Page 104 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)
Thirty-Three
Cas
The kid was a movie talker.
Normally, I hated that, hated when people talked during a movie, especially when they could just watch the actual movie and find out answers to all the questions they had and get more material for the pithy comments they found it necessary to impart on the world—and do it after the movie.
But Ethan was cute as fuck.
So, I didn’t mind his questions.
And neither did Sparky, who was curled up on the sleeping bag with him, softly snoring.
Plus, I had prepped for the sleepover by buying the kid-sized sleeping bag, a shit-ton of junk food (and some veggies and fruit) and by bingeing a shit ton of How It’s Made YouTube videos while I’d been on the road trip.
Loaded up with interesting random facts. Ready to answer all the questions.
And so far, we’d had a great time. We’d watched The Lorax and then Up. Now we were moving onto Home Alone . Which was significantly more violent than I had remembered.
Hopefully, Jules wouldn’t be pissed at me for corrupting her kid.
My only consolation was the fact that Ethan was looking tired.
It was nearing ten o’clock, and it was well past Ethan’s bedtime, so hopefully the kid would pass out before the real violence began and I had to explain to Jules that I’d corrupted her son with hot irons and tarantulas and swinging paint cans.
“Do you think I’m bad?”
I was getting used to questions flying out of left field, but that was next level.
Frowning, I hit pause on the movie and turned to Ethan. “What do you mean, bud?”
His little hands were in fists, his eyes on the screen. On the paused movie that was showing a scene between Kevin and his dad—and one that wasn’t going well for either of the characters in the film.
They were fighting and angry and?—
Shit.
Then came Ethan’s even quieter words.
“If I was good, my dad would want me.”
Shit.
I was not equipped to properly handle this conversation. This was something that Jules should be talking to him about, or a discussion that—at the very least—the three of us should be having together.
“If I’m really, really extra good,” Ethan said so quietly that I had to strain to hear it, “will you be my dad?”
I inhaled sharply.
Seriously, not equipped to have this conversation.
But I wasn’t going to give some off-the-cuff answer, wasn’t going to bullshit Ethan or put him off. The kid was five years old, but he was smart and funny and kind, and he deserved someone to take care with his emotions.
And that someone had to be me.
Because, right then, I was the only one who was there.
So, girding my proverbial loins, I shifted from my sleeping bag, crawling over to sit with my back against the couch on Ethan’s.
And watched Ethan’s fists get tighter, his knuckles pressing tightly against his skin.
“Look at me, Eth.” It took a moment, but Ethan did eventually glance up at me.
With eyes far too serious for a five-year-old.
Damn.
“It would be an honor to be your dad, bud,” I said. “And I hope we’ll get to have a relationship like that someday, but your mom and I just started dating, and being a dad is a big responsibility.”
A long beat of quiet then, “What does that mean?”
“That means…” A breath, and I gave Ethan the truth.
“To me, being a dad is something that is very important. Dads are important in general and yeah, you don’t need one, but they can make your life good.
And sometimes they can make your life tough, too.
” Ethan’s head jerked. “So, it’s important that you think about what you might want.
I hope that one day, it’s me in your life like that, but right now, we’re friends and I care about you a lot, and I want to keep hanging out and getting to know you.
” I carefully draped my arm around Ethan’s shoulders, used my free hand to smooth out Ethan’s fists, hating the tension in his little body.
“I want to be here so that if you decide that one day, I’m worthy of that role, I’ll be here and ready for it. ”
Ethan was still. Quiet.
“Would that be okay with you?”
Silence.
Long enough that I found I was holding my breath.
“Yeah,” Ethan eventually whispered, finally looking up at me again. “That would be okay with me.”
“And I don’t know why your father decided that he wasn’t able to be a dad to you”—other than the fact that Nate Miller was a fucking asshole—“but I do know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. You are an awesome kid. Awesome ,” I repeated when Ethan started to look away.
“And your dad is a dumbass to miss out on all your awesomeness.”
Ethan’s eyes went wide, and I realized that I probably shouldn’t be calling Nate Miller a dumbass to his five-year-old son, but that didn’t change the truth.
Nate was a dumbass, amongst other things.
“ Really dumb,” I said again—sort of, anyway. Minus the ass part, in deference to Ethan’s five-year-old ears.
More silence, but at least the tension had left Ethan’s body at that point.
Then he broke it, and what he said made me fall for the kid even harder.
“He’s dumb to miss out on my mom, too,” Ethan said, fierce protectiveness in every word. “Because she’s really awesome, too.”
“She is,” I agreed. “And, I agree, he was dumb to miss out on her, too.”
“Do you love her?”
Another question from left field, but there was no point in denying it. I’d loved Jules for months.
“Yeah, bud.”
Ethan grinned.
But that wasn’t what kept my focus.
Nope.
What stole my focus from the adorable little boy next to me and yanked it to the hall was the gasp. I looked to the wide opening that led to the space and saw that Jules was standing there, the keys I’d loaned her hanging from her hand.
Her mouth had dropped open. Her eyes were locked on me, and even from the distance I could see the panic on her face.
Fuck.
But then she blinked, and it was gone, and she was moving toward me, toward Ethan.
Her hand landed on my knee, squeezing hard, and then she was taking Ethan in her arms, holding him tight. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” she whispered.
“For what?” Ethan asked.
“For making you think that your dad didn’t wa—” She broke off, words growing more than a little choked up.
“Cas says my dad is a dumbass for missing out on me,” Ethan said, squirming slightly so that Jules would release him. “Because I’m awesome.”
Jules froze, dropping her arms when Ethan straightened away from her.
“That’s true,” she said, recovering quickly.
“You are exceptionally awesome.” A breath.
“And while I don’t think that cursing is the answer”—slightly narrowed eyes in my direction—“he is a dumbass. Mostly because how could anyone live with not having you in their life?”
A blip of quiet, and I wondered if Jules was holding her breath as she waited for Ethan to reply.
Because I was.
And then Ethan did reply, and it was a fucking knife to the gut. “Because I’m bad.”
“Oh, buddy,” she said on a rush of air, confirming that she had been holding her breath, but her tone was calm and steady and gentle when she said, “We talked about this before. You didn’t do anything wrong, remember?
Your dad wasn’t ready to be a dad. It had nothing to do with you.
In fact, he never even met you, so it really didn’t have anything to do with you. ”
Tiny hands clenched into tiny fists again. “Why didn’t he want to meet me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, and I wanted to pummel Nate fucking Miller all over again. “I really wanted him to. Because I knew that he’d love you. But sometimes people can’t be what we need them to be, and we have to stop asking them to.” A beat. “Otherwise, we’re the ones who get hurt.”
One of Ethan’s hands relaxed. “Like how Finn isn’t good at four square?”
Jules’s tension flowed out of her, her relief palpable in the air. “Yeah, bud. Exactly like that.”
“Okay,” Ethan said, curling into her.
“Do you have more questions about your dad?” she asked, hugging him close. “Or other things you need to talk about?”
“Nope.” He was back to popping his p’s, which meant that I found the tension flowing out of me, and it flowed faster when Jules ruffled Ethan’s hair, sprawled out onto the sleeping bag and made it clear she didn’t care I’d corrupted her son with tarantulas and paint cans.
“Now,” she said, “should we watch Kevin get those robbers?”