* * *
Sam cries a lot when I tell her what happened. Which isn’t saying much—she cries at just about everything these days, the pregnancy hormones making her much more emotional than usual. “I can’t believe he would think we don’t want him here,” she sobs against my chest.
“I think it’s normal to get nervous when big things change. I’m just glad he told me about it.”
She looks up at me, eyes shining with tears. “You handled it so well.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“He knows you love him, Cash. He knows we want him. He felt safe enough to tell you. That’s all that matters.”
We call Wyatt down a few minutes later, once Sam has mostly stopped crying. He won’t meet our gaze. “Okay, Wyatt,” she tells him. “There’s going to be consequences for what happened today. Throwing rocks is a big deal. So is breaking someone else’s property. We can’t just ignore that.”
“I know,” he whispers, eyes still on the floor.
“But we also know you’ve been having a hard time,” I continue, hunching over so I’m on his eye level. “So for tonight we’re just going to spend time together and enjoy being a family. We can talk about consequences tomorrow.”
He looks up, his eyes bright. “Really?”
“Really,” Sam says, before trying to put on her strict mom face, in spite of the fact that she’s still pretty weepy. “But there will be consequences.”
“Yeah,” I tell him, reaching out to mess up his hair. “You’re not totally off the hook here, man.”
He grins up at me and I have to grin back at the expression on his face. Maybe it makes me totally immature, but I don’t care—I had missed him looking at me this way. Like he thinks I’m the coolest thing ever. It’s the way he always used to look at me, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it over the last few months.
“Hero status reconfirmed,” Sam mutters, and I laugh, wrapping an arm around her to pull her close, knowing I have everything in this room that I’ll ever need.
We order pizza and eat on the floor of the living room, taking turns playing Killer Zombies Three, Wyatt beating us both easily. After we eat, Sam needs to lie down for a few minutes—she’s at a stage of her pregnancy where every food sets off heartburn. Pepperoni had probably been a bad choice. So I take Wyatt over to the piano and teach him a few simple songs, trying not to grumble about it, even if guitar is obviously much cooler. The kid is showing some real talent on the thing, so I guess I need to just accept it. “Maybe it’s time we start you on some real lessons,” I tell him, and even I have to smile at the excitement on his face. “God,” I add. “Daltrey is going to be insufferable when he hears this.”
When Sam is feeling better we join her in the living room. I sit next to her on the couch, pulling her feet up into my lap to rub them. Wyatt snuggles in on my other side and we talk—really talk, for the first time as a trio—about the baby. About what our life might look like, splitting time between Seattle and LA and wherever we might tour. About things we’ll do as a family, places we want to visit, stuff we’ll teach the baby. We wonder aloud about what he or she will be like, whether they’ll be into soccer (Wyatt seems aghast at the very suggestion that they wouldn’t), if they’ll hate peas like I do or if they’ll love watermelon as much as Sam and Wyatt.
“We’re going to need a name,” Sam says, nudging Wyatt with her foot. “Any ideas?”
He rolls his eyes at me and I bite back a laugh. “It would be a lot easier if you’d find out the gender, Mom.”
Sam looks at me. “I wonder if that sassy tone comes from him approaching the teenage years or from spending too much time with you.”
“I’d put money on my influence,” I tell her. “I was a pretty terrible teenager. I probably should have warned you.”
She kisses me. “Guess we’re stuck with you now.”
I look over to Wyatt. “Think we can convince her to open the envelope if we both team up on her?”
His grin is mischievous. “I bet we could if we really tried.”
Sam laughs. “Honestly, I’ve been ready to find out for weeks now.”
“Are you serious?” I cry. “You mean I could’ve convinced you already if I tried?”
“Pretty much. I just didn’t want to let you win.”
“Well what are we waiting for?” Wyatt yells. “Go get it!”
I dash up the stairs to our room and find the envelope in her bedside drawer. I can’t believe we’re actually about to find out the sex of our baby. It all suddenly feels less surreal—something about having that discussion about the baby with Wyatt makes it real in a way it hasn’t been before now. And it surprises me how okay I feel—fear is the farthest thing from my mind.
