Hope for Us (Hope Series Book #3) (12 page)

Instead of crying, he yelled.

“You ruin everything. I don’t have a dad, and you don’t want me to have one. No one will tell me about my real dad and you won’t let Jackson be my dad. It’s not fair. I hate you.”

I stepped back and grabbed onto the table for support. Jack’s little checks puffed in and out. I knew he didn’t mean it, but it punched me in the chest anyway.

His eyes were wet, and he swiped at them before the tears fell.

He started wheezing a little at first and I thought he would breathe through it, but it deteriorated quick. His eyes showed panic right before a full-on asthma attack. Alarm bells started going off in my head.

I grabbed one of his inhalers out of the cabinet. I pulled him toward me as I sat at the kitchen table. He leaned up against my leg while I took the top off the inhaler. I reminded myself to stay calm and neutral. If I panicked, then he would panic and it would get bad quick.

I shook his inhaler, held it up. He put his mouth on it, and I squeezed twice.

“Breathe,” I said while placing my other hand on his chest to encourage him to calm down.

I waited a minute, and he wheezed another breath.

“One more?”

He nodded his head, opened his mouth, and I pumped twice.

“Breathe.”

That puff did it. His heart stopped racing and his eyes returned to normal size. I rubbed circles on his chest and took deep breaths with him.

“Okay.”

He shook his head.

“Why don’t you go lie down and finish watching the game?”

He shook his head and went to lie down on the couch.

I stayed seated at the kitchen table willing myself not to cry. Sadness overtook my senses. I wanted to crawl under the covers in my room and not come out for, I don’t know, maybe five years.

My therapist diagnosed it as a form of depression. When I found myself in situations I needed to control and be strong for, once it was over, crisis averted, my mind shut down; my mind’s own version of fight, then flight.

I shook it off, went to the couch, and laid down on the other end.

I spent so much time in this state of avoiding catastrophe. It exhausted me.

Jack wheezed and I sat up, ready for action. His steady breathing continued, so I relaxed. I lay back down and cried into the couch cushion until the FSU game lulled me to sleep.

Jackson was mad at me.

Kayla was pissed at me.

Jack hated me, too.

I’d hit the trifecta.

I pissed off everyone lately.

Jack woke me up and apologized an hour later, but when I asked him if he wanted to watch the game together the next day, he asked if he could go across the street and watch it with his friend, Blake. I said yes and tried to hide my disappointment.

Monday morning, Kayla avoided my calls and Jack spoke to me in one-word sentences. I was on everyone’s shit list, . . . except Mr. Griffin.

I finished my to-do list at the office early and packed up to head home. A ding on my computer alerted me to a message. Mr. Griffin’s assistant, Ashlei, sent the itinerary for the Griffin Men’s Annual Hunting Trip. He had mentioned it to me a few times over the last few months. 

The trip was scheduled for three days in November in New Jersey, the same weekend the Cardinals played in The Meadowlands. I dialed his number, stood up and stared out the window at the Cardinals facility in the distance.

“Carrington Olivia Butler, I was wondering when you were going to stop avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, Mr. Griffin. I have been busy. I am raising your grandson, after all.”

He chuckled. He loved it when I refer to Jack as his grandson. Like me declaring it, made it all the more real.

“Yep. You are and doing a fine job of it, too.”

“Thank you.” I placed my hand on the glass warmed by the direct sunlight.

I grew to understand Mr. Griffin better over the years. His ignorance stemmed from his upbringing and from his anger at not living the life he wanted to live. I compared the Griffins to an old English aristocratic family. In 1908 England, Mr. Griffin would be a duke or a lord or something. He would have arranged for his son to marry the daughter of the king. The two families would have joined and become one big stuffy boring powerful family. Mr. Griffin would also have cut the heads off a few of his wives by now.

A black girl with a bastard son would not have been allowed in the manor.

Mr. Griffin divorced his third wife shortly after his son died. I wondered if he dated or had a girlfriend. He would be a good catch because he had more money than he knew what to do with. And, dare I say it,
he was a nice guy.

In seven years, he had not done one thing that would make me doubt his word or mistrust him. So, why did I find it difficult to let him spend time with Jack alone?

Jack adored him. They had these weekly video calls and although I leave them alone, I hear them laughing and joking. I encouraged their relationship, but I couldn’t help think it would only take one time for him to do something and devastate our world. He held too much power over my life at the beginning, and as the years passed and I became more successful, I had finally taken back a little of that power.

I have a great job, even though it took me away from my son more than I would like. His father’s money paid for the big stuff, but only because it allowed me to get closer to my goal of not being dependent on anyone.

Jack understood the concept of money, but he never had the chance to live in that world without my supervision, yet. That was why this hunting trip scared the hell out of me.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m good.”

“And Jackson. How is Mr. Mitchell?”

I smiled before I could stop myself. An image of Jackson popped in my head from the day we met. The last time that seeing him didn’t give me an anxiety attack. We went from flirting, to avoiding each other, to stealing moments if only for a quick conversation. For a year and a half, I knew I could count on him for anything. Even in the last six years, in the back of my head, I figured if I really needed him, all I had to do was call. Now, I wasn’t sure he would even take my call.  My insides went cold.

