Page 30 of Something Reckless
EASTON
“ B oys’ niggghhhttt!!! ”
Jagger and Cameron streak down the hallway, launching their homemade paper planes as they go.
While the girls are off doing their thing, us guys are at the house, holding a boys’ night of our own. I’ll admit it—this is nothing like the kind of boys’ night I would have participated in a few months ago. In my opinion, tonight is so much better.
Because it includes Jagger and Cameron.
My son is spending the night at my place. This is my first time hanging out with him without Alba. And while I enjoy being around her— way too much lately—there’s something special about getting this time with Jagger. It feels important, andI’m excited to start making up for lost time.
Eventually, the rest of the guys settle down with a movie, pigging out in front of the TV screen. But I can’t sit still. My mind is active, thinking through all the things I wish I’d had a dad around to teach me.
I drag Jagger down the hall to my room and show him how to tie a necktie. “You never know when you’ll need to make a good impression in life,” I tell him as he stands in front of the mirror grinning and looking so damn proud of himself.
Then I instruct him on the best way to give a proper handshake. “Shoulders back. Eye contact. And a firm grip.” We practice until I’m satisfied that he’s mastered the technique.
Next, we end up in the garage and I teach him the fundamentals of using some basic tools. By the time we’re done, he’s well-versed in the differences between a wrench and a screwdriver.
Jagger asks a trillion questions, excitedly soaking up everything I say. Then, he’s asking what he can go fix. So while I plate up some takeout for us, my son roams around the house, tightening the screws on every light switch panel.
“What do we do now?” the little boy asks, popping out of his chair the second he’s done eating his dinner.
I lean back in my seat, setting down my fork and glancing around the room for what to work on next. “Hmm. Maybe we can head out to the driveway and I can show you how to change a tire…” I muse out loud.
Jagger’s eyes light up with excitement but Rocco appears in the kitchen entryway and puts a halt to my plans.
“Dude, I know you’re having a blast being Mr. Dad and all, but let’s show the boy a good time.
We’re headed out to the backyard.” He turns to Jagger, who’s now holding up a screwdriver in each hand.
“What do you say, Bob the Builder? Want to lose the tool belt and go roast some marshmallows?”
“Yeah!” the little boy yips.
Shit—my brother is probably right. It’s supposed to be a fun night, and here I am cramming eight years of dad-ing into it. Even though Jagger seems to be having a great time, I’m sure he’d rather be playing.
Soon, we’re all huddled around a small campfire. Oliver keeps trying to turn the damn thing into a raging bonfire, and I keep having to remind him that we have HOA rules to follow.
Damn, since when did I become the responsible one?I’m not sure when it happened. But setting a good example for Jagger is important to me.
A ding comes through on Lincoln’s phone. He checks it, and instantly starts barking at Rocco. “What is wrong with you?!” he yells. “What were you thinking, signing me up on a dating app without my permission?”
Rocco’s mouth twitches with repressed laughter. “I could tell you what I was thinking, but you probably wouldn’t want me saying it in front of your kid.”
“J-Jules…” Lincoln’s eyes widen as he frantically scrolls through the app. “I just received a match request from Jules .” He looks like his head is about to explode.
Rocco snorts.
Then he snickers.
Then he’s bent over in half, howling with laughter.
“Not. Freaking. Funny.” Lincoln takes off, chasing Rocco around the yard with a metal spatula.
Role model behavior. Totally.
Oliver holds up his phone, recording the whole ridiculous incident. “Hmm…future blackmail material…” he mumbles sagely to himself.
Meanwhile, Jagger just shrugs as he and Cameron continue calmly roasting their marshmallows over the fire. “Aunt Jules is really cool,” my boy tells his cousin. “You’d like her. ”
“Is she pretty?” Cameron asks.
Jagger nods. “Yup. And she smells like chocolate chip cookies. And when she babysits, she lets me stay up until I fall asleep in front of the TV. And she’s a good friend.” He frowns gravely. “My aunt Alba says that being a good friend is more important than being pretty,” my boy adds sagely.
Cameron nods slowly, like he’s analyzing this brand new world view. “Hmm…Interesting.”
Lincoln gets a few whacks in with the spatula but it doesn’t do much to keep Rocco from cackling. Breathless and sweaty, Lincoln finally collapses on the lawn and Rocco does a few victory laps around his prone body before dropping in the grass, too.
Snickering, the kids go back to chowing down on their burnt marshmallows.
Later on, Rocco and Oliver are on the other side of the campfire, cracking open some beers. I’m just sitting here in the shadowy backyard, content with my electrolyte drink, watching the evening unfold.
Smiling to myself, I pick up my phone and snap a few shots so I can always remember this special night. I can’t resist the urge to post a few of them on social media, making sure the kids’ faces are obscured, of course.
As I’m quietly admiring the photos, Lincoln drags himself into a lawn chair and pulls it up next to mine. From where I’m sitting, I feel my oldest brother’s eyes on me.
“What?” I ask, giving him a sidelong glimpse.
“Just wondering where the fuck my reckless playboy brother went? This time last year, in the off-season, you were drinking your weight in alcohol and partying it up with your teammates in some random city on the other side of the globe. At this time of year, I usually don’t even know where to find you.
Now, here you are, hanging out with an eight-year-old and looking as happy as a clam. ”
I chuckle. “It’s crazy, right?” I rake my fingers through my hair. “But I can honestly say, there’s no place I’d rather be but right here with my boy.”
These days, I’m starting to see why Lincoln is always so uptight. Sheesh. Having another human to be responsible for sure makes you think twice about getting plastered on a week night.
I really have no desire to drink right now. I’m having a great time hanging out with Jagger and Cameron and my idiot brothers, feeling incredibly grateful for this bonding time with the boys.
As the night goes on, my two younger brothers are still across the yard, arguing about something dumb. Lincoln goes inside with Cameron to warm up some leftovers for him.
Jagger comes and plops down in the lawn chair next to me.“Hey, Dad?” His big eyes look up at me.
My chest warms. I’ll never get tired of hearing him call me that. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
When he hesitates to speak, I reach out and rub his shoulder encouragingly.
“Mimi and Grandma take really good care of me,” he says finally, “But sometimes, I get sad about not having my mom around.” He looks down, picking at some sticky marshmallow that’s glued to his little fingers. “But having you here makes me feel better. I just want to tell you that I love you.”
I grab his little hand and pull him over to my chair, throat closing up as I try to speak. My arms lock him in a hug and I kiss the top of his head. “I will always be here for you, son. I love you, too.” My voice trembles. “I love you, too.”
Jagger buries his face against my shoulder. “Twenty-four-seven. All the time.”
“Yeah, Buddy. All the damn time.”
I can’t get the conversation out of my head. Even after I’ve put my son to bed in his new room, and climbed into my own bed. Now more than ever, I’m determined to give that perfect little boy the very best life has to offer. Nothing has ever been more important to me.
That’s why the text message I receive from Lincoln just before midnight nearly makes me fall out of my bed.
I bolt upright between my tangled sheets, hitting the call button on my brother’s name and not giving a fuck how late it is.
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss, my heart pounding like it never has before.
Lincoln pulls in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Easton. The DNA test results are in. Jagger’s not your son.”