Chapter 30
Cricket
Griffin laughs, but there’s nothing real in it. I roll my eyes while shaking my head, but then that makes me laugh for some reason.
Turning to me, he starts to laugh for real.
We’re two fools laughing like that, hoping it will throw them off the scent.
Other than staring at us like we’ve lost our dang minds, his brother-in-law finally throws us a lifeline.
“Hi, I’m Tagger Grange. This is my wife, Pri—Christine, Griffin’s sister.
” He comes closer for a quick handshake.
“I’m Cricket . . .” Do I tell them and go through the whole hullabaloo again?
“Dover,” Griffin states. “Cricket Dover, and this is her son, Jacob.” Turning around to find the boy, he adds, “You didn’t miss anything, Beckett. This is my friend Cricket and her son.”
“Whoa. I thought that was Daisy on your shoulders.”
“Silly, brother.” Daisy cracks up, then kicks him in the shin.
“Daisy!” her mom scolds while Beckett hops around on one leg like they might have to amputate. “You don’t do that. Now tell Beck you’re sorry.”
“But I’m not sorry.” She takes off running along the fence line. “Come on, Sunrise.” The horse gallops along with her, which is so entertaining to see. I’ve never seen a horse do that before.
Christine watches until they near a curve in the bend, then turns back. “I’m sorry, Beck. Are you okay?”
Annoyance produces a scowl on his face before he grumbles, “I’m fine.”
When he takes off running after her, his dad says, “Be nice, son.”
As if a little embarrassed, Christine closes her eyes and sighs. When she reopens them, she says, “She’s wild like the flower she was named after.”
I’m not sure if I should fear her wrath or applaud her spirit, but that Daisy is going to love having a cousin her own age to play with.
I’ll have to make sure Jacob is up to the task, though.
Other than going to play gym twice a week, he’s not used to the dynamics of other kids, much less ones who kick.
Tagger says, “Beckett’s my oldest. You’ve met Daisy, and this here is baby Julie Ann.”
“She’s precious. How old is she?”
“Four months and just the best baby,” Christine practically coos. “We named her after my mom. She’s so sweet and already sleeps through the night, which is a win.”
My gaze darts to Griffin who gives me a reassuring smile.
When I turn back, I say, “I remember that period well.” My gut twists when I realize what we’re saying in front of Griffin though.
He didn’t get the opportunity to be there for his child like we did.
His expression is one of indifference, but I’ve learned he holds a lot inside that he tries to hide from everyone.
“Well, I’m glad you guys get to sleep as well now. ”
She says, “If Baylor and Lauralee were here, you’d get to meet the whole family.”
“Oh.” I hold a finger up. “I met him.”
Griffin does a double take. “You met my brother?”
“Yes. Downtown. He was really nice. Talked to me about one of the available spaces.” They all groan in unison, causing my jaw to slip.
Christine laughs. “Sounds like Baylor. Did he get you to sign on the dotted line?”
“No,” I reply under a gentle roll of laughter.
Moving closer to me, Griffin sets Jacob, who’s still clinging to the empty basket, back on his feet. “He’s really good at closing deals.”
“No deals were closed today. At least, not with me.” When I see Griffin smirk, the gaffe I made glares like a beacon.
This man closed a few deals himself last night on that back porch daybed of his.
I wouldn’t be opposed to closing a few more after hours, except I can’t. No babysitter on duty tonight.
Griffin comes to stand next to me, his hand on Jacob’s shoulder like it’s natural. I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing, and I know Jacob doesn’t mind because he’s still standing with Griffin like he’s his new favorite hero. My son looks up at me, and says, “Potty, Mommy.”
I look at Griffin. “Do you mind if I take him inside to use the bathroom?”
“No. Go right ahead. We’ll be here.”
Taking Jacob’s hand, I lead him toward the house. Conversation picks up behind us, but from the words I catch, it’s casual and jovial. When we enter the house, I do a quick scan, knowing we’re running low on time before he has an accident. I gesture toward the hall. “Come with me.”
The bathroom is tucked under the stairs.
We slip inside, and I help unlatch his belt buckle.
He takes care of the rest. I’m used to stark white and marble bathrooms designed by my mother.
This bathroom is decorated in gold-hued towels with matching flowers on the shower curtain.
A dark brown rug is situated over laminate flooring.
Although the style has probably passed by a decade or more, the colors are warm, and it makes the small space feel cozy.
