Chapter 31
Griffin
One week later . . .
“My dad knows how to do everything.” Beckett’s voice carries up the ladder where I’m holding a nail to a board.
I look down. “Your dad learned by just doing what needed to get done. Hands-on experience is the best teacher.” He only has a hand holding onto the ladder, and if we’re being honest, he’s using it to rest against more than to secure my safety against falling.
It’s a good confidence builder to think you are trusted to save a life.
My dad used to do the same for me when I was young.
I’m not sure Beck needs a confidence boost, but since he’s here, I’m putting him to work.
I hammer the new board into place, adding nail gun to my list of things to purchase, and start down the ladder.
Landing on my feet, I ask, “Did your friend Macon get picked up?”
“Yeah, his mom got him.”
“That was nice of you guys to offer to help.” And by help, they went out in the boat, hiked a good fifteen acres up the river, explored a cave they claim had something with glowing eyes living in it, and panned for gold in a ground full of granite.
I remember those days from when I was younger.
Baylor and I used to have so much fun on random adventures and getting into trouble.
He shrugs. “We got nothing better to do.”
I drop my hammer into the tool belt hanging around my hips as we walk out from the house, stop, and look back at the progress made today.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare at the two new siding boards I put in place.
You’d think I built the home from scratch by the pride I feel inside. “What do you think?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Beck mimics me as he studies the house. “I think you have a long way to go, Uncle Griffin.”
Ruffling his hair, I reply, “I agree.” We head back to the porch to take a water break. After digging out two bottles from the cooler, I sit on the landing of the porch, settling my feet three steps below.
He comes to sit but scoots to lean against a post.
“Got your eye on any girls at school?”
Beckett laughs, but I see his cheeks redden a little too. “Nah. I’m too young for dating. That’s what my dad says.”
“Your dad is right. Just have fun with your friends and leave those troubles for after high school.”
“Is that what you did?” He rolls the bottle over his forehead. He’s a funny kid, out here looking like he’s been sweating out at a construction site.
“I made mistakes and dated girls I probably should have steered clear of like my mom warned me. Trust your parents. They have good instincts.” I rest my palms on the floorboards, scanning the property all the way to the river’s edge.
Weeks ago, I had no direction. Now, I’m rebuilding a house for a life I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to have.
Some would call Jacob an accident or a mistake.
I call him the anchor I need to ride out the rough seas of my life.
The sails that have given me direction on sunny days.
Cricket, that’s easy. She’s the captain steering this ship.
I glance over at the daybed, grinning just thinking how sexy she’d look in a captain’s cap and nothing else.
The role of a ship’s engineer is the one I gravitate most toward. None of us works without the other to get to our destination. We’re a team now.
“Hey, Beck, see the Cypress at the water’s edge? The biggest trees other than the oaks?”
“Yeah.”
“When I was traveling, it didn’t matter where I was, I could close my eyes, and I’d be flying off a rope swing into the river or climbing up the trunks and perching up on the branches for hours.
” I glance at him. “I once fell asleep cradled in the legs of the roots. My parents couldn’t find me.
Scared the living daylights out of them. ”
“What happened?”
“The police were at the house when I showed up. I totally missed all the commotion. Those trees are home to me.”
“Was that a lesson I’m supposed to learn?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Nope. Just sharing a bit of my childhood with you, buddy.”
The relief of “not learning” creates a smile on his face. “Baylor always tries to wrap these big life lessons into his stories.”
“Ah.” I rest my arms on my legs when I lean forward. “I get it.” I didn’t take my brother as the purveyor of deep truths, but like the rest of us, he’s changed, and good for him for helping our nephew. “Do you like baseball?”
“I’m going back to soccer. Everyone here is too intense about the sports they played. I just want to play for fun.”
I start to chuckle again. “Yeah, we take our sports seriously around here.” I don’t know why I’m about to ask, except that I’ll get an unbiased opinion, because if this kid is one thing, it’s honest to a fault.
