Chapter Twelve – When This Is Over
Chapter Twelve
Parker
WHEN THIS IS OVER
Performed by Goran
SEVEN YEARS AGO
HIM: Kermit, really? You sent me a stuffed frog?
HER: That’s what they call you SEALs, right? Frogs? Congratulations on making it through BUD/S, Kermit.
HIM: If the team finds this out, they’ll initiate me with a new nickname.
HER: And Baywatch is so much better than Kermit?
HIM: *** one-fingered emoji *** At least Parker Stevenson and his lifeguard pals were tough guys. They weren’t little green puppets.
Later
HIM: Damn it, Ducky. They’ve made Kermit our group mascot. How will we strike fear into our enemies with a puppet on our dashboard?
HER: Bait and switch. They’ll think you’re pushovers, and then you’ll prove just how wrong they are.
PRESENT DAY
Four weeks. A month had gone by since I’d brought Will’s body home. I’d been in charge of Theo for thirty-one days, but after what had happened today, I wasn’t sure I was any better at taking care of him than I’d been in the beginning .
We’d done nothing but sit on the couch, brainlessly watching dog shows, for the first week. After that, I’d realized I needed to kick my ass into gear before we became melted piles of goop. So, I’d done what I was known best for doing—I’d gone into research-and-planning mode.
I’d inhaled dozens of books and blog posts on parenting. I’d even watched a slew of social media reels and videos, hoping to extract the best advice and assemble it into a cohesive strategy. I’d learned more about parenting than I’d ever wanted to know.
Whenever my teammates had popped by to check on Theo and me, they’d made jokes about the “Daddy Workshop” I’d put together, asking if I’d start offering classes.
But what the fuck else was I supposed to do?
Theo deserved someone knowledgeable, someone who would consider a kid’s wants and needs but also knew how to say no and set boundaries, which I’d failed at miserably in those first horrifying days.
But now, we’d found a routine. We had meals at a set time, and he played outside as much as possible in the mornings and worked out with me in the afternoons.
He’d even learned to ride his bike without the training wheels.
Watching him pedal, watching his tiny legs and body balance the bike, had curled a strange sort of pride and love inside me.
My smile had been as wide as his when he’d turned the bike around without falling off and rode straight back to me.
I’d thought I’d done at least one damn thing right.
But not today. Today had been another failure.
I’d dropped him off at a preschool not far from my house for the first time and almost had a panic attack. Leaving him there with Dog tucked under his armpit, looking at me with the saddest eyes I’d seen on him since the funeral, had just about undone me.
Once I’d gotten back to my truck, I’d been shaking so hard I couldn’t even start the damn thing.
I’d put my head on the steering wheel and inhaled slowly and painfully, trying to calm myself down.
Eventually, I’d turned the key and headed toward Will’s apartment, where our teammates were meeting me to help clear it out.
I’d barely made it to the complex and was bounding up the steps when I received the call from the preschool.
“Mr. Steele, you’ll have to come get your son. ”
The handful of words had the panic roaring back to life. It had been so quick and so harsh that I hadn’t even bothered to correct the woman’s misconception about Theo being mine.
“What happened?” I’d demanded, turning and leaping back to the ground.
“He slammed a toy truck into another boy’s face.”
“Theo?” Shock had my feet halting in a way that almost caused me to trip. Theo didn’t have a violent bone in his body. Whenever we were playing, if he accidentally hit me, he nearly cried.
“Yes. And we have a no-violence policy. One and done. I’m sure that was explained to you when Sheila signed you up. You may be okay with violence with your lifestyle, but we are—”
“By my lifestyle, do you mean my occupation as a Navy SEAL?” Anger rippled through my words.
“Your response is clearly the reason your son reacts in the same way.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until the taste of iron coated my tongue. “I’m fifteen minutes out.”
As soon as I was on my way, I called Sweeney, postponed the work at Will’s apartment, and tried my damn best to modulate my emotions so I’d be calm when I got to the school.
Walking into the office, seeing Theo sobbing in Dog’s fur, unraveled any calm I’d found.
I glared at the woman in charge, picked Theo up, and rubbed his little back. “I’m here, Theo. I’m here.”
“I’s sorry. I’s sorry. I’s sorry,” Theo cried.
I hugged him tight until his tears calmed. Then, I pulled back enough to see his face. “What happened, bud?”
