Page 11 of All Fired Up

It doesn’t escape me that they have no return car, making me wonder if more than items for Sow and Grow are in the trailers. Not that I’d mind if I’m being honest. Despite the umm…uncomfortable manner in which we first met, I really liked them. Apparently, the feeling is mutual as both bypass Grady who is standing there expectantly, waiting on hugs from his parents, to come to me.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Clint asks, clearly testing my eyesight as he gives his son a smirk.

“I have a daughter,” his mom gushes as she embraces me.

“Stop hogging her, woman,” his dad mock scolds her as he pretends to tug me away from her. They let me go, Grady finally thinking he’ll get some attention, until they both notice Jason. “Welcome to the family, son,” Clint greets him as he gives him a handshake, treating him as the almost adult that he is.

He gets wrapped up in the same type of hug I did, which can only be described as motherly, though neither Jason nor I have firsthand experience with one. Jason looks at me, unsure how to react, then he shrugs and welcomes it. I’m not sure which of them is less reluctant to let go, but they eventually do. Michelle’s palm cups his cheek, giving it a little pat.

“She’s adopted him as hers now,” Grady informs me. “You, too.”

“Because of you,” I respond.

“No, sweetheart. Because of you and Jason.” Then he walks toward the trucks, leaving me with that bomb. I can’t fathom them accepting us on our own merits and not due to my relationship to Grady. I just assumed they’d like us due to him essentially vouching for us, but I was wrong. Grady was merely our introduction to them; the rest was up to us.

I’m unaware tears have filled my eyes until my vision grows blurry. There’s a weight on my shoulders, Clint’s arm slung over them as he whispers, “It’s okay. Let it out.” Emotions were viewed as almost a weakness in my parents’ opinion, their assumption that they impaired your ability to make a logical decision. They do, but I never understood why that was a bad thing. Clint gives me a few minutes to purge myself of the past while encouraging me to focus on the future.

Seeing the brilliance in his advice, I choose to take it.

**Grady**

I knew my parents would love Helen and Jason, but I gotta admit I’m feeling a bit left out as I return from verifying they stashed some personal items amongst the business stuff. “Hey, remember me?” I tease them, feeling only a little bad when Mom frowns with guilt.

Clint shoulder checks me, making my laugh spill free. “You’re lucky I can’t ground you anymore, young man,” Mom says.

“Helen can exile him to the couch,” Jason offers, earning a glare from me.

“Bro code, dude.”

“Yeah, no,” Jason replies. “You on the couch is better for my sanity,” he mutters, making Helen groan as she blushes.

“Well,” mom begins with a clap, “then how about we get this wedding planned?”

“Not seeing how that stops me from seeing a therapist down the road,” Jason muses.

Mom laughs, declaring, “I’m more concerned with getting grandbabies.”

Helen raises her hand like she’s in a classroom waiting to be called on, causing me to grin at her adorableness. “We, uh…”

Knowing where she’s going with this, I take over, correcting her statement by saying, “Ilet her parents believe we’re already married.”

“To help me and Jason,” she defends me.

“Yes, and I’d do it again without hesitation. In my heart, you are my wife. We just need to make it official to stop any plans they may have for the both of you.”

“Okay,” mom chimes in, “we can fix this.”

“Where’s your mayor?” Dad wants to know.

———

And that’s how, three hours later, we found ourselves in front of Jeff Bronson, me in a suit that thankfully still fits and Helen in a cream dress she’d packed on a whim and stashed in her closet. She assured me she was okay wearing it and not the usual white, that it wasn’t the clothes that mattered but the end result. I should’ve known seeing as how her desire to buck tradition brought her here. To me.

I’d kissed her then and there, not caring we hadn’t reached that part yet. Hadn’t even started the ceremony. Jeff, as he’d insisted we call him, had cleared his throat, but we didn’t stop until my dad had interrupted. Reminding me we were doing this in a hurry for a reason.

That had gotten through to me like nothing else could have. My sole mission in life, other than loving Helen – and by extension Jason – is to protect them. We’d then proceeded without any hitches and signed the certificate. As we didn’t have to worry about blood tests or a waiting period, we took the first opening he had on his schedule.

Our witnesses were Emmett and Kenna, the guests my parents and Jason. We can have more of a celebration later if we choose to, but I’m not sure if we will. Helen and I agreed that neither a service in a church or an actual pastor will make us more married than the private one we’d decided to have.

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