Tessa
Chapter thirty
By the time Kate makes it to the diner, I'm feeling drained and on edge. The guilt of having another person watch my son because I have to work still sinks in and digs its hooks into me nearly every time. I know I’m not the only mom who feels this way, but that doesn’t make the guilt any less.
I should be able to be there for him for every moment, and if life hadn’t gone the way it did, I wouldn’t be stuck working at the diner.
Lori and Hank have become a second family to me, but working at the diner wasn’t supposed to be a lifelong career.
My dreams and ambitions have changed over the years, now mostly centered around what would be best for my son.
Yet the older he gets, the more expensive everything becomes.
I don’t know how much longer working at the diner will suffice, which is why I had to take the offer to work a couple of extra hours.
Between the hourly wage and tips, I should be able to start working on Jake’s Christmas wish list, even if it’s just a few of the smaller items.
My feet feel heavy as I trudge up the porch steps, pausing at the front door to listen.
Soft, warm light peeks out through the curtains covering the large front window.
The sound of Jake’s current favorite movie filters through, and a smile crawls across my face as I unlock the door and step inside.
The couch cushions, kitchen chairs, and what appears to be every blanket they could find have all been used to build a fort in the living room in front of the television.
The remnants of a Nerf battle litter the floor, and I have to stifle a laugh as I move around their fort.
Logan’s long legs are stretched out of the fort’s entrance.
His eyes meet mine as I bend down to peek inside.
“Momma,” Jake exclaims, crawling out from their creation and climbing to his feet.
He runs to me, wrapping his arms around my waist in a hug.
I crouch down farther, returning the hug as I press a kiss to the top of his head.
“We made a fort. Isn’t it so cool?” The excitement in his voice is contagious, and it has me laughing as he grabs my hand and drags me toward it.
“Hey, darlin.” Logan’s deep voice sends a spark of warmth through my chest.
“Come in, momma!” Jake tugs on my hand as he drops to his knees and crawls back in beneath the stacked cushions and blankets.
Logan sits up as best he can and holds his hand out to me.
With his help, I move to my knees and crawl inside, putting Jake in the middle.
He’s lying on his back, his arms folded beneath his head, with his eyes locked on the TV.
It’s no surprise that he’s chosen the animated movie about the racing plane that becomes a firefighter.
He’s been obsessed with all things firefighting since Logan came into our lives.
I’ve lost track of how many times he’s asked to watch this particular movie.
“You boys sure got up to some trouble, didn’t you?” I tease, shifting to lie on my side, facing them. I didn’t have any real expectations for what I would find when I came home, but finding them in a cushion fort in the living room has my heart squeezing in my chest.
For years, I thought I would never find someone who could love my son and me exactly as we are.
I’ve heard and read too many horror stories about single parents building new relationships and the other person not being able to handle it all.
It takes a special kind of strength to love and care for a child that’s not your own, but Logan makes it seem easy.
He has done nothing but show my son love since day one.
Coming home to find them practically curled up together only solidifies how much it means to me that he was not only willing to spend one-on-one time with Jake, but that they seemed to have fun together.
I can only hope he knows there will be times when life with a child isn’t all fun and games. So far, he’s only seen my son as this playful and easygoing kid, and for the most part, that’s how Jake is. But he’s still only five and no stranger to temper tantrums.
Jake’s voice is loud and pitched slightly higher than usual as he says, “No, we didn’t get in any trouble.” He sounds almost offended that I would suggest such a thing.
Logan chuckles. “I know we made a mess. Why don’t you go take a shower and put on something more comfortable, and we’ll get this all cleaned up?”
Jake whines, clearly upset over the idea of cleaning up their masterpiece. “Can we leave the fort?” he asks.
Logan’s eyes flick to mine, waiting for me to take the lead.
I appreciate him not wanting to overstep in any way, but I also want him to know that if he’s truly in this with me, we’re a team.
I have no interest in the kind of parenting where one says something and the other gives a conflicting answer.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, dragging out the last word. “What do you think, Lo?”
His dark green eyes gleam as they meet mine, lips pressed together as they curve slightly upward. “Let’s get all your darts picked up, then we’ll see about the fort, ok?”
Jake agrees, and they both crawl out of the fort, while I head for the primary en-suite. A long, hot shower sounds like exactly what I need right now.
There’s something about a shower so hot it feels like Lucifer himself heated the water that can rejuvenate your soul.
Having another adult in the house means I didn’t feel bad about taking the extra time to exfoliate and shave everything that needed shaving.
I decide to wear my new forest-green pajama set.