“He said I had to share Dog. He said all the toys had to be shared,” Theo cried as he showed me his stuffed animal. “Now Dog is hurt.” The seam on one of the arms was torn, stuffing coming out. My chest felt like a thousand-pound weight had been placed on it. Fury rolled through me.
“We can fix it. I promise. Dog will be okay.” I set him down in the tiny chair he’d been in when I’d entered the office. “Give me two minutes, Theo, and then we’ll go home and get him all fixed up. ”
Theo nodded, his red, splotchy face making me want to punch something.
I crossed to the lady at the desk, and maybe the dark look on my face or the way I leaned toward her set off her alarms, because she pushed away and took a step back.
I dropped my voice so Theo couldn’t hear, but it made my tone all the more deadly.
“I told the lady who enrolled Theo that he’d lost both his parents in less than a month.
That toy is the only thing holding him together some days.
No wonder he reacted when some damn kid tried to take it away from him. ”
Her eyes widened. “I’m… Sheila didn’t say…”
“I guess it’s good we’re leaving and not coming back, seeing as your staff fails to share the critical needs of their students with each other. Did you even bother to ask him what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see his toy was ripped?”
“You may not understand this, Mr. Steele, but violence is never the answer. And certainly not one kid slamming a toy into another child’s face.”
“That’s the second time you’ve disparaged my career—the people who keep you and this country safe. I’d like my money back.”
She swallowed. “We don’t give refunds when kids are expelled.”
I snorted. “False advertising. Inability to keep a traumatized child safe. I’m sure I can find some other things to lob at you. Give me my money back, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
“Our policies are clear.” I took a step forward, and she swallowed hard. “Do I need to call security, Mr. Steele?”
My nails bit into my palms as I tried to rein in my anger, tried to tuck it behind the shield I was supposed to be excellent at keeping. I didn’t really give a damn about the money. It was the principle of it. They hadn’t kept Theo safe.
I hadn’t kept Theo safe.
I whirled around, picked Theo up along with the little dog backpack I’d bought him, and strode out of the building.
So much for knowing what the hell I was doing. Any pride I’d felt at our routine, at the structure and home I was trying to give Theo, flew out the window. I’d left him at the first damn place I’d researched. I’d left him, and he’d been traumatized even more.
I’d failed.
I could rationalize it by saying I was still learning, but that was bullshit. This was a kid’s life I had in my hands, not some stupid-ass gun I had to learn to take apart in my sleep.
But goddamnit, I hadn’t signed up for this. Hadn’t signed up to be a dad.
Guilt swarmed in over the frustration and regret.
I had to get those kinds of thoughts out of my head, or I’d never be able to give him what he really deserved—the simple knowledge he was loved and wanted.
An image of Fallon flashed before me, picking at her nails as she shrugged off something I’d said about her dad. None of them wanted me, Parker, and now I’m just a duty they can’t shake.
It had torn my insides to shreds. She’d truly believed she wasn’t wanted or cherished.
She’d admitted to being loved when I’d pushed and had eventually admitted she’d been wrong about some of it.
But I knew those old wounds still ached, knew she still looked at the way her siblings were loved and saw all the ways she hadn’t been.
I didn’t want Theo to ever believe he was only an obligation.
After buckling himself into the car seat that barely fit into the back seat of my pickup, Theo looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.
“Are you m-mad at me? Mommy used to get mad…” He rubbed his cheek, and his little shoulders shuddered before he buried his face in his stuffed animal again. My stomach fell to my knees. What had Althea done when she’d been angry? Had she hurt him?
Damn it. Damn all of it.
“I’m not mad at you, bud. No way, no how. You protected what was yours. That’s never going to be an issue with me.”
As I shut the door, the weight on my shoulders nearly shoved me to the ground.
Theo needed a dad who knew what the hell he was doing. Who could navigate these troubled waters with ease. Will would have known what to do. Would have been able to make his son laugh and smile and make sure he felt safe.
The trip back home was quiet. As soon as we got there, I took out my tiny sewing kit and stitched up the stuffed animal as best I could, wrapping a bandage around his leg and saying he’d be good as new in a few days.
Then, I picked up the threads of the routine I’d established for us.
We ate lunch, rode our bikes, worked out in my garage, and then had dinner before I tucked him into bed and read him books until he drifted off to sleep.