10. Jett

Chapter 10

Progress update on winning over Wyla… zero percent change. Every day since Stevie's class on Monday, Wyla has buckled down hard on the "it's not going to happen" front.

I've met them for dinner almost every night this week but it's never alone. Tuesday, Wyla texted that she would have pizza at her house to which she invited both her sisters and their families. Wednesday, they came over here and Anna cooked, but she was careful to never be alone with me even for a second. And last night, she straight up ditched and sent her mom to meet me at the park with Stevie. She's avoiding me, and it's pissing me off.

After working out some pent up aggression at the world's most makeshift gym, I hop in the car and my phone starts to ring. I pull it out of my pocket and see the picture I took of Wyla comforting Stevie when she fell off the beam at tumbling class on the screen.

I answer right away, afraid that she'll change her mind and hang up. "Hey, Wy."

"Hey," she answers softly.

I've noticed I'm the only one who calls her Wy and every time I do, I swear those walls of her fall just a little, as if me calling her that takes her by surprise. But she's got a quick recovery time and those walls shoot back up.

"My mom called, she apparently forgot she had a dentist appointment today. I know this is last minute, but could you pick Stevie up at my mom's house and watch her until I get off? There's no way I can leave work today, we're way too busy, and no one else can watch her."

"Yeah, of course I can."

"Are you sure? I hate to put this on you last minute, I can try—"

"Wy," I cut her off. I know it's not asking me for help that makes her hesitant, it's asking anyone in general for help. I put on a soft but confident tone. "I want to, I promise. It does not inconvenience me in any way to go get my daughter. Can we head back to your house, though? Anna doesn't exactly have baby dolls on standby. "

Wyla lets out a rare chuckle. "Yeah, my mom has a spare key and a car seat. Thank you. I'll be there around six. Maybe earlier if I can—"

"Wyla, it's good, really. I promise to call you if I have any problems, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Do you need the address to my mom's house?"

"You mean the house where I randomly showed up and ended up running into the girl I've thought about constantly for five years, then found out she's also the mother of my child?"

Wyla laughs again and it's such an incredible sound. "Yeah, that's the one."

"I think the drive to that house is permanently etched into my brain. I've got it."

"Right. Thanks, Jett." Wyla's voice goes back all serious—aka those walls only went higher.

"Always. We'll see you when you get home."

Wyla hesitates for a beat. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

Once we hang up, I head straight to Mrs. Bennett's house. When I pull in, her and Stevie are outside, pulling out the car seat.

I hop out to help, and Stevie squeals. "Hey, Daddy. "

"Hey, Little Bee." I kneel in front of her. "You want to hang out with me for a few hours until your mom gets home?"

"Yeah!' Stevie lunges at me and despite only being forty pounds she nearly knocks me backward. I laugh and scoop her up. "Can I, Mamaw?" she asks Wyla's mom.

Mrs. Bennett chuckles as well but then stares at Stevie in my arms. She has the slightest gleam in her eyes and a hint of a smile. Well, at least I stand a chance at getting one of Wyla's parents to like me.

"Yes, baby, you can go with your dad. Mamaw is silly and completely forgot she has to go to the dentist." Mrs. Bennett pulls out the car seat.

"Here, let me get that." I set Stevie down, and take the car seat over to my rental. I put it down, completely unsure of how to do this correctly. "Would you judge me if I said I'm not sure how to put this in?"

Mrs. Bennett laughs. "I think I'd judge you if you did. Don't worry, every dad's first time putting in a car seat involves at least two curse words. You'll get the hang of it after that."

Five minutes—and yes, two curse words—later, I've got the seat secured and Stevie strapped in. Mrs. Bennett shows me the proper way to have her straps, gives me the spare key, and we're on our way .

"Where are we going, Daddy?" Stevie asks.

"Back to your house, thought you might like to play with your toys."

