Nick #2
“Nick is my friend,” Grady answers with a smile.
“He picks me up from school and goes on the big slide with me and plays dinosaurs with me.” He gasps.
“And he makes me dinosaur nuggets—but don't worry, they're made of vegetables, and you can't even taste them.
And sometimes, he even lets me stay up until eight-thirty—but I'm not s'posed to tell Mommy that.”
Declan chuckles. “Your secret is safe with me.” He eyes me suspiciously. “That's a very involved friendship, wouldn't you say, Crawford?”
I slowly rise to my full height, gritting my teeth.
I want nothing more than to tell Grady that I'm his father.
Hell, knowing what I know now, I would've told him the day we met.
Tiffany has agreed to tell him soon, and as much as that frustrates me that “soon” hasn't come yet, I refuse to let this self-righteous asshole rob Grady of a moment that will shape the rest of his life
“Declan, I need you to stop right there. Please.”
He narrows his eyes, quietly assessing me before tapping his nose. “Understood.” He glances down at my son. “Nice to meet you, Grady. Y'all enjoy the rest of the evening.” He gives a curt nod before stalking off into the crowd.
I really, really don't like that guy.
“Look, Nick!” Grady steals my attention, holding his treat in victory. “I got candy!”
“Yum!” I pat his head. “That's a good one, too”
He pushes up his glasses, inspecting the orange packaging. “Is it chocolate?”
I pause. “Haven't you ever had a Reeese's peanut butter cup before?”
He shakes his head. “I don't eat peanuts.”
“Well, this is peanut butter—which is arguably much better—covered with chocolate. It's my favorite.”
His eyes light up, proudly placing the candy into a pumpkin bucket.
“C’mon. Let's get you some more treats.”
We weave from booth to booth, Grady determined to try every game in sight.
He tosses rings, lobs beanbags, and proudly catches brightly colored fish from a kiddie pool.
He drags me into a photo booth, insisting we wear matching pink boas while making a series of silly faces.
His bucket grows heavier with every stop until he finally asks me to carry it.
At the far end of the church grounds, there's a refreshment area where visitors can purchase snacks and drinks before taking a seat at one of the surrounding picnic tables. Grady and I share a large pretzel—minus the “white stuff”—while he enjoys a watermelon-flavored snow cone.
I take a few pictures and send them to Tiffany with well wishes. She responds with a heart emoji, which is somewhat reassuring. At least she's not dead.
“I've never seen one in the wild before!” Julian appears behind us, adopting an overly-exaggerated, overly-terrible Australian accent. “It's a Grady-saurus Rex!”
Grady giggles into his cupped hands. “That's not a real dinosaur!”
Julian raises an eyebrow. “It's not?”
With a wide smile, Grady shakes his head.
“Then what kind of dinosaur are you?”
“It's just a costume,” he says. “I'm a dancing dinosaur.”
“Ohhhhh … the Tyrannosaurus Cut-a-Rugus.”
“That's so silly!”
“I agree with Grady,” Chelsea teases. She guides the twins in their princess outfits to take a seat at the picnic table while Lizzie—a witch—sits down on the opposite side. “Whew, there are so many people here. Are y’all having fun?”
Grady nods eagerly, taking another sip of his snowcone.
“This is a really nice setup.” I look back over the large gathering of people, bustling between games. “Never thought I'd be at church on Halloween.”
“I feel like there's a devil joke in here somewhere,” Chelsea muses before turning to her kids. “Alright, I'm taking orders. What do we want?”
As the girls study the menu, Julian sidles up beside me, nudging my shoulder. “?Qué pasó? Is Tiffany okay?”
I grimace. “I don't know. She looked and sounded awful, but ...”
“But what?”
I lower my voice. “On the phone and in person, she kept spacing out. Her words were slurring.”
Julian's brow furrows. “You think alcohol?”
I chuff. “I don't know when she'd have found the time, but it wouldn't surprise me.”
