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Chapter twenty-four

Danae

GRIFFIN

Nothing’s wrong. Just can’t stop thinking about you. Or your perfect lips.

ME

monkey covering eyes emoji

GRIFFIN

You’re blushing, aren’t you?

ME

eye roll emoji

GRIFFIN

I only wish I was there to see it.

ME

I’m not going to answer a question today if you keep distracting me like this. I have things I need to accomplish.

GRIFFIN

Distracting you like what, exactly?

ME

You know what I mean.

GRIFFIN

Maybe I want you to spell it out. You know, to make sure I’m correctly understanding the thought factory.

ME

You’re ridiculous.

GRIFFIN

I’m also patient. And persistent.

ME

Fine. Distracting me with thinking about kissing you. Stop it.

GRIFFIN

I have zero desire to stop thinking about kissing you. Or to stop you from thinking about kissing me. I’m afraid you’ve made an impossible request.

ME

What was your favorite subject in school?

GRIFFIN

Changing the subject, are we?

ME

Answer the question, or I’m not answering any. And this conversation will be over.

GRIFFIN

Recess.

ME

Does not count. Although absolutely the answer I would have guessed for you.

GRIFFIN

Probably science. I liked learning about how things worked and doing hands-on experiments.

Who’s your closest friend?

ME

Kara Miller, the music teacher at my school. I’m friends with all of the staff, of course, but Kara is my best friend. She and her husband have a little girl, Millie, who’s a little under two years old.

GRIFFIN

I’ll have to meet them soon.

ME

She’s married to your biggest fan. It could get awkward. I make no promises about Ron’s level of chill.

GRIFFIN

Bring it on.

K ara makes a show of fanning herself. “That is so hot. Everything about it—Griffin West making your favorite meal, being vulnerable, and then making out in the kitchen. Holy cow, how is this your life?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question, if I’m honest,” I say after swallowing a bite of my sandwich. I give Kara a serious look. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“Why would you think that?” she asks.

I drop eye contact. “I don’t know. He’s just so .

. . different than what I pictured for myself in a partner.

His schedule is utter madness, and maybe that’s the worst kind of position to put myself in when I’m trying to figure out life for Jason.

Am I being selfish by pursuing a relationship with Griffin when Jason needs so much love and support? ”

“We’ve been over this, Danae,” Kara says with a sigh.

“Go over it again. You know how much I mull things over,” I say.

Kara rolls her eyes. “You’re like a cow regurgitating its food to chew on again.

” I scrunch up my nose at her gross analogy.

“Swallow this down, once and for all, Danae Collins: you deserve happiness. You deserve love. You having more happiness and more love in your life is only going to make it possible for you to give even more to Jason. Plus, it sounds like Griffin is amazing with Jason. And the sister. I don’t see anything about this being negative for Jason. So stop worrying.”

“When has ‘stop worrying’ ever worked with me?” I ask wryly.

“Let this be the first time,” Kara admonishes, pinning me with a look. “I’m serious.”

I sigh again. “Also, Griffin suggested that we should do something together with you and Ron sometime. He wants to meet my best friend.”

Kara nearly drops her fork, laden with leftover pasta. “Do you understand what you’d be getting yourself into, putting Ron in the same room with the Wizard of Defense? Are you sure about this?”

I laugh. “I told Griff the same thing, but he seems to think he can handle it.”

Kara smiles and points her fork at me. “Don’t think I missed that shortened nickname. You’ve officially hit the next level of intimacy: pet names.”

“Calling him Griff instead of Griffin is hardly a pet name. Can you please eradicate the term ‘pet name’ from your vocabulary altogether? Along with ‘levels of intimacy?’ You’re so weird,” I say.

“Says the one who chooses this weirdo as her bestie.”

Susan pokes her head into the library and asks, “Danae, could I talk to you in the hallway for a moment?” Susan is Jason’s classroom teacher this year, and my stomach sinks at her request. It’s been a long week, and I’ve been looking forward to a quiet Friday evening to decompress.

Griffin has some dinner he has to attend, so I was planning on a date with a book tonight after Jason's bedtime.

I get the sinking feeling that my quiet evening is about to be derailed.

Jason is tucked away in the reading tent while I’m finishing up a few tasks, so I follow her out to the hallway.

She lowers her voice. “I wanted to get your help with something. There have been several kids in my class over the past couple of weeks who have had things go missing. Nothing major, just little trinkets like pencil toppers, or the erasers and smelly pens I give out as behavior incentives. One of the boys claims he saw Jason take something from another student’s desk today.

I asked Jason about it, but he was pretty evasive.

Could you maybe have a follow-up conversation with him tonight? ”

I let out a long breath. “Of course, I can.”

Susan looks at me with compassion. “I’m so sorry. I know this is all really hard. I’m on your team, on Jason’s team. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Nodding, I assure Susan I’ll keep her posted. The knot of dread twists in my stomach for the remainder of the afternoon as we head home and make dinner.

“Hey bud, I need to ask you about something,” I say after we’ve eaten. I at least wanted his blood sugar to be regulated before having this conversation.

Jason looks at me, waiting. Something about the moment feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Ms. Willard told me today that some of the kids in your class have been missing some items, and someone thought they saw you take something out of another student’s desk. Could you tell me about that?” I ask.

His eyes look panicked, but he promptly shuts down the jittery energy as his face reddens. “I didn’t take nothing. That student was lying. Or maybe he saw wrong. I swear I didn’t take anything.”

