41. Adam
Six months later
I held up the baseball glove. “One more!” I called to Eric, who stood across from me in our backyard.
He lifted his arm and threw the ball with all of his might, socking it straight to me. I caught it. “Good throw!”
Eric had settled in well. There was no doubt he carried some anxiety and trauma from what had happened with his dad. It wasn’t specifically that last night because he hadn’t known what was really happening until the last few minutes. But the first five years of his life had been spent with the overbearing and abusive presence of his father, and that had shaped him. He wanted approval from adults fiercely. He was almost too well-behaved.
I approached him and saw that flicker of hesitation and worry in his gaze. “You throw better than me.”
A smile cracked across his face when I reached out to ruffle his hair before giving him a light squeeze on one of his shoulders.
“I think we’re cooking tonight,” I said as we began walking toward the back porch, which had a door that led into the kitchen.
“Mom is doing the weather report tonight?” He was rubbing his fingers together with one hand, a nervous habit I’d noticed. I wanted to erase all of his anxiety, but I knew from my own experience it would take time, and there would always be triggers to manage.
“Yep, she is. We’ll watch it while we get dinner ready.”
He looked up at me. “Do we have to cook?”
“Pizza?” I teased.
“Can we?”
“Deal. We cook most nights when your mom’s working,” I pointed out as I held the door open for him.
He skipped ahead of me before spinning back as he set the baseball in a little cubby by the door, taking the glove from me when I handed it over.
“I know we do. Mom loves that about you,” he replied with a smile.
My heart gave a rounding kick. I was so gone for Tessa that any positive feedback about how she felt about me made my heart happy.
“I hope so. I love watching her do the weather report.”
Eric stopped, peering up at me. His gaze sobered. “You really do.” He blinked. “You’re not like my dad. At all. You don’t even get mad.”
This time, my heart gave an achy beat. “There’s not much to get mad about.” I knelt to meet him at eye level. “Here’s something important to understand. Everybody gets mad. You say I don’t get mad much, but it’s all about how you handle it.”
Eric studied me. “You don’t yell or say mean things.”
“Remember when you and your mom came to my office last week?” Eric nodded quickly. “I was actually kind of mad at my brother.”
“Which one?”
I chuckled at that. “It could’ve been any of them. In this case, it was Kenan.”
“But he’s your twin brother.”
“True, and I love him very much like all my siblings, but I was mad, or maybe annoyed, because he forgot something, and I had to go out of my way to deal with it. Right before you showed up, I had just told him not to waste my time again.”
“That was it?”
“That was it. You don’t know what my life was like when I was a little boy, but my grandfather used to lose his temper a lot, just like your dad. He’s in jail too. Everybody gets mad. You’ll get mad sometimes too, but it’ll be okay.”
He studied me, his brow wrinkling in concentration before he nodded slowly. “Okay.”
We ordered pepperoni pizza because it was his favorite and mine. Rich was safely in prison for many years and had agreed to relinquish his parental rights. It didn’t even seem that he cared to try to have a relationship with Eric, which infuriated me because it was so clear he’d only maintained that connection to hurt Tessa. I was beyond relieved that Tessa and Eric were safe and that the legal process had concluded.
Once settled in the living room with our pizza, Eric and I watched the news and weather report. I loved that even though our evenings weren’t always with Tessa, I got to see her anyway.
A few hours later, Eric went to bed, and she came out to the kitchen where I was tidying up. She smiled at me. “Pizza night, huh? You deserve it. You’ve been cooking every night. Thanks for waiting for me and saving some.”
“I’ll always wait for you,” I murmured just before I bent to kiss her.