Stevie hums, clearly thinking out her next words. "Or we could go to the store and get a new toy. We've never gone toy shopping together, Daddy."

I chuckle. She's good. "I suppose you're right. We can go, but we have to get your mom something too."

"Yay!" Stevie puts her little fists in the air.

My heart clenches in my chest. How the fuck am I supposed to make it being on the opposite side of the country from her?

Once we're in the store, Stevie takes the lead for the toy section. I decide to grab a cart and pick up some stuff for one of the few recipes of my mom's that I know by heart. Is it chicken alfredo? Yes. But hey, it's something that's not on a professional athlete's meal plan.

Stevie races up and down each aisle twice before finally deciding on a Barbie dressed up as a vet and has a little toy dog with it.

"It's like Mommy." She beams at it. "Mommy takes care of animals. I don't think she's the doctor, though. Mommy said she's like the nurses I see when I go to the doctor."

"Yeah, but she's still very important to both the doctor and the animal, don't ya think? "

Stevie stares at the Barbie again. "Yeah, I think so. Can I sit in the buggy now?"

"Yeah, here." I lift her in and ignore the small strain in my shoulder. "I thought we could get some stuff to make dinner tonight, and we need to get your mom something too, remember?"

"Let's get her roses! Mommy loves roses, just like me. So does Mamaw. I think that's why they named me Rose too."

I smile down at her. "You know, my mom's name is also Rose. So, you've got a bunch of family who love roses."

Stevie studies me for a moment, processing the idea of more family. For a moment, I think she's going to ask questions but then she doesn't. I'm sure the idea of getting a dad sent her for a loop, let alone adding a new aunt and new grandparents to the mix.

We swing through the food section first and I put all of the ingredients we need on the opposite side of the cart so Stevie isn't cramped.

On our way to check out, we pass by the flower display. I reach for a bouquet of red roses but Stevie stops me immediately. "Daddy, we have to get Mommy the orange roses. They don't always have them, but orange is Mommy's favorite color. We have to get those. "

"Good call, Little Bee, orange roses it is. Do you like this one?" I pull one of the bouquets out and get the final approval from the boss.

"Yes, those are good." Stevie nods.

After checking out and loading everything into the car, we head for Wyla's house. Stevie's relatively quiet on the drive over. Part of me fears that she's not comfortable with it just being us without Wyla. And then it really hits me, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing or how to be a father.

What if I screw something up? What if something happens to her and I freeze? What if she…

"Hey, Daddy, thank you for my Barbie. I really love it. I'm happy you're here now," Stevie says from the backseat, and it's as if the sincerity in her little voice lifts a little bit of the weight off my chest.

"You're welcome, Stevie. I'm happy I'm here too. Thank you for helping me get the right flowers for your mom."

"She's going to be so happy. She loves when the orange roses are in the store. I love the pink flowers. Pink is my favorite color."

I chuckle, thinking of the all pink living room we are about to walk into. "You don't say." I pull in the driveway and get everything inside.

Stevie runs over to Poppy in her kennel and lets her out. "Hi, Poppy. Are you so happy we're home?" The giant German Shepherd responds by licking Stevie's face happily, and Stevie falls back in a fit of laughter.

How the fuck am I supposed to make it being on the opposite side of the country from her?

We let Poppy out in the backyard, and Stevie assures me that she won't run away. "Why would she run away, Daddy? She likes living with me and mommy."

Damn lucky dog.

"So, what do you want to do, Little Bee?"

Stevie cocks her head, thoroughly thinking out her options. "Hmm, we could paint!" She beams.

"Paint?" Why do I feel like paint is usually a no-go activity?

"Yeah, paint! Mommy has all the stuff in her room. We put the sheet on the table and paint. It's really fun."

I kneel down in front of her. "And does your mom always let you paint?"

Stevie scrunches her nose and pauses. Mm-hmm, my daughter thinks I'm a sucker.