“Jacob’s a cute kid, huh? I was thinking about asking his mom if we could host his birthday party at the ranch.
” His silence draws my attention to him. “What’s up?”
He looks at me, but then his gaze goes to his shoes. “I overheard Grandpa saying that’s a Greene if he ever saw one.” Guess letting it drop did us no favors. It only allowed their imaginations to fill in the blanks. “Is Jacob a Greene?”
Beckett is a Grange after his dad, my sister being his stepmom, but he’s a Greene in the ways that run deeper than blood. Like the rest of them, though, he’s not dumb. How do I answer this without starting a field day of family nonsense I’m not ready to address? “He’s . . .”
“Is he your son?”
“Yes.” My response isn’t rushed, but I don’t want to beat around the bush. “Jacob’s my son.”
“Why doesn’t everyone know? Why didn’t you tell them?”
The details of the story aren’t meant for a kid his age.
It’s not something I need to put into his head or have him asking more questions than are necessary.
“I need a little time to work through a few things before telling the family. Can you keep this conversation between us?” I hold out my hand for a fist bump.
He bumps right back. “Yep.” After sipping on his water, he says, “It’s Daisy. She was the giveaway. They do look like twins.” He takes another chug and then caps the bottle again. “She’ll like having him around.”
“Instead of following you everywhere?”
“We have fun sometimes, but I want to do dude stuff, too.”
“Dude stuff” makes me want to grin, but I don’t because I want to be a trusted sounding board for him. We all need that, and sometimes he won’t want to talk to his dad. “Is that why you wanted to get dropped off here after school?”
“Yeah.”
I tap the toe of my boots against his sneaker. “You can come over anytime.” Standing, I take another long drink of water. I look at the pile of wood I bought a few days ago, which hasn’t gotten smaller despite my progress. “Want to help me replace a few more boards, or are you ready to go home?”
“Home. It’s too hot out here.”
Yep, honest to a fault. “Wait until summer.” We start down the steps to the truck. “I’ll take you home, kid.”
Trailing me, he says, “You didn’t ask, but I figure I’d tell you since I got a good sense of the situation.”
I lean against the driver’s side of the front of my truck to look back at him. “What situation is that?”
“Christine says I have a knack for seeing situations for what they are instead of the front people put on. I called it with her and my dad before they knew they were meant to be together. Lauralee and Baylor were too easy to predict. They were the worst at hiding their feelings. Basically, they couldn’t. ”
My jaw has dropped. “You have a sixth sense for predicting relationships?”
Raising his hands, he says, “I don’t question my gifts. But I will tell ya . . .” He stops to put his weight against the truck as he looks at me just over the top. It’s a big truck.
I legit have no clue where this is going. “You casting a prediction for me? I’ll take all the help I can get.” I laugh, waiting, the suspense killing me.
“I know why you got upset when I killed that bug.”
I don’t know what his ambitions are in life, but he’s going far in whatever he decides to do, which apparently isn’t sports. Two thumbs down on the no pro ball in his future, though. “Why’d I get upset?”
“Because she’s your secret ingredient.”
“Who is?” I know who, but I still play dumb because it’s weird to have an eleven-year-old calling out your personal life like that.
“Cricket. Grandma Grange said that when you find it, you’ll know it. She’s the love that’s been missing from your dish.”
“And my dish is my life?”
Waving his hand carelessly as he moves to the truck’s door, he replies, “Something like that. It’s a dash of this and a pinch of that, but I’m not sure how it all works. Cricket’s the ingredient you’ve been missing.” He opens the truck and climbs inside.
I might need a few minutes to process what this kid just laid out for me.
The success of his prediction continues.
Welp, good to know the universe is behind us.
After I drive Beckett home, I get back in the truck, still thinking about what he said.
My sister is right about his abilities. It aligns the thoughts I was already having but hadn’t revealed to anyone.
Before I head back to the house, I text my girl: Want to bring Jacob over for dinner at the house tonight?
It’s early, just after four, so she’s probably still working. A message pops up along with my smile: We’d love to.