I bring the envelope down to Sam and Wyatt and we stare at it for a long moment. “Who’s doing this?” I ask, looking between the two.
“Let Wyatt,” Sam says, grinning at him.
His eyes are wide as he takes the envelope from me. “Should we make predictions?” I ask.
“Let’s just do it,” Sam argues. “The suspense is killing me!”
“So I shouldn’t go really slow?” Wyatt asks, grinning.
“Open the damn envelope, kid,” I say.
“Language,” Wyatt chides.
“Wyatt!” Sam yells. “Stop stalling!”
He laughs, ripping open the envelope. We watch as his eyes scan the paper, his smile growing. Then he looks up at us, his eyes huge in his face. “A boy,” he says. “We’re having a boy.”
Sam immediately bursts into tears. “A brother,” she says, not even bothering to wipe her eyes. “Wyatt, you’re going to have a brother!”
He rolls his eyes at me, probably in response to her tears, but I’m too overwhelmed to join in. A boy. We’re going to have a boy. A brother for Wyatt. A son for Sam and me.
Wyatt laughs, pointing at me. “Oh my, God,” he says. “You’re going to cry, too, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” I tell him, laughing through my tears as I reach for him.
“I’m so going to rag on you for this,” he says against my shoulder as I hug him tight. I look at Sam over his head. “Get over here, weepy.”
She throws her arms around us and I hold both of them as tight as I can, ignoring Wyatt when he complains that he can’t breathe. “Another Ransome boy,” Sam says, crying some more.
“Just what the world needs.”
“It’s exactly what the world needs,” she says, wiping tears from my eyes.
“Will you guys stop crying?” Wyatt asks, pulling out of our embrace. “I’m embarrassed for you.”
“This is a big moment,” Sam says. “It’s okay to cry during big moments.”
“Not if you’re a rock star,” Wyatt says, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m totally telling Daltrey about this.”
“We can’t all be as cool as you, buddy.” He grins at that. “Okay. We know it’s a boy. Now we need a name.”
“Are we continuing the tradition of rock legend?” Sam asks. “I kind of like Dylan.”
I look over at Wyatt, seeing that his grin has faded. “I don’t know,” I say, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I think it’s time to start some new traditions. Maybe something that starts with a W? So that he matches his brother.”
That sends Sam into fresh tears but Wyatt is smiling again, in a sheepish sort of way, so my instinct to shift the conversation away from anything that might make him feel separate from this baby was correct.
“W names,” Sam says, sniffling. “Hmm. Wesley?”
“No,” Wyatt says firmly. “Wesley Kincaid was a kid in my class last year and he was a major jerk face.”
“Not Wesley, then,” I agree. “We don’t want any jerk faces around here. Wally?”
Sam scrunches up her nose. “Walt?”
“Walt sounds like someone’s grandpa,” Wyatt says, and I laugh. He kind of has a point.
Sam pulls out her phone and
taps away at the screen. “Let’s see. W names…Ward, Warren, Wolf, Wayne, Wendell, Westin, William—”
“Hey!” Wyatt says. “My favorite soccer player is named William! William Coates. He plays for the US Men’s Team.” His face takes on the eager, bright expression he wears whenever him and Sam start geeking out about soccer. “Remember, Mom? He led the team in pass percentage success and assists last year. We saw him play in that friendly that Cash took us to and he was amazing. We should totally name the baby William.”
Sam meets my gaze, her eyes wide and questioning. Though he’s met my dad a bunch of times, Wyatt isn’t making the connection in his soccer excitement. I think about what that would mean, to name the baby William. Will. Just like my dad. Do I want to do that? Do I want to honor him that way? Things have been complicated between us for months now. Our relationship will probably never be quite the way it was before.
