CHAPTER 73
maverick
Three… two… one… happy birthday.” The last words came out as a whisper, per the request of the birthday boy. Even still, Carson’s ears turned a violent shade of red as he stared hard at the table. I affectionately ruffled his hair.
At his first birthday party, he screamed hysterically when we sang to him.
We just assumed it was because he was overwhelmed by the number of people.
Same thing for his second birthday. On his third birthday, he yelled at us not to sing to him.
The rest was history. We gave him one enthusiastic whisper of a birthday wish, and that was it.
He didn’t need and didn’t want more than that.
I shifted in the booth, doing my best to avoid kicking Roxy in the process.
She and Carson sat across from me. In the years since Carson was born, Roxy had come into her own.
She was a terrifying and snarky force to be reckoned with.
The woman could put men twice her age and twice her size in their place with more efficiency than anyone I’d ever met.
Her pin-up-inspired look with big hair, bandanas, and tattoos only made it funnier.
She’d also become my best friend with ease.
It turned out we had a lot more in common than I’d expected.
It didn’t hurt that we worked together or that I was her go-to childcare help when she needed it.
“Are you coming tonight?” she asked.
“Have I ever missed a birthday party?” I demanded, feigning being offended.
In six years, I’d been to every birthday party, and I did mean every.
I went to all of Carson’s parties, but I also went to every other family birthday party that Millie and James threw—that included my own.
They celebrated my birthday like I was part of the family.
And I was. I’d happily accepted my place in their family. Birthdays, Christmases, Fourth of July celebrations… all of them were events I looked forward to now.
“Hmm, you never know when you might start,” she teased.
“He’s never late like we are,” Carson chimed in, making me laugh.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” I said. “I’m even closing everything early today.”
“No, I’m closing everything early today,” Roxy corrected with a cheeky grin. “You won’t be in the office.”
“Well, you work for me, so it’s the same fucking thing.”
The swearing earned me a glare.
“Remember, we admire your uncle for many things, except for his mouth,” Roxy told Carson.
His stormy blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he held back a giggle.
I winked just to break him, and she let out an exasperated sigh as her son laughed loud enough to make heads turn. “You’re a bad influence.”
“I’m a great influence.”
“And when I get called into the school because he’s swearing—”
“No one’s calling you because he’s swearing,” I interjected over her. “I’ve seen the little shits in his class. That Liam kid is more trouble than he’ll ever be.”
“I don’t say bad words in school,” Carson added.
“See? I’m not a bad influence,” I stared pointedly at Roxy, challenging her and knowing she’d let it go.
Carson was the quiet kid. He wasn’t a social butterfly.
Every teacher he had said the same thing to Roxy: maybe he should be tested because he didn’t socialize like the other kids.
It always came down to some bullshit about how he wasn’t normal.
But the truth was that he was wicked smart and exceptionally creative. He preferred art and alone time to roughhousing and sports. At least the former didn’t come with any hospital bills.
“Before I run to my next appointment,” I began as I pulled out the wrapped-up box I had on the seat next to me. “I figured I could give you this.”
“But my birthday party’s tonight,” Carson said, but he grabbed the box and worked on tearing it open before I could respond.
“I know, but we’re doing birthday breakfast,” I replied. “And every birthday breakfast needs a present. Besides, your mom agreed when I said I’d like you to have it for the day.”
I was fairly certain that last sentiment was lost when he saw the iPad box. His jaw damn near hit the floor as he stared at it.
“You keep doing that, and your Mamaw says you’re going to catch flies,” Roxy said and gently tapped his chin. “What do you say to your Uncle Mav for such a nice gift… a much nicer one than we discussed.”
I winced. I knew that was coming. Selling her on the idea of me buying him a present that expensive had been hard. My buying something more expensive wasn’t going to win me any points.
“I got a deal on it,” I admitted.
“Is it real?” Carson exclaimed. “Like real real?”