“You don't think ... drugs?”
I hesitate. “No. At least ... I hope not.”
Julian rubs a hand over his forehead, muttering a curse under his breath. “Is he okay?” He nods toward Grady.
“Yeah, I think so. He was clingy on the ride over, but sudden changes throw him off.”
“What are you gonna do?”
I watch Grady laugh as he shows the girls his overflowing pumpkin bucket.
“What can I do, Santi?”
Julian steals a package of candy corn from his daughters’ stash.
"Honestly, you gotta start trusting your instincts.
You're a damn good doctor, Nick. You've saved lives because you sense things before anyone else can.” He tears open the package.
“If something about tonight doesn't sit right with you—”
“I think I'm making quite the jump to a conclusion, don't you think?” I chuff. “I don't know this woman—not really. We knew each other in a friendly way six years ago. I can't accuse her of something nefarious when she could very well be sick.”
If I did that, I surely would lose my son.
“There's a difference between accusing and paying attention, Crawford. You know that.” He grabs another piece. “But between the bizarre story behind the field trip debacle and now this, I don't think your concern is unwarranted, especially with …” He clears his throat, glancing down at Grady.
Julian is right. Part of being Grady’s father means protecting him. Whether Tiffany was sick, drunk, or something else entirely, I couldn't keep pretending everything would somehow work itself out.
I've put it off long enough.
Monday, I'm calling a lawyer.
Julian offers candy corn to me. I wave it away. “What happened to no sugar?”
“It doesn't count on Halloween, cabrón.” He laughs, tossing back another piece.
“Daddy, look!” Vera squeals, pointing to a row of bounce houses near the picnic tables. “There's a castle! Can we go?”
“Please, Daddy, please?” Birdie chimes in.
Julian playfully sighs. “Okay, ven conmigo, mijas.”
I hook my arm around Grady, pulling him against my side. “Do you want to go jump in the bounce house?”
He eagerly nods, climbing down from the picnic table and assaulting me with his tail and foam spikes. Instinctively, he holds up his little hand, and I take it, holding it firmly in my palm.
After letting Chelsea know the change in plans, we head over to the bounce houses. The girls rip off their shoes and jump right into the pink castle. Within seconds, they're poking their heads out, begging for their dad to join them.
Grady, on the other hand, lingers near the entrance, carefully observing all the other children.
I squat down to his eye level. “Wanna give it a try?”
He slowly nods,quietly sittting down and dutifully taking off his sneakers.
Lizzie pops her head out of the tent. “Grady, c’mon!” She holds out her hand, and that's all the encouragement he needs. Moments later, my dancing dinosaur is jumping and tumbling with the other kids, a huge grin stretched across his face.
I pull out my phone to record a quick video when a sharp bang against the metal siding of one of the refreshment trailers steals my attention.
I glance over, narrowing my eyes toward a dimly lit corner where a man stands with his back to me, his arms flying wildly as he shouts at someone hidden from view.
“Santi,” I call to Julian. “Watch Grady. I'll be right back.”
I cautiously make my way over, and as I get closer, I realize the man's broad frame is blocking a woman from my view.
“... after everything I have done for you, you reported me?” His palm hits the siding again, making me flinch.
A small voice answers, too soft for me to make out.
“Oh, don't start acting scared now.” He steps closer. “You wanted the state involved. Congratulations.” He paces in a circle. “Do you enjoy playing the victim? Do you?” he growls. “Unbelievable!”
“Hey!” I shout into the darkness. “I think you need to step back and take a breather, sir.”
He turns around, and I am met with the cunning smile of Declan. “Crawford, this is a private moment with me and my wife. Leave.”
“I can't do that. I—”
“Nick?”
My heart seizes against my ribs.
That voice—her kind, sweet voice … the one that teases and laughs with me, the one that tells me that she somehow sees something decent in me...
The voice that openly loves my son …
It's laced with fear.
And I am fucking livid.
“Get the fuck away from her.”