Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I’m glad he’s gone. I don’t want to see him again.
Katie frowns, but before she can turn me down, I hold up my hand—while simultaneously doing my best to hide my rage.
“I promise I won’t let him out of my sight. We’ll be fine. Go get Miss Hazel’s medicine and let me do this one small thing. We may have issues, but you know I’d rather cut off my right hand than let anything happen to Lennon.”
She studies me, her eyes sad. “I know.” She leans down to kiss the top of Lennon’s head. “Just pick out one, mister. We’re on a budget here.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“I can see a line from here, but I’ll try to hurry,” she says, looking at me.
“We’re fine.” She smiles, although it doesn’t reach her eyes, and walks away.
I look down at Lennon and grin. “Have you ever gone shopping cart racing?”
His eyes get big, and I can read the excitement on his face. “No, how do we play?”
I pick him up and put him in the cart and watch as he settles on top of the clothes. “Hold on to the sides of the cart,” I instruct and watch as he reaches out with his tiny hands and grips the bright orange plastic of the shopping cart on each side.
“Now what?” he says, looking as if he’s about to shoot off into space.
I make a wide loop with the cart and turn us around. There’s an empty path back toward the clothes, and I grin. “Now,” I laugh, “we have fun!”
I take off jogging, and the cart picks up speed. Lennon’s giggles hit me, and the sweetness of them is hard to describe.
Once we get to the shirts, there are three that Lennon really likes. He stares at them like he’s contemplating the universe, and it makes me laugh. The kid even rubs his chin as he mulls it over.
“What are you thinking, buddy?”
“Well, I know Archer has this green one. So, I need to get that one because we want to wear the same one together,” he reasons like a grown-up, so serious that I just shake my head.
“Okay, what about the other two?”
“Well, what if I want to wear the blue one sometimes, Jake? Blue is my favorite color.”
I frown. “I thought green was your favorite color?”
“I like green, but I liked it because Gecko was green, but he’s got kind of boring.”
“Gecko? You have a pet gecko?” I ask. “That’s kind of cool.”
“No. Mommy says I can’t have pets until I can take care of them on my own. She said we might get a dog soon, but she wants one that doesn’t bother Grandma’s breathing.”
“What about a pony?”
“Mom says our barn must be fixed first. I want one though. I’d like a black and white one. I’d name him Speckles!” I grin. I want more time with Lennon.
I need it.
“Okay so let’s hold up for a second. Who has a gecko then if it’s not you?”
“Gecko is from PJ Masks! He fights crime. I used to like him. Now, I like Catboy.”
“Let me guess, Catboy is blue,” I respond, thinking I’m catching on to Lennon’s way of thinking.
“Yep! And he is cool! He has super-fast speed!”
“Well, that settles it buddy. You’ll have to get the blue one, too.”
“I will?”
“Well yeah. You’ll need the green one to wear with Archer and the blue one. That way you can wear it on days you want to be super-fast when playing at recess.”
“But Mommy said I could only get one,” he answers. “And I like all three. I can’t decide, Jake.”
It's heaven and hell when Lennon is talking to me. Heaven because this little kid is my son. He’s a part of me, and he’s funny and sweet. He fills parts of me that I didn’t realize were there. I don’t deserve to have him because I was an idiot, but now that I do, I’m not giving him up. It’s also hell spending this time with him because every time he calls me Jake, I want to tell him I’m his father. I want to tell him that I’ll always be here for him. That I will have his back in ways that my father never had mine.
“Okay, so I know why you want the blue and green shirts, but why do you want the purple one?”
“Well, it’s a hoodie, and I don't have one of those yet. Sometimes the classrooms can get cold—at least that’s what Archer says. He was in first grade last year. He got held back.”
“They held him back?” I ask, not sure I heard that right.
“School is hard, man,” Lennon says, deadly serious.
I let out a startled laugh that I try to cover with a cough. I’m not entirely sure that I’m successful because Lennon frowns at me. I scramble to erase that look off his face. The last thing I want is for Lennon to not like me. I have enough of a hill to climb where he’s concerned as it is.