But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. I think about how he’s been these last two weeks, at the hospital with Reed. How supportive he’s been. How strong and steady. Just like he always was when we were kids. But how different it’s been, too, because now he seems determined to be more open, to tell us how he feels. To show us affection in ways that have nothing to do with our music.
And then I think about how he was that morning after my last meltdown. How he came to get me, no questions asked, even after I’d been shutting him out. How firm he had been in his certainty that I could do this, that I could be a father. I think of the words I had just repeated to myself that afternoon. That’s really all you need…Loyalty, love. A little patience. Those words had been freeing to me as I hugged Wyatt, making me feel sure, for the first time, that I could do that, be that for the new baby, because I was already doing it for Wyatt.
The kid is watching me, his expression hopeful. “You know,” I remind him, “Will is my dad’s name.”
His eyes widen. “Oh, yeah! I forgot. Well, that makes it extra good, right?”
I look at Sam and her eyes are teary yet again. “I can’t think of a better example of dedication,” she says. “That sounds like something worth honoring with our son’s name.”
It’s true. There’s no one who exemplifies dedication more than my dad, no matter what his flaws might be. He was there for us, through everything. Sacrificing everything, always, for his boys. My kids would be lucky if I turned out to be half the man my father is.
“I think Will is great,” I say, and it feels right when I say it. Wyatt and Will. My boys.
“Sweet!” Wyatt says. Sam, naturally, starts crying again. I laugh as I pull her into a hug and Wyatt rolls his eyes again. “Mom. Can’t you chill?”
“Get over here,” I say, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close so we can both wrap an arm around him. “This is a family hug.”
He doesn’t complain at all or tease his mom any more. He just hugs us back, his fingers tight against my waist, his face buried in my shirt. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking just what I am—that this little family of ours is pretty amazing. And I hope he knows, just like I do, that we’re exactly where we were always meant to be.
Lennon
Reed,” Cash says, in an overly concerned voice. “You haven’t checked your phone in two whole minutes. What if you missed something?”
Reed glares at him. “Do not start with me.”
Cash holds up his hands. “I’m serious! It’s not like she has Daisy and Karen and Sam with her—”
Reed makes a noise very much like a growl and I can’t help but laugh. “I think we can cut our dear older brother a little slack,” I say. “Even though there’s no way in hell we’re ever going to get through this rehearsal if he doesn’t put his phone down.”
“It’s the first time I’ve been away from her since she got home,” Reed mutters.
“Which she told Daisy she was really excited about, by the way,” Daltrey says. “Apparently you’re driving her crazy.”
Reed turns his glare to Daltrey.
“Come on, man,” Cash says, handing him a beer. “She’s fine.”
Reed nods even as I see a familiar panic flare in his eyes. I have a feeling it will be quite a while before that look goes away completely. If it ever does.
Paige’s recovery has been seriously impressive. Even the doctors say so. Her memory is a little shaky, and she still has numbness in her legs, which makes it difficult for her to get around. She’s going to be starting physical therapy soon, and the doctors seem pretty confident it will go away. All in all, she’s very lucky to have no other lasting effects from the illness. Especially when you consider everything that could have happened.
“Taking another break?” Dad asks from the doorway to our rehearsal space. I turn to look at my brothers, grinning at the familiar, slightly disapproving tone of his voice.
“God, I missed that,” Cash says, laughing.
“Yeah, Dad,” Daltrey agrees. “It only took you, what?” he glances down at his watch. “An hour to get right back to normal and start barking at us?”
Dad scowls. “I was just checking in.”
“Sure,” Reed says, smirking. “Hey, how’s the groveling going?”
Dad’s scowl deepens. “Just play your damn instruments,” he says, turning to stomp away while Reed laughs.
“He’s pretty stompy, isn’t he?” Daltrey asks after he’s gone.
I turn to Reed. “What did you mean about groveling?”
“Apparently Ruby is mad at him,” Reed says.
“Why?” Cash asks, eyes widening in interest. Such a gossip.
