Chapter 32
Pete (aka Pops)
Things were warming up by the time I made it back outside. It still amazed me how fast it could go from cool to thick, wet heat in this city. We’d never lived this far south before the offer from Bellport. I’d always assumed people complaining about humidity were exaggerating.
Now I understood why they laughed in my face when I said such thoughts.
I stuck my hands in my pockets and headed down the sidewalk toward the busier parts of town. My choice to walk to Grizzly’s place this morning was partly because Paxton had the car and partly because it had been nice outside.
With the increase in heat, I regretted my decision a bit. Even so, I wouldn’t take back what had just happened. Grizzly needed more people in his corner. And I was happy to be one of them.
Grizzly's block was still quiet at this hour. The live oaks threw shade in uneven patches across the sidewalk and a couple of the homes had cute fences with flower boxes hanging on them. All of it was very small-town America and perfect for the sweet man living here.
My son’s obsession with his agent made me immensely happy. The pair was perfectly suited for one another. I’d never seen Paxton as happy as he’s been since committing to Grizzly. I also enjoyed the idea of getting to be the family Grizzly doesn’t have. I had more than enough love to go around.
Truthfully, I'd liked him immediately, which wasn't something I said about everyone. I was a reasonable judge of character. Life had required it, especially the years of raising Paxton alone. Even with this, there were some people I was kind to without being friendly and welcoming.
Grizzly passed every internal standard I kept for the ideal person to keep close. The fact that he was in love with my son gave him a few extra points too.
What surprised me most about Grizzly was how much he reminded me of my sweet Miriam.
My late wife had a similar personality to the man holding my son’s heart.
They were both sweet and gentle yet could be strong-willed just as often.
I had no doubt the gentle giant would love my son until his last breath.
As for Miriam, I didn't think about her every day anymore. In the early years, she was everywhere—in Paxton's laugh, in a song on the radio, in the way the city felt around me. My grief wound around everything I did.
Until one day it was better. My heart didn’t hurt as much at the thought of her. And my memories brought a nostalgic smile instead of tears.
My love would have had opinions about Bellport. She would have walked these streets the same way I was walking them now, head up, taking everything in with a calm gaze. People would have flocked to her, both from her beauty and her contagious energy.
And she’d have thrived. She’d have loved on the people here with everything she had. She’d have cheered the loudest for Paxton when he stepped on the field. She’d have tucked Grizzly against her chest and promised him the world if he’d let her mother him.
Miriam had always been drawn to people who were more than they appeared. Who carried depth you couldn’t always see on the outside.
I was thinking about this when I turned the corner onto Main Street and the smell hit me.
Hazel's.
I came to an immediate halt.
The biscuits. Lord above, the biscuits. I hadn't planned to stop. I'd eaten the pastry at Grizzly's, and I wasn't a man who ate twice before noon. But the smell coming from the open door wasn't going to give me a choice.
Butter. Warmth. Happiness.
Miriam couldn’t have Hazel’s herself, but I could eat some for her. With that reasoning, I strode straight to the restaurant for a basket of fluffy goodness.
The line inside was short. I took my place and looked up at the chalkboard menu, which I could have recited from memory at this point. If I wasn’t looking at it, then I’d have started up a conversation with someone when I really didn’t feel up to it just yet.
Talking to Grizzly had been good, but it didn’t mean I wanted to rush into another heavy chat.
I got a half dozen biscuits to go, telling myself they were for the house. This wasn't entirely a lie because I did intend to bring them to the house. Whether all of them survived the walk home was a separate question I pushed aside.
When I stepped back out onto the sidewalk with the paper bag warm in my hands, I almost walked directly into Bram, one of my new Bellport friends.
"Pete." He caught my arm briefly, the automatic steadying gesture showing off his good reflexes. He was a broad man, somewhere in his late forties, whom I’d met on a random day while exploring town. I’d noticed him because he always looked slightly overdressed for whatever he was doing.
Today it was a linen shirt, dark pressed trousers, and shoes that looked a touch pretentious. "Nearly took you out."
"I'd have survived," I joked. "Probably."
Bram's mouth curled into a smile. He had a face that didn't give much away, which I'd initially read as coldness and later understood was to preserve his energy. "Where are you coming from at this hour?"
"Friend's place." I held up the bag. "Made a pit stop."
"The biscuits." He gestured with his own cup toward the small bench set back from the foot traffic. "You have somewhere to be?"
I thought about it. I didn't, technically. Paxton was at practice. The afternoon was wide open. I had plans to do something productive with it, though those plans were flexible enough to accommodate time with Bram, who was decent company.
"You look like you've been solving something," Bram said after we sat down.
I tilted my head. "Do I?"
"You've got an expression. It tells me you've been in someone else's business, and you’re trying to decide if you helped or made it worse."
I laughed at that. "I'd forgotten you were a mind reader."
"Occupational requirement." He turned his coffee cup.
He didn't elaborate on the occupation, which I understood was his way of not sharing more.
Over the months since I'd arrived in Bellport, I'd gathered that Bram ran several things—businesses, properties, other arrangements that weren't fully explained—and that he didn’t feel the need to boast about it like other men in his position might.
"My son's fella," I said after a moment. "He was having a hard morning. I went to check on him."
