Chapter 32
Cricket
“Wait for Mommy, Jacob?”
Famous last words. He’s holding his cowboy hat on his head, making a mad dash around the back corner of the house before I’ve had a chance to lock the vehicle. I rush after him since Griffin has made this house his mission, and the back has become a construction zone.
Before I pass his truck, Griffin steps out with Jacob already in his arms. “Missing something?”
I smile from just everything. “Seems you found it.”
“I think he found me. I was up on the ladder. He was three rungs up before I had to jump off and grab him to impede his progress.” He picks Jacob up under his arms and holds him out to the side like a stinky shoe just so he can give me a kiss without him catching us.
I giggle and then lick my lips before he brings Jacob around to face me again. Setting him down, he says, “Hey, Champ, I found some old spray paint in the garage.” He glances at me. “I was thinking we could do art on this wood I pulled off the wall. What do you think?”
“I think he’d love it.”
Turning back to Jacob, he says, “Your mom said yes.”
“Yes!” Jacob fist pumps the air and then bumps Griffin’s hand. He grabs Griffin’s hand and starts tugging him toward the back again.
What a goofball Griffin is, acting like this kid is yanking him.
It’s so adorable that my heart melts. Following them, I take it wide around the back to get a look at the changes.
My feet come to an abrupt halt, almost jerking me forward.
New boards are littered throughout the back siding, the shutters are down, paint colors are being sampled at the far end, and the porch is covered in fresh stain.
“How did you get so much done in the past few days?”
His casual shrug doesn’t cover his tremendous progress. “I have time on my hands.”
“Are you going to renovate this whole house by yourself?”
Standing a few feet away, he turns back to look at the house again as if he’s not decided.
“I’ll do what I can. I’m not an electrician or plumber, and I don’t plan to acquire those skills.
I prefer to leave those things to the professionals.
Baylor, Tagger, my dad, and even Beckett have been out here to survey the damage and offered to help with the other stuff. ”
I walk over to where they are. Griffin has boards laid out flat in the grass, rows stacked on top of each other.
Spray cans line one side and are color coordinated from brightest to darkest. I won’t mention it, but I do think it’s cute that he did that.
“I love how your family does so much for each other.”
“That’s what families d—” The comment was so natural and off the cuff, but he catches himself, and I know why.
My family doesn’t do that. Jacob’s Dover side doesn’t.
It makes me grateful to connect with Jacob’s other side of the family even more.
Not that I needed a reason when I have Griffin right in front of me.
Now if I can only convince him to start staying over at mine at night . . . I get his hesitation. My family. Enough said.
Kneeling away from me, he sits back to rub the back of my leg. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You’re not wrong.
That is what families should do. Instead, mine is more divided than ever.
” Do I drag our business out into the open?
It’s not something I’ve ever done before.
The Dovers are vaults when it comes to family secrets.
It’s probably why we know so little about each other.
So freaking sad. Another reason to be so thankful I have Savvy in my life.
We can tell each other anything. Though I haven’t talked to her about my brother and his plans.
No particular reason, other than I was waiting to hear from him again.
He doesn’t seem to be making plans to jump ship yet, so I’m not rocking this boat by bringing it up.
“Orange,” Jacob says, getting up from the grass and running to grab the can. He hands it to Griffin. “Show me.” He’s having a ball. I’m just happy for the distraction.
Griffin clips something to the nozzle and hands it to Jacob. “You squeeze this handle with both hands, and it will spray paint everywhere. Remember what I told you when we came over here?”
“Keep the paint on the canvas. What’s the canvas?”
“The wood.” Griffin taps it. “This is the canvas. Okay?”
Jacob squeezes, hitting him right on the arm. “Not the canvas,” he says, his mouth flattening as he turns slowly away as if Griffin won’t notice.
Looking up at me, Griffin says, “It’s just an old undershirt.” But he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. He moves next to Jacob again and says, “This time, paint the wood. Not your da. . . not your friends.”
“Not my friends.” I don’t like the devious look I get from Jacob before he puts both hands on the lever again.
“Not your friends. Not your Mommy.” Oh no.
I grab his hat, not wanting it ruined by paint, and rush to the porch to set it down.
I don’t mind the distance when paint is involved.
He squeezes, spraying orange paint exactly where it should go—on the wood.
“Good job, buddy,” I say, moving in a little closer again. He doesn’t stop, now getting the hang of it and letting his creativity flow.
Griffin joins him with royal blue on his side of the wood, but instead of a design, he writes Jacob’s name. The paint sputters on the C and sprays air after he gets a barely readable O. He stands and steps back next to me. “It’s old paint. I’ll just use another . . .”