“Yeah, kid, and it’s yours,” I said. Leaning over, I took the lid off the box.
“I already put a case on it—one that’s supposed to be indestructible.
Not sure that’s a thing, but whatever. And there’s a drawing app on there for you.
I loaded it with a bunch of pre-made brushes or something.
I don’t know. A digital illustrator I found online helped me put it together.
And for mom, the airplane mode is on. Don’t turn it off without her permission. Got it?”
“It’s really mine?” he repeated softly. The awe in his voice made my heart melt.
“Yeah, it’s yours,” I assured him. “Just do me a favor—”
“Anything! I’ll do anything!”
“—just keep the airplane mode on to keep your mom sane.” And me. I could live a few more years without him finding his way into the dark corners of the internet.
“Okay!”
“What do you say to your uncle?” Roxy prompted once more.
“Right!” he exclaimed. Before either of us could do anything to stop him, Carson slipped right under the table.
“Carson!” Roxy hissed. “We don’t—ow!”
“That was me,” I said, chuckling. It was. But I only kicked her because I was trying not to knee my nephew in the face.
“Jerkface,” she muttered.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Carson chanted as he crawled up on my side of the booth. He hugged me tight around the neck. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” I replied and hugged him back.
“Thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to make so many cool things.”
“I know you will.” He would. His talent for drawing far exceeded his age. Watching him create was one of my favorite things in the world.
“And I’ll have Mommy print them and put them in your office,” he told me.
“Damn straight you will.” I had an entire wall in my office dedicated to Carson’s art.
Though at the rate this kid made me art, I was going to need to put an addition on the building just to have somewhere to put everything.
We weren’t going to talk about all the art in my house, either.
And it wasn’t just me. Roxy’s house was covered in it, and so was everyone else’s.
The kid supplied the whole family with art, and we just never threw anything away.
Roxy mumbled under her breath as Carson insisted on crawling back under to get to the other side of the table. I wished I could be more helpful, but I found it funny. There was a reason I was an uncle and not a parent.
While Carson fiddled with his birthday gift, I poured another cup of coffee for Roxy and me. The waitress knew well enough to leave a whole pot at our table. It was easier than running back and forth every time we wanted a refill.
“I told you that Mr. Weller won’t be home when you go over there today?
” she began, and I sighed. Four years ago, Frank had a stroke.
While he recovered, I kept his businesses running.
It was exhausting and stressful but more rewarding than anything else.
On his first day back, he tried to give me both companies on the promise that I wouldn’t gouge his customers’ prices.
I kept him on as a silent, non-decision-making partner because at least that way, he made a small income every month and wasn’t forced to stretch his savings too thin.
Besides, he was good at answering any questions I had in the beginning. My first tax filing had been hell.
I quickly learned that Frank’s business didn’t work for me, simply because I wasn’t Frank.
And so, with Millie’s help, I rebranded.
I put WB Auto Care and WB Home Repair under one business: Torque & Timber.
Roxy helped me with a new logo, along with new business cards and all that shit.
The whole process was infuriating, but in the end, it was worth it.
And somehow, during it all, Roxy deemed herself the secretary I needed and didn’t have.
She kept my office running and kept my crew happy but organized.
“Are you trying to make me work right now?” I asked as I lifted the cup of coffee to my lips. “I don’t do work when I’m off the clock, and I don’t start for another half hour.”
Fuck, I had to get out of there, so I wasn’t late.
“No, I’m trying to make sure you remember that Mr. Weller has a dog, who doesn’t like people,” Roxy said.
“I hate Taco,” I grumbled. Taco was Mr. Weller’s pomeranian with an attitude problem.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d put Taco in another room, but according to Mr. Weller, that was just unfair to Taco.
“Do you think I could write it off as a business expense if I bought a K9 bite suit? Just waddle in there looking like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”
Her laughter filled the diner, loud and happy, while I waved down our waitress for another pot of coffee. I was going to need it if I was going to deal with the devil dog named Taco.