“He’s fine. I guess.”

“You guess? I figured the two of you would be rekindling your romance. Now that you’re in the same city.”

“Uh, no.” I shook my head and sat down on the corner of my desk. “Jack is excited to see him more often.”

“Yes, I’ve heard." Mr. Griffin chuckled. “Now, you’re not still mad at Jackson?”

“No, I’m not mad.” I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying any more. That paranoid feeling crept into my brain and gave me a chill. The Griffin’s, all of them, even Kayla and even Jack, had a way of knowing my feeling before I was ready to admit them. It freaked me out. “Mr. Griffin, seriously, I am not talking about Jackson with you. It made me uncomfortable six year ago, and it hasn’t gotten any easier now.”

“And here I thought we had become friends.”

“We aren’t friends.” Silence filled the phone line. “I mean, not exactly. I think of you more like a distance rich uncle type figure.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.” He grunted.

I winced.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“Ashlei sent me an email about the hunting trip."

"What do you think?”

“Don’t you think Jack’s a little too young to be killing animals with a gun?”

“I’m not going to let him kill any animals.”

“Oh.”

“He can watch me kill some.”

“Oh, I feel much better.”

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but Jack needs to spend some time with some men doing man things.” His joking tone made me smile.

“Mr. Griffin, it’s not like I’ve enrolled Jack into ballet classes.”

“I know. He is quite manly considering . . .”

I waited for him to finish the sentence, but he didn’t. I let it go.

“Is it me? You’re afraid for me to be alone with him for an extend period of time.”

“Not exactly.”

“Because we won’t be alone. Kayla’s father and brothers are coming. You trust them.”

“I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt Jack.”

“Do you?”

“It sounds logical when I say it out loud.”

“Well, listen to yourself. I love your son more than any other person in this world. It’s a Griffin tradition we lost sight of a long time ago, and I want to renew it with my grandson.”

I tried to think of an argument, an opposing view. I was a lawyer, I found counter arguments all day long.

My mind went blank.

“I’m not saying no.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I guess that’s all I can hope for at this point.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know soon. I promise.”

“Okay. So you need anything? You guys have everything you need?”

“We are fine.”

“Okay, well tell Jackson I said hello and I am looking into coming down for at least one game this season.”

“Well, you’ll be here anyway in January for the National Championship game.” I said and laughed. The college championship game would be played in Arizona at the end of the year and although the Seminoles hadn’t made it back to the game since Jackson’s sophomore year, us true fans always held out hope.

“You are right about that.” He chuckled. “Go ‘Noles!”

“Go ‘Noles.”

I hung up the phone and sat behind my desk. I opened my computer screen and looked at the itinerary for the hunting trip. I hit the reply button and started typing that I would let Jack attend, but I couldn’t hit send. Not yet.

I pulled up another screen and googled
Jackson Mitchell
. When the results came up, I hit images and scanned the photos. It showed a ton of photos from the last few games. He looked good in Cardinals red. I scrolled through and stopped on a photo of him talking to some kids. I clicked on the photos from the Manning Passing Academy. Jackson returned to the camp every year.

If I needed a father figure for my son, I didn’t need to look any further.

The man will make a great husband, too.

I shut the computer screen and looked around.

I didn’t say that out loud, did I?

I laid my head on my desk and tried to get the thought of Jackson Mitchell waiting at the end of an aisle, out of my head.

I received a couple of calls and text messages from Jack, but didn’t call him back. I wondered what Carrington told him about the game, about us. I convinced myself I was giving Carrington some time to handle it. I didn’t know why they couldn’t come and didn’t have an answer for him, so I stayed away and stayed busy.

I had not spoken to Carrington since that night I left her house. She sent me a couple of good luck texts, which I ignored. Well, not really ignored. I smiled whenever her name flash on my phone. My heart raced and I couldn’t wait to unlock the screen and read the text, but then I remembered that we weren’t together and it wouldn’t be something sexy or even sweet. It would be generic and emotionless and it would break my heart all over again. Then it would take me twenty minutes to talk myself down from the edge.

Once again, football was my saving grace.

I studied film in one of the meeting rooms when an assistant stuck his head in the door.

“J, there’s someone up front to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“I’m not sure, but Margie said you need to come up there.”

I looked at my phone. I had thirty minutes before I needed to suit up for practice. I shut off the screen and pushed my chair back. I grabbed my bag and headed to the reception desk. I rounded the corner and Margie got up from the desk and stopped me before I could come out into the lobby.

“Hey Margie, they told me someone was here to see me.”

“Hi Jackson, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy. Normally, I would have sent them on their way, but they rode up here on bikes and seemed a little young to be on their own.” I peeked around the corner and saw Jack flanked by two boys talking and staring at the Cardinals memorabilia hanging on the wall.

“Plus the little one insisted you two were related.”

I watched Jack for a minute.

“Okay, so after Jackson comes and gets us, we can stand on the sidelines and watch practice and then play catch with him after,” Jack said.