Bram nodded once. He'd heard about Paxton the few times we’ve run into one another. I had the impression that Bram knew more about most things in this city than he let on. Which meant he’d know I was talking about Grizzly.
"He's a worrier," I added. "A good man. Perfect for my son. But he doesn’t have a ton of other people to help talk him down. It was my turn to tag in."
Bram was quiet for a moment. "That type tends to be loyal once they figure out the worrying doesn't have to be done alone."
I looked at him.
He was watching the street with the same composed attention he always seemed to have. But there was a personal weight to his words. A specificity that didn't come from an impartial party.
I didn't ask about it. It wasn't my business.
"Yeah," I said instead. "I’ll be there for him until he figures it out.”
I'd lived in several places over the course of my life. I knew that cities had personalities the same way people did, shaped by history and circumstance. Bellport felt different from anything I’d ever known. It felt like a place made of fairytale dreams, not reality.
I saw it in the way people moved around each other on the street, all friendly as if they were all friends.
I saw it in the mix of long-time establishments and newer ventures.
In the way they could coexist without the quiet desperation I'd noticed in other places where everyone was fighting for the same narrow piece of attention.
As a practical man, I didn't believe in magic. What I believed in was evidence. And the evidence in Bellport proved time and time again this was where a person could build a good, long life if they so wanted.
It was what I'd wanted for Paxton. Not the fame or the money. I'd wanted my son to find a home.
"Can I ask you something?"
Bram glanced at me. “Sure.”
"You've been here a while."
"Most of my life, yes," he confirmed.
"Was it always like this? Or is this newer? Life is rarely ever this picturesque."
He considered the question for a few minutes. I waited with him, since I knew the answer would be worth it.
"It changed," Bram said finally. "Slowly, in the way most things do. You look up one day to find life has shifted in subtle ways. It’s usually others who illuminate your understanding.”
I let the words percolate as I opened the paper bag in my lap, pulled out one of the biscuits, and took a big bite. With a bit of reluctance, I held the open bag over to Bram, who smirked and took one. The asshole.
While we sat together eating quietly, I thought about Grizzly’s face when the message from Auden appeared. His expression had been one of shock before turning to joy. In that moment of shock, I’d seen the disbelief beneath the surface. Not in Paxton, but in himself.
My words were hopefully enough to get him to see the power behind his talent. I wanted him to succeed as much as I wanted Paxton to. Which was good considering I figured I’d one day call Grizzly my son too.
Knowing my kid, it wouldn’t be long.
This was who my son had chosen. A man who had the capacity to be both supported and capable, who would show up for Paxton the same way Paxton showed up for everyone he cared for.
Miriam had always said Paxton would know when he found the right one because he would feel it the way he felt a pitch. He’d have a certainty in his bones.
I didn't know if Paxton had ever used those words. Probably not. He expressed things differently a lot of the time. But I'd seen it in him the first time he brought Grizzly up. His voice had changed. He spoke with surety.
Bram stood from the bench in one easy motion. "Walk you back?"
I looked up. "I'm a grown man. Besides, I’m headed home."
"I know that. I'm going the same direction." He raised an eyebrow a fraction. "Unless you'd like to sit here forever."
It was a knee-jerk reflex to roll my eyes at him. “Fine! I guess you can walk me home.”
“You’re something of a brat, Pete. Don’t make me find you a Daddy to paddle your ass.”
While not fully in the kink scene, I knew enough to know the threat Bram made was real. He’d told me when we first met about his boy so I wouldn’t be shocked. I’d consented to our discussions, so it should have been no surprise for the threat to arise given I was actually being bratty.
The troubling part wasn’t his words. It was how they made me feel.
"You settling in well?" Bram asked, distracting me from the confusing arousal his threat had brought forth.
"It’s been an easy transition. I thought it would take longer, but it’s been very natural.”
“Good. I think this place is better with the Wells men in it. You might have followed your son here at first, but you’re just as much a part of the place now."
It was accurate enough to give me pause. I'd followed Paxton here, sure. Not out of obligation or inability to do otherwise but because Paxton was mine and wherever he was felt more like home than wherever he wasn't. That had been the case since the first time I held him.
But Bram was right too. Parts of this place belonged to me alone, separate from my son's story. The city had gotten under my skin in its own unique way.
I hadn't finished figuring it all out yet. Maybe I never would.
"Fair assessment," I eventually said.
Bram paused as we reached the split in the road where he’d need to diverge. My house was in one direction, and wherever he was headed was the other way.
"For what it's worth," he started, "what you're watching happen for your son doesn't happen because he got lucky. It happens because of the kind of person he is. And because of the kind of people who raised him."
"You're going to make me sentimental in the middle of a public street," I grumbled.
"You were already feeling sentimental," Bram replied, unbothered by my pout. He turned and walked away, leaving me on the sidewalk to watch him stroll casually like he hadn’t fucked up my day.
The man was making me feel and think. How rude of him!
I turned toward home a few seconds later.
My thoughts drifted to all the important people in my life: Paxton, who was at practice running drills in this ridiculous heat; Grizzly at his place on the phone scoring Paxton the deal of a lifetime; and my amazing wife, who was probably laughing up a storm at my morning so far.
They're going to be fine, I told her, the way I sometimes still did, in the privacy of my own mind.
I could almost hear her answer.
I know. They were always going to be. And you will be too.