The top is a spaghetti-strap tank top, and the bottoms are a pair of loose-fitting shorts.
The set is modest enough to wear around the house while still being cute and comfortable during the warmer months.
The smell of pizza draws me out of the bedroom, and I wander into the kitchen to find my two favorite people sitting at the table.
A large cardboard box of pizza sits on the table between them, with plates and napkins set out for each of us.
The Parmesan cheese, or “sprinkle cheese” as Jake calls it, sits beside the box.
Logan leans back in his chair, watching me as I walk into the room. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered pizza. Time kind of got away from us, and I figured you’d be hungry when you got home. It just arrived while you were in the shower.”
I step up behind him, placing my hand on his shoulder as I lean down to press a kiss to his cheek. “This is perfect, thank you.”
He smiles as a soft red tint coats his cheeks.
Jake makes a sound of disgust at our show of affection, and we both laugh at his antics.
He’s quickly distracted as Logan opens the box of pizza and pulls out a slice, placing it on Jake’s plate.
The slice is almost immediately covered in a pile of Parmesan cheese, most of which falls off with each bite he takes.
He fills me in on their battle and Logan’s fort-building skills, and when he says Logan should come over to hang out more often, I know my son is just as crazy about him as I am.
“When can we hang out again?” Jake asks around a mouth full of pepperoni pizza.
My heart swells at his question, loving how much he enjoyed spending time with Logan. And by the look on Logan’s face, I’d say the feeling is mutual.
“Anytime you’d like, buddy. My schedule at the station is kind of all over the place. I don’t always have a weekend off, but I’d love to pick you up from school sometimes when your momma is working.”
His offer is so nonchalant, I don’t think he realizes how helpful it would be to have someone I can rely on to occasionally pick Jake up from school.
Lori has been as accommodating as possible with Jake’s school schedule, but there are days when I pick him up only to return to the diner for a couple more hours.
Sometimes, Liv or my parents take him, but more often than not, I need Jake to hang out in one of the booths while I work. It’s not ideal, but we’ve made it work.
Jake’s hands plant on the table as he leans forward, a wide grin stretched over his face. “Can you pick me up in the fire truck?”
Logan chuckles and runs a hand back through his light brown hair, brushing the longer strands off his forehead. “I can’t make any promises on that one, J-Man, but I’ll try.”
That seems to satisfy his question, and we fall into comfortable conversation after that.
Jake bounces between telling us about some kindergarten gossip at school, talking about the animals we saw when we went to the zoo, and asking Logan questions about the fire plane movie and whether it’s the same at the station.
Eventually, Jake’s eyes grow heavy as he braces his arm on the table, his chin resting in his palm as he fights to keep his eyes open.
“Let’s go, buddy, time for a shower,” I say, wiping my hands on a napkin and then standing from the table. As much as I hate for the night to end, he’ll be a nightmare in the morning if he doesn’t get enough sleep.
“Can he stay for a story?” he whines, dragging his feet all the way to the bedroom. I’ve been reading a book to him at bedtime every night since he was old enough to sit still long enough to look at the pictures. It’s a routine even my parents have kept when he spends the night at their house.
It takes reassuring him that Logan will stay for storytime to finally get him in the shower. Once he’s finished and ready for bed, the exhaustion from the day seems to have crept in, and he trudges to his bedroom as though his feet are made of stone.
Logan is perched on the edge of his bed, a book open in his hands as he flips through the pages. “You’re still here!” Jake exclaims, happiness evident in his voice as he climbs onto the bed.
Logan chuckles, standing from the bed so my son can get comfortable beneath the covers. “C’mon, J-man. You didn’t think I would leave before story time, did you?” he asks. “Hope it’s okay, but I took a peek at all of your books. This one sounds good.” He holds out the book for him to see.
“That one’s my favorite!” He says that about all of his books, but I love how much he enjoys reading.
“Wanna read it together?”
I lean a shoulder against the doorframe, watching as the two of them settle in to read the book.
I’m expecting him to read with a monotone voice, as so many people do, but he surprises me when he reads the first sentence in a high-pitched tone.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest as a smile spreads across my face.
I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the laugh.
Logan notices and glances my way, wearing a matching smile as he continues with the varying voices.
My son is wholly invested in the story, his eyes wide and flicking across the page as Logan brings the characters to life.
By the time the story is over, Jake’s eyes are heavy with sleep, and Logan slides carefully out of the bed as I cross the room to press a soft kiss to my son’s cheek.
I pull his bedroom door closed softly and turn to face Logan.
Words can’t express the emotion coursing through me from seeing how well he handled everything. But some things don’t need to be expressed with words.