“What’s taking them so long? Oh, man. We are going to get thrown out of here.”

“It’s a big place. Don’t worry. He’ll be out soon.”

“I bet you’re lying. You don’t know Jackson Mitchell,” the bigger kid said.

“Where do you think I got my name from?”

“Your name is Jack.”

“My real name is Jackson David Butler. I’ve known Jackson since I was born.” He emphasized the Jackson part of his full name.

“We should go,” the little one said with a whimper.

“Fine, go if you want to. You’re going to miss out on the best time ever.”

When did my godson become such a little shit?

“Don’t worry about it, Margie. I’ll take care of it.”

I walked out to the lobby.

“Jack, what are you doing here?”

He turned to the two kids and gestured as if to say, I told you so. He walked over to me and hugged me and I patted him on the back.

“How did you guys get up here?”

“We rode our bikes,” the tallest kid said.

“Jack made us come. He said we could watch practice.” The little one chimed in.

“I wanted to show them the practice facility," Jack said.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” I asked Jack.

His head bowed. “No,” he whispered.

I watched the weight of what he’d done descend on him all at once and his lip quivered and his shoulders fell.

“Listen, you two have a seat and don’t move until I return.” I turned to Jack. “You come with me.”

I walked toward the hallway, and he followed. “Margie, I’m going to call his mother. Keep an eye on those two and send her back when she arrives.”

“Of course.”

“You heard the man. Have a seat.” Margie said to the two kids as they crapped in their pants at her tone and sat down. I smiled but wiped it off my face. As funny as this was, if my dad had caught me doing something so stupid, he would have reamed me out and I would have been grounded for a week. They had to cross at least two major intersections to ride their bike from Jack’s school to get here. I opened the door to the meeting room, and Jack stopped and looked up at me. I maintained my best stern expression and motioned for him to enter and sit down.

“I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to call your mother.”

She didn’t answer until the fourth ring.

“Hi, Jackson.”

Her voice sounded low and sad like she contemplated not answering, but then gave in at the last minute and now she regretted it.

“Hi, Carrington.” I got right to the point.  “Jack showed up at the practice facility.”

“Excuse me.”

“Jackson showed up here. He talked two kids from his school into coming with him and he’s here now.”

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up before I could say another thing.

It wouldn’t take her long to get here.

I waited a few minutes and let Jack stew over what he had done.

When I walked into the room, he opened his mouth to talk, but I shushed him.

“Jackson, do you understand how dangerous it is for you to be riding your bike on busy streets? You are eight years old; you are not supposed to ride off your street, especially unsupervised. What if something happened? What if you had gotten hurt or worse? Can you imagine what that would do to your mother?”

Silent tears started falling down his cheeks, and I weakened.

“Why would you do something like this?”

“Because I wanted to see you, and Mom said I couldn’t.”

“Jack-” I sat down.

“No, it’s not fair. You guys don’t like each other anymore and so I can’t hang out with you. It’s not fair.”

“Did she say we couldn’t hang out anymore?”

“No, but she gets sad whenever I say your name. She’s mad at you and taking it out on me and it’s not fair. She’s just being mean.”

“Jackson David, don’t talk about your mother like that. You have no idea what she went through bringing you into this world. I’m not going to sit here and let you disrespect her.”

As I spoke, I remained calm but firm. Tears flowed down his face. I changed my facial expressions.

“Jack, come here.” He stood up and fell into my arms. I hugged him to my chest and waited for him to stop crying. It made me want to call my father and apologize for every stupid thing I ever did. Yelling at Jack, I felt as bad as he sounded.

When his tears subsided, I stood him up while I remained seated.

“Jack, I’ve known your mother a long time and you are the most important person in her life. She has sacrificed a lot in order for you to have everything you have. She knows what’s best for you. I promise that no matter what happens between your mom and me, I will always be a part of your life. But you have got to give your mom a break, okay? She needs you to be a little understanding right now.”

He nodded his head and rubs his eyes.

We both turned toward the door and watched as Carrington stood in the doorway leaning in. 

Her eyebrows rose and she surveyed the room as she walked around the perimeter of the room. Her eyes focused on me. Her lips parted slightly as if ready to say something, but she smirked instead and turned her attention to Jack.

“Jack, come on. Let’s go home.”

I stood up and Jack walked with his head down past Carrington and into the hall.

As I passed her, she reached out and touched my forearm.

“Thanks for calling me.”

I stopped in front of her. I cleared my throat and stared as she gnawed on her lip and smiled up at me. We stared at each other for a moment, but she broke the spell when she turned and headed down the hall after Jack.

“Of course," I whispered and followed her wonder what that was all about. 

“Blake, Stephen, let’s go.” They both looked at Margie, who nodded, and they stood up.

They all filed out of the building single file. I brought up the rear. We walked over to Carrington’s car and the three boys climbed into the backseat.

“Don’t worry about their bikes. I’ll bring them over after practice.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at me.

I searched her face trying to translate the look she gave me.

She looked at me like she’d never seen me before.