After a quick handwash, we return to the front of the house, but instead of going straight for the door, Jacob dashes upstairs.
The fastest kid. Wonder where he gets it?
It’s not from my Pilates-loving body. “No, Jacob. Come back. This isn’t our home.
” Completely ignored, I huff. I glance at the front door, then back up to the top of the stairs, where he’s already disappeared.
“Jacob?” I really don’t want to get busted like I’m snooping around the place, but this kid’s not listening to me.
I’ll be quick, retrieve him, and get out.
I dash up the stairs and stop on the landing to whisper-yell, “Jacob, come here right now.”
No response. “You’re going to get into trouble if you don’t come out here.
” The sound of a small crash has me dashing to the farthest bedroom from the stairs.
I push the door all the way open to find Jacob sitting on the floor with a baseball glove close to fitting on his hand.
I whisper, “We can’t be in here, buddy. It’s not our house. ”
“Glove.”
“Yes, it is.” I drop down to my knees to take it from him but then stop.
Seeing him look so proud as he holds the leather in his hands has me wishing he could have it.
Unfortunately, it’s not mine to give. I let him play with it a moment longer when I notice a baseball card sandwiched in acrylic knocked over at his feet.
I pick it up and run my finger over the front.
Griffin was much younger but still sports a familiar smirk as he’s caught in action, throwing a ball.
“It’s my rookie card.” Griffin’s voice carries from the doorway, but there’s no anger attached to it. “Might be worth some money one day or, like me, left with no value at all.”
I stand and go to him. With the card still in hand, I glance down at it and meet his gaze again. “You have more value than a card ever could.”
“Tell that to the collectors.”
Poking him in the chest, I reply, “I’m telling that to you.”
He slides his hands around my waist before quickly retreating when his eyes land on Jacob again.
Shifting around me, he sits on the floor, leaning against the bed, and pulls Jacob onto his lap.
With a little tug here and an adjustment to twist the glove so it’s on correctly, he says, “Fits like a glove.”
“Was that your glove?”
“When I was his age. It’s just memorabilia my mom saved that’s collecting dust. He can have it if he wants.”
I set the framed card on the desk under the window and sit on the edge of the bed, my leg bumping up against his bicep. “We can’t take that.”
“Why not? It’s going to sit here, and the leather will just crack even more if it doesn’t get conditioned and used like it’s meant to be.”
Jacob hasn’t made a peep, sitting contentedly on his lap and playing with the glove.
I rub Griffin’s shoulder, and say, “That’s very generous of you.
” But as much as he wants to shrug it off like it’s nothing, I know what he’s doing.
It’s not about being conditioned or used.
It’s about giving his son a piece of his legacy, a part of him.
Tears start to fill the corners of my eyes, so I tilt my head back in a fruitless attempt to force them to return to where they came from.
It doesn’t work. One slips down, and another slides down the opposite cheek.
I wipe them away with the inside collar of the shirt I’m wearing and then look around the room.
Trophies line two shelves hanging on the wall next to the window, ribbons with medals adorning the bottom dangle from hooks underneath.
A column of baseball bats lines the wall from ceiling to floor in one area of the small room.
And cowboy hats for all occasions appear to float on the light blue painted wall facing the bed.
The bed. I actually laugh from the size of it, which feels so good after having my heart squeezed from the loft of what I’ve witnessed between them. “You don’t even fit on this bed, and you’ve been sleeping here?”
“I’ve been sleeping here because it’s the only bed I have.” He looks up at me behind him, and says, “Anything bigger wouldn’t fit in this room, so I make do like I always have.”
“You can stay at mine.” The words came before I had a chance to think them through, my heart just throwing out an offer like it’s the one in control of my head.
Jacob gets up, leaving the glove for Griffin to have.
He rummages through a bookshelf and then climbs onto a box to investigate the top of the desk.
Griffin gets off the floor and comes to sit next to me.
With his hands in his lap and his shoulders slumped forward, he’s still taller than I am. “Is that a real offer?”
Logically, I shouldn’t have made it without thinking it through, but I can’t manage to regret saying it anyway. “It’s a real offer, Greene.”
With Jacob busying himself with coins he found in a jar, Griffin leans over and kisses my cheek. “I appreciate it, Dover. I’ll think about it.”
“Ouch.”
“No ouch,” he says, laughing. “I just don’t know if you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”