Page 21 of Stolen Dreams

He bops in his seat to the song playing in the restaurant. A hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah.” He sits a little straighter. Taller. “My moves were pretty dope.”

Dope.Yet another word to add to the list of slang Jordan is teaching Tucker. At least none of the words in his new vocabulary are curses, derogatory, or hurtful.

“Jordan’s a good teacher. Glad we met them.”

Tucker plucks a crayon from a cup on the table and starts doodling on his place mat. “Me too. Jordan said I’m like the best little brother.” The admission enlivens Tucker’s expression.

My heart squeezes at the sight.

I love that Tucker has a role model, someone considerate and supportive he can talk with who isn’t his therapist.

“That’s amazing, bud.”

The server deposits Tucker’s root beer float and my Pepsi on the table, says the pizza will be out soon, then disappears again.

Eyes on his glass as he pokes the scoop of ice cream, worry creases Tucker’s forehead. He takes a tentative sip of his float then sags in his seat. The sudden shift in his mood has my dad senses tingling. In an instant, a gray cloud swoops in and wipes away his happiness, and I don’t like it.

I nudge his foot under the table again. “What’s up, bud?”

He shifts his tight lips from side to side, unsure.

Ducking closer to the table, I peek up into his eyes and give him an encouraging smile. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” I gesture between us with a finger. “Remember, this is a safe space.”

His brows bunch together in what I assume is hesitancy. Slowly, they relax, but not fully. Eyes still downcast, he asks, “Have you told Mom about Jordan?” His voice is so soft, timid, I barely hear his question.

My heart squeezes again but for a completely different reason. An achy tightness because my little man may never see or hear from his mom again. Tucker may be too young and unintentionally oblivious to grasp the finer details of why she is no longer in the picture, but he isn’t too young to experience the everlasting side effects.

The one and only time Brianna reached out since abandoning Tucker at Dad’s diner was two days after Tucker’s birthday. She called the diner, asked Dad for my number, then called me from a blocked number and asked for money. She didn’t ask about Tucker. She didn’t ask me to tell him happy birthday from her.

Brianna spoke to me as if Tucker didn’t exist at all.

Thoroughly repulsed by her attitude and behavior, I told her to lose my number and hung up.

Any time Tucker brings up Brianna, I tread lightly. His invisible wounds are still too fresh. He struggles to convincehimself his mom doesn’t want him—something he will work on for years.

It’s natural for Tucker to ask about her, to want her to love him. Hurtful as the truth is, I refuse to lie. I refuse to give him false hope. But I will soften the truth.

“Not sure, bud,” I answer with as much tenderness as possible. “I told you about the last time she called.” Twisting my glass on the table, I watch the condensation roll down. “Don’t remember all the things we discussed.”

The corners of his mouth turn down as he nods.

“Promise I’ll tell her about Jordan if she calls again.”

“’Kay,” he mutters.

Every protective bone in my body rages at the sight of Tucker’s forlorn expression and wilted frame.

Fuck Brianna. Fuck her for doing this to Tucker.

Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel about her.

You want to take off and traipse around who knows where doing who knows what? Fine. It’s your life. You want to dick people over and ruin every relationship you’ve ever had? I don’t give a damn. Go. Be an irresponsible idiot. Live like rules don’t apply to you. You’re the one who lives with the consequences.

But donotusemy sonas a pawn.Ever.

Tucker deserves the world. He deserves to be a kid, to not stress over food or bills or housing. He deserves to smile and laugh, to be carefree and happy.

If I have to make a wish on every falling star, birthday candle, dandelion, and wishbone, I will. All I want is for him to know life will move forward without her. That her actions and opinions don’t shape his future, he does.

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