Side Hustle (Dawson Family 3)

“Yeah. In that case, make me lunch and dinner too.”

“Is she coming back?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure, but I think I made it clear I’ll only handle this through a lawyer. I’m not making deals or promises with her.” Wes takes a long drink of coffee. “I don’t know what to do.” He sets his mug down and puts his head in his hands. “He’s her son too.”

“It’s a hard situation,” I agree, putting my hand on Wes’s shoulder.

“You said your dad wasn’t around when you were a kid, right?”

“Right. I was glad when he came back into our lives, but mostly because my mom was a dead-beat drug addict who left me to raise my brother and sister.”

Mrs. Dawson turns away from the stove to look at me, but her eyes aren’t full of judgment. She feels bad for me, which is almost worse than being judged. I don’t want anyone’s pity.

“Jackson has you,” I go on. “So it’s a totally different situation.”

“She’s never been a mother to him,” Mrs. Dawson says, and I know she’s fighting hard not to scream profanities and curse Daisy’s name. “Thank God you’re in the process of being granted full custody of Jackson.”

Wes nods. “She is his mother, but she’s left him. Twice. I’m not risking him getting to know his mom only to have her leave again.”

“That’s smart,” I agree. “She’ll have to earn the right to see him. He’s a great kid.” I look into the living room, only able to see the top of Jackson’s head from where I’m sitting. “I can’t imagine leaving him like that.”

Mrs. Dawson beams at me. “I’ve always been a believer in things happening for a reason. Sometimes the reason takes years to manifest, but it’s there.”

The tea kettle starts to whistle, and I get up to get it. Mrs. Dawson’s words echo in my head, making me think I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe everything in my shitty past happened to push me here right now.

I never would have met Wes in the South Side. And I never would have come to this small Indiana town. The only reason we met was because I took a job thinking I could con my new boss. If I didn’t have such shitty moral character before, I wouldn’t be where we are right now.

I’m happy.

Weston is happy.

Jackson is happy.

Maybe this did happen for a reason.36Scarlet“What’s all this?” I ask, looking at the papers and boxes cluttering the living room. We just got back to Weston’s house. In the daylight, things never seen as scary as they do in the dark. And the more I think about the universe wanting me to meet Weston, the better I feel about this whole situation.

“Family heirlooms. Jackson, don’t touch them,” he adds quickly.

“Why are they out?” I take off my coat and move to the couch, curiously picking up an old book.

“You-know-who wore her mother’s wedding dress at our wedding.” He looks uncomfortable talking about it. “She wanted it back and I wasn’t sure what box it was in.”

“Oh. This stuff is cool.”

“You like Civil War history?” he asks, looking a little amused.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know much about it. But I love antiques. Wait, all this stuff is from the Civil War?”

“Some of it is. Not all is that old. It’s been in the Dawson family for years and gets passed down to the oldest son. Jackson will get it someday.”

“Can I see it?” Jackson asks, peering into a box.

“Sure,” Wes says, and we all sit on the floor together. There are books, handwritten letters, a World War II Army uniform, a saber, and a silver tea set that looks like it has to be worth a pretty penny.

“Can we use it?” Jackson asks as I carefully look at the teapot, feeling like I should be wearing those white gloves you see museum workers wearing when they handle artifacts.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to drink out of,” Wes says, looking at the sugar bowl. “It might have traces of lead in it.”

I gently set the teapot down and grab my phone, doing a Google search for more info on the tea set.

“Holy shit—I mean, shoot. But holy.” I turn my phone around, showing Wes the value of the tea set.

He takes my phone from me, eyes going wide. “These aren’t in as good of condition.”

“They’re tarnished, which can be cleaned. That’s crazy though.”

Wes nods. “It is. I had no idea.”

“That sword and the uniform are probably worth a lot too.”

“I know the saber is,” he tells me. “And we know the personal history of it.” He sorts through a box for a minute, pulling out a photo of great-great-great Grandpa Dawson holding the exact sword.

“Wow. That’s incredible.”

“It is pretty cool,” he agrees. We spend another half an hour looking through the stuff before putting it away. Wes tries to get Jackson to sit and watch a movie with us since we’re tired. Any other time this kid would jump at the chance to watch TV, but since both Wes and I are dead tired, of course he wants to paint instead. Everything is fine at first, and then Jackson paints his face in the one minute Wes and I turned our backs, talking in hushed voices about being extra careful at preschool pick-up with Daisy back in town.