That had hurt.
But not as much as knowing he was right.
We both loved our son and wanted to raise him in a happy home with loving parents, and that was impossible to do if we stayed together. We were better apart, and we were a good team. But I couldn’t deny that Jase was the more active parent.
He was the dad who organized playdates, homework schedules, vacations, and prepared meals in advance. On top of working full time. I was his opposite. I didn’t do rules well and I wasn’t the most orderly guy on the planet, but I tried to follow the agenda to avoid any issues. For the most part, we made it work.
“Pancakes, eh? We’re both going to turn into pancakes or maybe turkeys after a few days of Grandma’s cooking,” Jase singsonged.
Linc’s toothy grin never failed to make me happy, but I couldn’t completely ignore the dull ache in my heart. I was going to miss another Thanksgiving. Another fucking holiday.
See, the only aspect of co-parenting that we’d never really ironed out was the holidays. Jase came from a huge family, and he liked to take Lincoln home to Indiana for Thanksgiving or Christmas every year. This year, it was Thanksgiving, and their flight left first thing in the morning. Linc was giddy with excitement. Jase’s parents spoiled Linc and their other grandkids rotten. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, and general familial mayhem with a chance of snow. Things I couldn’t offer. My mom lived in Florida with her sister, and my dad had been gone for almost a decade now.
Confession…I wouldn’t have dragged Linc to visit either of them even if Mom lived closer and Dad was still alive. The Rooneys weren’t a tight-knit family. Okay by me. I had a few friends who always extended invites, but it wasn’t the same. Linc was always going to have more fun with Jase. Yet that didn’t make things any easier. I never tried to compete, because I wanted him to have the best and sadly, the best wasn’t me.
On that happy note…
“Hey, I should get going.” I crouched low and opened my right arm wide. “C’mere, buddy. Bring it in.”
Lincoln jumped from his chair, wrapping his arms around my neck. “Will you call me every day?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. I didn’t speak until I could trust my voice not to crack. “FaceTime. I want to see some pumpkin pie.”
“Are you going to get pie too?” he asked, his words muffled in my shirt.
“Yep, and a mini turkey. Don’t you worry about me.”
“Okay.” Lincoln’s bottom lip trembled slightly when he pulled away. He swiped his nose on his sleeve, blinking as if to ward off threatening tears. He was fucking killing me, and he had no idea. Before I could give him my usual schmoopy, sloppy good-bye raspberry, he pointed his finger at my chest. “Don’t get the tree without me. Please.”
The tree. Fuck.
“You got it.” I kissed his cheek and gave him that raspberry, then stood, swallowing the melon in my throat as I followed Jase to the foyer. “Have a safe trip and—”
“Tell me about this tree, Sammy.”
He stepped onto the porch behind me and fixed me with the no-BS dad stare he’d somehow perfected over the past couple of years. If I didn’t know him so well, I might have been nervous.
Jase was tall and lean with jet-black hair, pale skin, and green eyes. He had wickedly high cheekbones, full lips, a dazzling personality, and a tendency to be a steamroller. He usually had the best of intentions, so I let most of his nosiness slide.
“Yeah. My neighbor has this idea that he wants to do something nice for the one-armed guy down the street.”
“He wants to buy you a tree?”
“Well…yes. Of course, I’ll reimburse him.” I explained Chet’s Good Samaritan offer, glancing toward the street when a monster grin threatened to take over my face. “Trees are messy and I don’t need the headache, but it was impossible to talk him out of it.”
“Interesting,” Jase replied shrewdly. “Your neighbor has a crush on you. This must be the same guy Lincoln was talking about. The Martian scientist.”
“I don’t think Chet’s a Martian, but he’s a scientist. He’s popped by a few times this week to help out with a couple of experiments.”
“I heard.”
Okay, sidebar…
I’d suggested that we give Chet a call when our mini volcano experiment went sideways last Monday. Linc had been near tears and I was out of my depth. It was a wise move. Chet had come over after work and set things right. He’d brought extra baking soda and two sets of goggles, then steered us outside and took over. The guy who claimed to know nothing about kids charmed the hell out of mine. Linc hung on Chet’s every word, absorbing science mumbo jumbo the way I’d memorized sports playbooks when I was his age.