“Apparently I’m rustier than I thought.”
“Better for me. I can’t play with Uncle Hank. Heneverloses and Dad is worse than you.”
“Which one?” I ask before I can stop myself, but Briggs just smiles.
“Tanner is Dad and Otto isMy Ottounless I’m with him and Mom. Then I usually call him Dad too.” He throws his first horseshoe and giggles. “If you marry Dad—not Otto,”—he looks at me from the corner of his eye before continuing—“then I’ll havethreedads.”
“That would be something,” I reply, trying like hell to keep my voice carefully neutral as I throw my first shoe and watch it overshoot the pit. “What do you think about it?”
“It’s cool.” He nods and makes his next throw, the damn thing wrapping around the stake while Briggs pumps his fist like he’s some horseshoe shark. “Dad’s happy. Mom’s happy that Dad’s happy. And Otto is happy that everyone is happy.”
I chuff out a laugh but I don’t think he’s too far off. Otto Thayer does everything big—especially when it comes to loving his family.
“Your family seems pretty cool.”
“And weird,” he huffs as I take my turn and watch the horseshoe land in the pit but not close enough to the stake to earn me any points.
“Everyone is weird,” I tell him as he makes another great throw that convinces me I’ll never win a round, let alone a whole game.
“Did you see your family today?”
“My brother, his girlfriend, and my niece, yes.”
“Where are your parents?” The question is delivered so casually it takes a few seconds for me to formulate a response.
“They died.”
“So, it’s just you and your brother?” he asks and I nod. His expression is thoughtful. “Is he nice?”
“He’s sort of like your Uncle Sorren—definitely nice, but most people think he’s grumpy.”
This gets a full-blown smile out of Briggs as we each take our turns and I continue to have my ass handed to me by a kid I could easily bench press.
“Do you miss your parents?”
“I do. They were really great.” Briggs doesn’t look up, instead studying the horseshoes in his hand. “Do you miss your mom and dad being together?”
Shaking his head, he chuckles and meets my gaze. “No, it feels like it’s always been this way. Our family is big and awesome now. It just makes me sad sometimes.”
“What makes you sad?” I’m careful not to look around the yard, this conversation feeling like maybe it was meant for someone else and honored that this little boy has chosen me in this moment.
“Mom thinks I’m sad I don’t get to see my grandma and grandpa.”
“Your dad’s parents?”
“Yeah. I’m not sad I don’t see them. I just don’t want them to be mean to Dad.” He looks nervous when he adds, “I’m not supposed to know.”
“Family is complicated sometimes.”
“But family is supposed to take care of each other, right?” This time his eyes are full of unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering as he tries to maintain his composure.
Dropping to one knee, I set my horseshoes on the ground and place my hands on his shoulders. “Yes. Family is supposed to take care of each other, but that doesn’t mean it’s not messy sometimes too.”
“Why am I supposed to love them if they don’t love Dad?”
The question is so earnest, and I know in my heart that Briggs has been carrying this around for a long time—like he grew up fast when no one was watching.
“I’m not your parents, but I don’t think you have to love anyone you don’t want to. You have to be polite maybe, but you’re a smart kid and I can see this is hurting you. But it’s a burden you don’t have to carry alone, all right?”