“Why do you think?” Reed makes a waving motion toward the space our father had just occupied, as if to encompass everything about the man. “He’s Dad.”
“Poor girl,” Daltrey says, sighing.
“Actually, I had an idea about this,” Reed says, glancing quickly at his phone as if out of habit. “You know she owns some bar, right?”
“Right,” Cash says.
Reed grins. “Well, I asked Levi about it. Apparently they play live music a few nights a week.”
Cash’s eyebrows go up. “Yeah?”
Reed’s grin deepens and I know just where he’s going with this. “Yeah,” he says, eyes shining with mischief. “And Paige has been bugging me to take her out soon…”
* * *
Two nights later our van pulls up to the curb in front of Dad’s condo. I look from Cash to Reed to Daltrey. “So. Who’s actually doing this?”
“I volunteer you, Len,” Cash says.
“Why me? This was Reed’s idea.”
“Yeah,” Cash says. “But you’re the favorite.”
I snort. “I am so not the favorite.”
“You are,” Cash says. “He never gets mad at you.”
“Reed is the favorite,” I shoot back.
“Except I’ve hardly talked to him for the past six months,” Reed argues.
“You’re all giant babies, you know that?” Sam asks. “Why are you so scared to tell him about this? I think it’s a great idea.”
I look at my brothers again. “I mean, he’s probably going to kill us.” They all nod.
“I could go,” Paige says. “He really likes me now, and I don’t think he’d try to kill me since I almost died, and all.”
Reed shudders at her words and Karen groans. “Paige.”
“You’re not going,” Reed growls.
“Yeah,” Cash agrees. “We might be wusses but we’re not going to sacrifice you, Paige.” He turns to Daltrey. “You should go.”
“I’m definitely not the favorite.”
“Come on, you gave him the first grandchild.”
“Oh my God,” Daisy says. “You’re all ridiculous.” Then she grins. “Besides, it’s obvious Levi is the favorite.”
We all turn to him. “You know what, she has a point,” Cash mutters.
“I’ll go,” I say, reaching for the door.
Reed sighs. “I’ll come too.”
In the end, all four of
us go, leaving Levi and the girls in the van. “This way we can carry him if he puts up a fight,” Cash says, leading the way to our dad’s door. It strikes me that he’s the only one of us who’s ever been here. I don’t like the thought. But we’re fixing it now, I remind myself. We’re fixing a lot of things.
Dad’s mouth drops open in surprise when he comes to the door and sees us. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” Cash says. “We thought you might want to come out to dinner with us, hang out for a while.”
Dad’s face lights up and I feel another guilty pang. “Dinner sounds good.”
“Excellent,” Daltrey says. “We got a driver so we can get a few drinks. And the girls are here, too. And Levi.”
“Let me just grab my wallet.” Dad opens the door so we can follow him into the condo. I’m surprised to see pictures hanging on the wall, actual books on the shelves. This place looks a hell of a lot more homey than the last apartment he’d rented. He’d barely unpacked the boxes there, too busy working to spend much time at home.
“Guys,” Cash mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We didn’t actually tell him where we’re going.”
Daltrey shrugs. “Maybe it’s better to just show up there? I mean, he probably won’t freak out in front of the girls and the driver, right?”
We all give him disbelieving looks. Like an audience would stop our dad if he feels like being pissed about this. But then he’s returning, wallet in hand, and I can see my brothers straightening, struggling to look casual.
“So,” Cash says, his voice a shade too bright. “Let’s get going.”
We all climb back into the van, Dad greeting the others. Levi told us the bar is close enough to his condo to walk, but that’s a bit much for Paige right now. The driver sets off down the street and after only a block or two, I can see Dad’s face change, his eyebrows coming together in suspicion. “Boys?”
“We heard about this bar,” Cash begins, sounding slightly hysterical. “They have live music tonight. Supposed to be pretty fun. So, yeah. We thought we’d try it.”
Dad’s eyes are narrowed on Cash’s face. “You’re a terrible liar.”
The Ransome Brothers Page 33