I watch as he walks up to the wood again, standing with his hands planted on his sides. Jacob’s having way more fun, especially since no one is monitoring the situation. He’s doing just fine, so why ruin the good time?
But Griffin, on the other hand, dips his head down and rubs the bridge of his nose. I move in behind him to rub his back with my hand and quickly place a kiss there. “What’s wrong?”
“His name.” He turns back to face me.
Jacob drops the can. “I want a new color.”
Griffin’s eyes are set on mine when he replies, “Pick any color you want, Champ.”
“You named him Jacob.”
I don’t get it. The question is lost in translation between us. “Yes.” Ohhhh. My eyes dart to the wood where his name remains unfinished. JACO.
When I look back at him, he says, “You named him Jacob for Jaco Beach.”
“The details sometimes slip away from me.” It’s not a reason to be upset, and he’s not, but I do feel the need to explain myself.
“I was . . . alone. I felt so alone. Even with my cousin by my side at the hospital, I wanted you there. I was running every moment we shared, every word you said through my mind. I had your hat sitting on my belly when they were wheeling me to the birthing room. When they asked me what his name was, I said Jaco but corrected myself. His name is Jacob. Jacob Justin.”
Jacob is tugging on Griffin’s jeans so he’ll put the lever on the can of yellow paint. He bends down and swaps out the contraption, but I see him stop to look at Jacob, to really look into his son’s eyes. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” His voice is sweet, but it was how he looked at Griffin, a bond already formed, that has my heart racing. I love them together.
“You should tell him, Griffin.”
He stands, the minutest shake of his head backs the confusion populating his eyes. “Tell him what?”
“Who you really are.”
His gaze whips back to our son before it meets mine again. “Are you sure?”
“It’s not up to me anymore. If it feels like the right time to you, I support you.”
Searching my eyes for any doubt comes up empty for him. Reaching out to take my hand in his, he kisses my palm, and with glossy eyes, he whispers, “Thank you.”
The feel of his lips lingering on my skin causes goose bumps to ripple up my arm. “You don’t need to thank me for you telling him what he should have known all along.”
“I was thanking you for giving me a child. It’s not something I envisioned ever having, but now that I do, I can’t imagine life without him.”
His realization is one I had a long time ago. My life is better because Jacob is in it. Now I get to spend time with his father. Life is good. “It’s funny how that works.”
Not bothering to hide us anymore, he kisses my cheek, then turns back around. “Hey, Champ, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes.”
“Sure.” He’s squeezing the lever so hard, but nothing is coming out. “It’s broken.”
“We have more, but how about we go talk on the porch?” Jacob takes his offered hand, and the two of them walk to the back of the house. Griffin holds the hat so Jacob can sit next to him.
I wait for it because I know it’s coming. Like everything else, one thing leads to another, and secrets don’t stay buried forever. His gaze slides up from the hat. He says, “Jacob Justin.”
Cutting through the grass, I think back to so many moments when that hat kept me company and filled in for the partner I didn’t have.
I wore it in the middle of the night while feeding my baby.
I took photos of him on his first birthday wearing it.
“I looked at that label more times than I can remember. Justin. The brand just came to mind when I needed a name that meant something. That hat was the only tangible thing I had from our night together, the only souvenir I got.” I laugh. “Other than Jacob.”
“I not souvenir,” he states defiantly even if not said perfectly. He doesn’t even know what a souvenir is, which makes me laugh a little louder.
“You’re my baby.”
“I’m big boy. Almost,” he says, holding up four fingers again.
Griffin asks, “Almost how old?”
Turning to look up at him, Jacob grins, the little goose. “Four.”
“Yeah, four. Exciting stuff.” He looks at me and laughs. “They’re quality hats.” Griffin’s smile spreads like wildfire across his face as he sets the hat on his son’s head. “I was wondering if you had plans for your birthday next weekend?” He glances at me.
I reply, “We were having cake and ice cream at the house with Savvy and Judy.”
Jacob’s eyes brighten. “Cake!”
Griffin asks, “What do you think about having a little party at the ranch with my family?”
“I want that.” Jacob hops on his butt down the steps and then climbs back up. “Cake with Griffin.”
“I can’t wait,” I say, sitting on the other side of Jacob. My eyes meet Griffin’s over his head, and I nod. He doesn’t need the go-ahead. He already has it, but I just want him to know I’m here to support him as well.
Griffin wraps his arm around Jacob’s shoulders and brings him into his fold. “I have some great news to share with you, Champ.”