll cheer him up.”
Squeezing his shoulder, I say, “Think you’re right, bug. I think it would absolutely cheer him up.”
“So, can we?”
“Yeah, of course.”
With the tea in the cart, we continue down the other aisles, getting everything we need before strolling toward the bakery. Tucker runs over to the table that houses the peanut butter blossom cookies Ash can’t get enough of. They always have them here, and he can never make a trip without securing a pack or two. It’s become almost a nightly tradition with him and Tucker. After dinner, they’ll sit on the porch, a chocolate milk for Tucker and a hot tea for Ash, and each eat a cookie while they watch Bubba run around with the chickens.
And like the lovesick man I am, I’ll watch them from the kitchen window as I do the dishes. Ash has so effortlessly woven his way into our lives, it’s like he was always meant to be here. The relationship he has with Tucker, their bond, and how naturally it has felt opening myself up to him. It truly feels like Ash was our missing piece.
Tossing the cookies into the cart, Tucker stops and clasps his hands together in front of himself before looking up at me with another serious expression on his face. “Daddy, I have a question.”
“Okay. Let’s hear it, bug.”
“Is Ash going to be my mommy?”
Air getting lodged in my throat, I cough, pounding a fist to my chest. “What do you mean by that?” I ask, curiosity welling up inside me.
“Well, you know how in movies, some families have a mommy and a daddy?”
“Yeah…”
“Our house only has a daddy,” he explains, and an ache forms in my chest. I always knew the day would come when he’d realize our home looks a little different than others. He’s asked about his mom before, but not much. I’m very open with him—or as much as I can be for his age—but he’s never seemed bothered by it. “And, well, maybe Ash can be the mommy.”
My heart thunders as my son asks me this loaded question in the middle of the bakery at the grocery store. “Did you think Cassie could be the mommy in our house too?” I ask, trying to gauge where the question is coming from.
His face scrunches up. “No, that’s different.”
I nod, like I understand. I don’t. “She lived with us too. What’s different about it?”
“Cassie was my babysitter, dad,” he drawls, rolling his eyes like he thinks I’m clueless. “Ash is way more than that.”
My stomach tightens as I take in what he’s saying.
“I see.” I nod again, trying to choose my words. “In what way is he more than that in your eyes?”
“Ash is family,” he states, so matter-of-factly. “And you look at him the same way the daddies in the movies look at the mommies. So, I thought maybe he would be my mommy.”
Emotion clogs my throat, blood rushing in my ears. I’m taken aback by how much Tucker’s noticed without me realizing it. I clearly didn’t give him enough credit for how perceptive he is. Or I gave myself too much credit for how slick I am at hiding things. I clear my throat, trying to find my voice.
“Well, how would you feel about that, bug?”
Zero hesitation. “I know mommies are usually girls, but I already have you as a daddy, which is why he can be the mommy.”
An unexpected chuckle bubbles past my lips at his sweet innocence.
“Lots of people have two daddies,” I explain, unable to believe we’re still standing in the bakery. “Just like lots of people have two mommies, or a mom and a dad. Families come in all shapes and sizes, bug, and there’s no right way to be a family.”
His brows knit as he, I’m sure, is trying to grasp everything I’ve told him. “Could a boy be a mommy if he wanted?”
“Well, I don’t see why not.” I can’t help but wish I was more prepared to have this conversation with my son. For all I know, I’m saying everything wrong, and he’ll be sitting in therapy in fifteen years because of me and my god-awful attempt at explaining family.
Peering up at me with wide, curious eyes, Tucker says, “Think Ash would be okay if I called him mommy?”
I knew it was coming before he uttered a word, but it makes my throat thick with emotion regardless. “I don’t know, bug. You’d have to ask him.”
Tucker shrugs, a smile brightening his face. “Cool!”
And that’s that. We finish shopping and get in line to check out. When it’s almost our turn, Tucker turns and peers up at me. “I love Ash.”
His words have my heart racing and a smile working up my face. “Me too, bug,” I reply as casually as I can manage, meaning it with every bone in my body.