"Well, Mommy says we can paint sometimes. Sometimes it is messy, but I'll be super careful. And we could paint something for Mommy too. She'd really love it. Pleaseeee." She drags out the word for good measure.

Yup, definitely a sucker.

I sigh. "Alright, show me where the stuff is. "

Stevie squeals while jumping up and down. "Come on, Daddy." She takes off down the hallway into Wyla's room and whips open the closet door. "It's all in this box right here."

Stevie points to a bin on the floor. "You carry it. I'll clean off the table." Stevie races back out without a second thought. I chuckle to myself and reach for the blue bin. As I pull it out something in another box catches my eye.

Another storage bin sits back to the side but unlike Stevie's paint box, there isn't a lid on this box. At the top, folded neatly is a white t-shirt with a big brown stain over the words "cowboy pillows."

I shouldn't look but I can't help it. I pull the box out toward the front. I instantly pull out the t-shirt and there's that clench in my chest that I've felt many times over the years. Memories of Wyla's scrunched nose smile and infectious laugh soon turn into memories of ripping this shirt off and having her skin against mine. The memories of being glued to her that night are easily recalled, and suddenly the sounds she made in my ear become all too real.

I put the shirt back in the box and tell myself to slide it back but then I see a picture of Wyla holding a tiny baby and all bets are off. I pick up the picture, and I swear I've never seen something so incredibly beautiful. Wyla's laid back on a hospital bed, her hair pulled back, and nothing but a smile on her face as she looks down at Stevie in her arms.

I stare at the picture for I don't know how long. I missed this. I didn't get to see Stevie being born. I didn't get to hold Wyla's hand. I wasn't there for the big milestones. I know she didn't know, but four years of my daughter's life are gone. Those nine months of seeing Wyla carry our daughter gone, and I can't get them back.

I look back in the box hoping to find more pictures of Stevie. It looks like there are some possible scrapbooks at the bottom of the box. But on top are some baby hospital blankets, a onesie, and a couple journals. I pick up the top one that has some papers that look like Stevie's drawings tucked into it. As I open it to pull out the papers, a single name at the first page of the journal nearly knocks me on my ass.

Jett.

I don't really know why I'm doing this. Winry told me that journaling helps her anxiety, and suggested I should give it a shot. Writing to no one feels weird to me, but writing to you feels better for some reason. I guess it's because I know I have no way of getting ahold of you about this baby, so I guess this is my way of making you a part of our life. Our—goodness, no longer my life—our life. How am I supposed to do this, Jett? I'm having a baby. A human is growing in my stomach. Gah, that sounds weird. No wonder I'm sick. Not to mention emotional, I've cried more these past two months than I ever have. I cried in the grocery store today because they didn't have orange roses. I know they don't always have them, but today it sent me over the edge and I broke down in tears.

I don't really know where to go from here. I still have a year of school left and this baby is due a month before the semester ends. My sister's told me they'd support me no matter what, that this is my choice. But I'll figure it out, right… No, I will figure it out. Everything will be fine, it has to be. I guess I do feel a little better, maybe I'll keep doing this when I feel overwhelmed.

She wrote to me. Whether she could send them to me or not, she wrote to me. I flip through the journal to see pages full of her handwriting. Flipping through each entry starts with one word. Jett.

"Hey, slow poke, where's the paint?" Stevie asks, walking back in the room.

Her little voice seems to be the only thing that can pull me away from this journal. "Sorry, Little Bee, I got distracted." I put the journal back begrudgingly. As much as it kills me, I know I shouldn't be reading them .

"Those are Mommy's books. She writes in one every day. But she's not writing like a princess story though." Stevie frowns. "She told me she writes them for a friend, but she said I've never met this friend so I think it's Mommy's imaginary friend."

I chuckle. I'm sure I felt imaginary to Wyla too. "Your mom still writes in one of these?"

"Yeah." She shrugs. "Can we paint now?"

I smile. "Yeah, Stevie, we can paint now."