Page 75 of Small Town Frenzy
“You can stay at mine.” The words came before I had a chance to think them through, my heart just throwing out an offer like it’s the one in control of my head.
Jacob gets up, leaving the glove for Griffin to have. He rummages through a bookshelf and then climbs onto a box to investigate the top of the desk. Griffin gets off the floor and comes to sit next to me. With his hands in his lap and his shoulders slumped forward, he’s still taller than I am. “Is that a real offer?”
Logically, I shouldn’t have made it without thinking it through, but I can’t manage to regret saying it anyway. “It’s a real offer, Greene.”
With Jacob busying himself with coins he found in a jar, Griffin leans over and kisses my cheek. “I appreciate it, Dover. I’ll think about it.”
“Ouch.”
“No ouch,” he says, laughing. “I just don’t know if you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”
“So the rejection is for my benefit?” Now I’m laughing.
“I’m a Greene. The enemy of your people. I probably won’t be welcomed with open arms.”
I open my arms wide for him. With a grin bigger than the Grand Canyon, he leans over, and I embrace him. “It’s just you and me. No enemies involved.” I kiss the back of his head as he complains about having to get up. “We should get back to your family.”
“Nah.” He sits. “They’ve already gone about their own business. My dad went with my sister, so we have the house to ourselves.”
Darting my gaze to the little one who’s content to count money that he has no idea how to count, I point. “Almost to ourselves.”
Griffin gets up and scoops Jacob into his arms, then tosses him over his shoulder. Now staring at me as he’s being carried away, he giggles. “Come on, Mommy.”
I get it and cross the small space to the desk. Bending down, I look at his rookie card once more before my gaze spots a framed photo hidden in the back corner by a box of tissues. I slide it aside and smile, seeing him with his mom posing in front of a baseball field. She’s very pretty. Her eyes are bright like his, and her hair color is even similar. It’s easy to see why my father was once in love with her.
“You coming, Cricket?”
“Yeah.” I shift the box back in place and scurry out the door. They’re already downstairs when I reach the landing. Coming down, I hold the railing and catch a glimpse of them in the living room.
Sitting on the couch, Griffin shows our son a puzzlepiece and places it in its rightful spot. “This is called puzzling.”
Leaning against his leg, Jacob rests his forearm on Griffin like he’s known him for years. “I puzzling at home.”
“You puzzle? No way,” Griffin exclaims like this is the coolest news he’s ever heard. “What kind of puzzles do you have?”
It’s tempting to jump in and respond for him or whisper in his ear to remind him, but these conversations are important for them to have just the two of them, even if he stumbles on his words. Jacob looks at me for answers. I nod, and say, “You got this, buddy.”
He turns back to Griffin. “States and animals.”
“Whoaaaa, so neat. Will you show them to me the next time I’m over?” Jacob nods, grinning with pride. When Griffin picks up a piece from the table, he says, “I used to puzzle with my mom.” His voice is lower, his tone reflective. I can’t get a good look at his eyes, but this giant of a man becomes a little boy again when he shares stories of childhood. He was forced to grow up faster than he should have, yet his parents aren’t to blame. We do what we can to survive, but his mom’s death haunts him in a way that I’m not sure he’ll ever escape.
I have no idea if he’ll be open to talking about that, but he makes me want to try.
“My mom doesn’t puzzle,” Jacob blurts out, then laughs. Well, at least he didn’t lie.
Griffin tries to appear in total concentration mode, but I see the grin on his lips when he asks, “What do you think about puzzling being one ofourthings, Champ? It can be something we do together, the two of us.”
“I want Mommy to puzzle.”
“Your mommy can puzzle with us.” He glances at me. “I hope she does.”
When Jacob runs around the table to throw himself around my leg, his head drops back to look up at me. “We can puzzle together,” he says with exuberance. “Griffin said so.”
I bend down, wrapping my arm around his back. When I catch Griffin watching us with a sincere smile on his face as if he feels lucky to witness this, my heart beats faster and my pulse races. This feels real with him. Is it logical to fall this fast? Not one bit. But why deny something that feels so right? I don’t want to live like that. I want to puzzle with him and lie in a daybed in his arms outside at night. I want—I take a breath, picking up Jacob and holding him in my arms. Although I’ve had family around my whole life, staff, and coworkers that I know better than my own father, for the first time, I don’t feel alone.
Hugging Jacob to me, candidly, I smile just for Griffin, sharing my heart the only way I can right now—quietly, but fully. “The family puzzle night is making a lot more sense now.”
He says, “It’s a tradition I’d like to carry on.”
