“I’m not that old. I’m in my prime! And don’t touch my side.” I rub it while she wiggles her fingers at me playfully.
Or more like a threat.
I bolt inside to run away from her, and the smell of stew hits me in the face. I nearly run into Julia who is greeting us with beer and she sidesteps just in time before I bowl her over.
“Sorry, Julia.” I feel bad for having a good time and smiling when Dillon is in the hospital, but I know that’s Finley’s goal. She wants me to be happy.
“It’s okay. I’m setting the table. Go get washed up,” she says, scolding me like a grandmother does her grandchildren.
“Now you’re saying I smell too. Everyone is a load of honesty today,” I say, bypassing the big couches in the living room. I head down the hall with Finley right behind me. When I get to my room, I glance at Dillon’s door next to mine.
It’s open.
I remember leaving it closed.
“Where are you going?” Finley asks, tugging at my shirt.
“I’m making sure everything is okay. I remember closing this.” I kick the door open a bit more, blocking Finley so whoever is in here can’t get to her, when my jaw drops.
The room is painted.
The furniture is put together.
His race car bed, a real one, not some cheap plastic bullshit, is all set up. Everything is in place and ready for him to come home.
“Oh wow,” Finley says as she steps inside, looking at every corner.
I brush a hand over my mouth, and the guys huddle up in the doorway. Heaven is practically shaking with excitement. “Do you like it? Do you?”
“He better fuckin’ like it. Got paint on my good shoes for this kid,” Zeke says, puffing on a cigar, and he sends me a wink.
The walls are painted blue with a racecar track design. He has his own computer, bookshelf, and closet full of new clothes.
“You guys did all this?” I ask.
“We wanted you to spend time with him when he came home. We didn’t want you to worry about setting his room up. We’re family. This is what family does,” Jaxon states simply.
“Thank you, guys.” I’m at a loss for words. I’m so damn tired, and I didn’t feel like doing this today, but they did. I can’t believe it. “Do you really think he’ll ever come home and get to see this?” The underlying question is, ‘do you think he’ll die before he gets the chance to come home?’ I don’t have the strength to say that, though. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.
“He is his father’s son. He’s going to come home,” Sebastian says.
“Grayson! Grayson!” Maggie yells my name from down the hall, and her heels are clicking fast, telling me she’s running.
I walk out the door and see a frazzled, exhausted social worker with tears in her eyes. “What is it?” I ask, not liking the emotion plastered all over his face.
“Dillon’s mom. Kendall. She wants him back.”
I grip the edge of the door so hard the wood creaks. “That bitch isn’t getting my kid back,” I say.
“And he is already lawyered up,” Zeke finger quotes and stands next to me.
“She doesn’t have a strong case, but courts side with the mother all the time. You’re already his legal guardian, so it might be easier than we think, but she’s unstable. I don’t know the lengths she’ll go to.”
Let her come to me. Let her threaten to take Dillon. I’ll put a bullet between her eyes and feed her to the fucking fish.
Chapter Eighteen
FINLEY