I’m so out of my depth. It seems obvious that he’s not telling the truth, but he swears he is telling the truth. How do I get him to be honest without damaging his trust in me because I don’t believe him? I’m paralyzed by indecision.

“Can I go play Legos now?” Jason asks. The jittery energy is back.

“Take your plate to the sink first, please,” I respond.

You’re failing, Danae. He’s obviously lying. You can’t let him get away with lying. But calling him out on the lie might crush him. He isn’t even calling you “Mom” yet. Will he ever think of you as his mom if he thinks you don’t trust him?

What do I do?

After doing the dishes, I walk upstairs to go think in my room. I’m itching to write out a pro/con list, but that seems a little much for the situation. As I walk past Jason’s room, I decide to take a quick peek around. Maybe if I have concrete proof, he’ll respond more honestly.

I look under his bed and even under the pillow.

Nothing seems out of place in the closet, but when I open his dresser drawers, I quickly find a secret stash buried under his socks.

Like Susan said, there are little erasers, a couple of coins, a tiny container of dried-up slime.

Cheap, silly stuff that I would have bought for him if he’d asked.

Gathering the contraband items, I walk back downstairs, steeling myself for this confrontation.

“Jason? I need to talk to you again,” I say, taking a seat on the couch. He puts down the Lego pieces he was holding and notices what I have in my hands.

“Where did you find that? Did you look through my room?” he asks, voice rising.

“Jason, we need to talk about why you took the other kids’ stuff. You can ask me if you want to have some little things to fidget with. But stealing other people’s things is wrong,” I say, taking care to keep my voice calm.

“You shouldn’t have looked in my drawer!” Jason yells.

My heart pounds, and my hands tremble with adrenaline. “You shouldn’t have lied to me about taking this stuff, Jason. I only looked through your room because I knew you weren’t being honest with me.”

“You’re not allowed to do that! You stay out of my room!” he screams, hands clenched in fists .

“I’m your mom now, Jason, so I do get to look through your stuff if I think you’re doing something that’s not safe or that’s hurting other people,” I say, my own voice trembling with frustration.

“You’re not my mom! I don’t have a mom! You can’t tell me what to do!” Pure rage engulfs Jason’s entire body as he growls with anger. His narrowed eyes might as well be shooting real daggers.

It’s unnerving. Almost scary.

He screams with rage and then runs up the steps, slamming the door to his room behind him.

Trying to calm down my nervous system, I take several deep breaths.

My thumb makes quick work of the clear polish on my fingernails as I contemplate what to do.

Sometimes, being alone in his room helps him calm down.

Maybe he’ll listen to some music and come down from the anger.

Maybe I should give him a few minutes of space.

But when I hear the sound of ripping and more angry growls, I realize that giving him space right now isn’t going to be the right choice.

I rush upstairs and turn the doorknob, only to be met with resistance trying to open the door.

Thankfully, it’s only a pile of blankets and pillows blockaded against the door, so I push it open with little effort.

I’m not at all prepared for the sight before me.

Jason is standing on his bed, ripping the signed poster of Griffin into shreds. The other players’ posters are already on the floor, ripped and crumpled in pieces.

As he continues tearing, Jason mutters, “These posters are stupid. I never wanted these. What a dumb way to decorate a room. I hate these posters. I hate everything in this room.”

Tears spring to my eyes as I’m frozen in place. What is happening? What do I do?

My body instinctively takes over before my mind can think coherently, and I move toward Jason and try to take his hands. “Jason, stop.”

He hurls the remaining strips of poster to the floor before yelling, “No!”

Gently taking his hand, I say, “Bud, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Can we sit down on the bed?” He yanks his hand away, so I lightly place an arm around his shoulders instead, easing him toward me. He resists at first but suddenly wraps his arms around my neck and bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Miss Danae! I’m sorry I made a mess! I’m such a bad kid!” he gasps between sobs.

I ease us to a sitting position and scratch his back. “You’re not a bad kid. You’re an amazing kid. And I love you so much.”

“You can’t love me. I did bad stuff,” Jason says, still sobbing into my shoulder.

I nudge his chin so that he’ll look at me.

“I do love you. Do you remember what I told you about what it means that I love you? That I choose you, that I’m with you one hundred percent, forever.

You’re mine no matter what. No matter what you do, I’m not going to stop loving you, okay?

I’m not leaving you, ever. You’re not leaving me, ever. You’re still stuck with me.”

Jason sniffles as he watches my face, as though looking for any signs that I’m lying. “Promise?”

I hug him as tight as I can without hurting him. “Promise.”

He sniffs again. “I’m sorry I took the stuff. I don’t know why I did that. My brain just told me that I should take it, so I did. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” I say. “How ’bout we go together to take the stuff back to Ms. Willard tomorrow morning?”

Jason looks resigned but nods his head. His eyes fill with tears again as he looks at the floor. “I’m sorry I tore the posters. I don’t think they’re stupid. I shouldn’t have done that. I really loved those posters.”

Wrapping my arm around his shoulders, I nestle him into my side. “It will be okay. We can find some different decorations. Or maybe Sammi and Mr. Griffin could get us a new poster. I’ll ask him, okay?”

“Okay,” Jason’s voice is small. “And Miss Danae? I really am glad you’re my mom now. I lied when I said you’re not my mom. I want you to be my mom.”

I squeeze him one more time. “Well, good. Because I want to be your mom.”