Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

That’s when she saw the truth written all over his face. He needed Mason as much as she did. Mason was the good, the sweet, the special that he’d never seen coming. “Okay, we’ll tell him.”

“Tonight?”

She nodded. “Tonight.”

“Sullian,” Mason yelled, running back over to them. “What is that?”

Sullivan glanced into the habit and frowned. “That’s a giant guinea pig.”

Clara laughed. “It’s a Capybara, not a giant guinea pig.”

Sullivan pointed at the Capybara. “Sure looks like a giant guinea pig to me.”

“Me, too.” Mason burst out laughing, grabbing Sullivan’s hand to tug him forward. “Look at the size of its poo.”

Clara stayed back a little, watched them talk boy-talk that she would never understand. But one thing she did understand was their smiles that felt so true and honest, giving off so much warmth she felt it all around her.

Once they arrived home, Clara made a quick spaghetti dinner and Sullivan helped with the sauce. He’d never been so domesticated in his life, and yet, oddly, it all felt very comfortable, a life he’d once had with his family. He knew the difficult questions and answers ahead of him, but for the first time in his life, he felt like he was on the exact right path. He’d come home to make amends, and he was making them. They had planned to tell Mason the truth after dinner, but he had looked tired after the long afternoon, so Clara thought the conversation should wait until tomorrow. Sullivan agreed. After that, he easily fell into the rhythm of Clara’s and Mason’s evening routine, and before bed, he built a blanket fort with Mason and they all watched a Disney movie.

When the movie wrapped up, Clara began dismantling the fort and said, “Off to bed, buddy.”

Sullivan felt a tug on his shirt. “Sullian, Sullian. Come on, read me a story.”

He glanced back, got hit with those sweet eyes, and felt trapped in the best way possible. Nerves about putting Mason to bed alone danced in his gut, but he clamped down on them and followed Mason up the staircase.

When they entered his bedroom, Mason turned back, awaiting Sullivan’s instruction. “You’ll have to help me here, buddy,” Sullivan said. “I’ve got no idea what to do.”

“It’s easy,” said Mason, running to his dresser. He grabbed plaid pants and a T-shirt. “Pajamas, wash my face and hands, brush my teeth. And then a book.” He picked one up and handed it to Sullivan. The front read: Teamwork by Robert Munsch. Sullivan tucked the book under his arm. “Okay, do I wait here for you?”

“Yep,” Mason said, running toward the door. “Mom always says to brush my teeth twice to get all the sugar bugs.”

“Then, brush your teeth twice.”

With Mason off getting ready for bed, he thought back to what his mom used to do for him. Sullivan turned on the nightstand lamp and then hit the switch for the main light. He pulled the sheets back, then sat on the side of the bed where his mother used to sit when she’d read him a story. Warmth touched all the cold places in his chest.

“Reeeeeady,” Mason yelled, charging toward the bed.

Sullivan shoved his thoughts away then settled in next to Mason so he could see the pictures of the story. As he read, Mason listened to every single word and laughed a bunch. A warm comfort slid over Sullivan. He felt like he’d missed so much, so many happy moments, all because he’d run from the pain he couldn’t face.

It wasn’t until he closed the book and rose that Mason finally spoke again. “Are you my dad?”

Sullivan locked his knees. Then Clara entered the room with a soft smile he thought was meant to reassure him, though even she looked unsteady. Sullivan both wanted to run and drop to the floor all at the same time. He turned to Mason and stared again into those eyes that looked so much like his mother’s and realized all this was simple. The truth was good, felt good, and felt right. Sullivan sat back next to Mason. “Yeah, buddy, I am.”

Mason smiled. “Thought so.”

Clara came over and knelt next to the bed. “You’re so clever, sweetie.” She rustled up his hair. “How did you know?”

“Sullian brought you flowers,” Mason explained. “Mommies and Daddies do that.”

Clara’s smile warmed. “They sure do. You’re such a smart cookie.” She tickled Mason’s side, sending him into a fit of laughter.

When that laughter died, Mason looked directly at Sullivan. “Why were you gone?”

Sullivan hesitated, unsure how to answer.

In that slight pause, Clara interjected, “Remember how we talk sometimes about how people’s mental health is important?”

“Yeah,” Mason said with a nod.