Page 88 of Sparrow's Grace

“That’s okay. We loves you anyways.”

Chuckles sounded around in our home at that as they all split off and ran back to their Christmas presents. And there under the tree was my sparkly purple bike that Zeke had repainted and fixed up to give to our daughter.

But really, they ran back to their uncle Grimm.

That man was their savior, other than their daddy.

Smiling, I made a few plates for Grimm, and then finished putting everything up, only to have Zeke growl at me from the mudroom when he saw I did it all while he was outside shoveling snow.

Knowing he was getting riled, I simply smiled, winked, and then said, “Thanks, Honey.”

He made his way over to me, wrapped me in those strong arms that were still my home, and then muttered against my ear, “Four hundred and seventy-four.”

“Still keeping count?” I asked him with a chuckle.

He pulled his head away, and then winked at me, “I’ll never stop keeping count, Angel.”

“Six hundred and ninety-eight,” I whispered against his lips.

His eyes were shining all these years later with nothing but love for me.

And when we heard the pounding feet coming down the hallway, I didn’t bother to hold back my laughter.

“Mommy and Daddy time is over,” I said through my laughter.

“Mom! Dad!”

“Mommy! Daddy!”

What neither one of us really knew was that I lived for the moments he called me Angel.

And he lived for the moments I called him Honey.

Zeke

The teacher and the principal were sneering at me, but I paid them no mind. I walked right up to my boy, got down in front of him, and asked, “What’s that smile for son?”

“One of the new kids laughed at my name,” he said with glee.

I sighed, his mama was right, “And?”

“Knocked two of his front teeth down his throat.”

I didn’t say anything, just got the information I needed that he would be suspended for three days and then left the school.

But not before stopping to get my boy ice cream.

We don’t put up with bullies in this family. Ever.

However, that wasn’t what I was thinking half an hour later as I kissed Savannah’s cheek and then headed back to the school.

That was because I just got a call that my daughter, who also had a first name that could be considered a last name, also got suspended for junk-punching the little shit’s brother that made fun of her, all I could do was hang my head as I ended the call.

Then I tossed my head back and roared with laughter.

“What’s so funny, brother?” Heathen asked.

“Fucking Madison junk-punched a kid who made fun of her name. And it’s the little brother that made fun of Parker.”

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