Page 345 of Branded
And neither did Sparky, who was curled up on the sleeping bag with him, softly snoring.
Plus, I had prepped for the sleepover by buying the kid-sized sleeping bag, a shit-ton of junk food (and some veggies and fruit) and by bingeing a shit ton of How It’s Made YouTube videos while I’d been on the road trip.
Loaded up with interesting random facts. Ready to answer all the questions.
And so far, we’d had a great time. We’d watched The Lorax and then Up. Now we were moving onto Home Alone. Which was significantly more violent than I had remembered.
Hopefully, Jules wouldn’t be pissed at me for corrupting her kid.
My only consolation was the fact that Ethan was looking tired.
It was nearing ten o’clock, and it was well past Ethan’s bedtime, so hopefully the kid would pass out before the real violence began and I had to explain to Jules that I’d corrupted her son with hot irons and tarantulas and swinging paint cans.
“Do you think I’m bad?”
I was getting used to questions flying out of left field, but that was next level.
Frowning, I hit pause on the movie and turned to Ethan. “What do you mean, bud?”
His little hands were in fists, his eyes on the screen. On the paused movie that was showing a scene between Kevin and his dad—and one that wasn’t going well for either of the characters in the film.
They were fighting and angry and?—
Shit.
Then came Ethan’s even quieter words.
“If I was good, my dad would want me.”
Shit.
I was not equipped to properly handle this conversation. This was something that Jules should be talking to him about, or a discussion that—at the very least—the three of us should be having together.
“If I’m really, really extra good,” Ethan said so quietly that I had to strain to hear it, “will you be my dad?”
I inhaled sharply.
Seriously, not equipped to have this conversation.
But I wasn’t going to give some off-the-cuff answer, wasn’t going to bullshit Ethan or put him off. The kid was five years old, but he was smart and funny and kind, and he deserved someone to take care with his emotions.
And that someone had to be me.
Because, right then, I was the only one who was there.
So, girding my proverbial loins, I shifted from my sleeping bag, crawling over to sit with my back against the couch on Ethan’s. And watched Ethan’s fists get tighter, his knuckles pressing tightly against his skin. “Look at me, Eth.” It took a moment, but Ethan did eventually glance up at me. With eyes far too serious for a five-year-old.
Damn.
“It would be an honor to be your dad, bud,” I said. “And I hope we’ll get to have a relationship like that someday, but your mom and I just started dating, and being a dad is a big responsibility.”
A long beat of quiet then, “What does that mean?”
“That means…” A breath, and I gave Ethan the truth. “To me, being a dad is something that is very important. Dads are important in general and yeah, you don’t need one, but they can make your life good. And sometimes they can make your life tough, too.” Ethan’s head jerked. “So, it’s important that you think about what you might want. I hope that one day, it’s me in your life like that, but right now, we’re friends and I care about you a lot, and I want to keep hanging out and getting to know you.” I carefully draped my arm around Ethan’s shoulders, used my free hand to smooth out Ethan’s fists, hating the tension in his little body. “I want to be here so that if you decide that one day, I’m worthy of that role, I’ll be here and ready for it.”
Ethan was still. Quiet.
“Would that be okay with you?”
