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“Yeah, Dad. Sunday said if I needed anything, to text her and she’d take care of it so you can focus on the game.”
“She did, huh?” I tease, loving how she mothers him.
“Did you see this hat? When she found out Timmers used to call me Dustman, she said she went online and found this for me because it would’ve made him laugh. I think she’s right, don’t you?”
I look at what he’s wearing and chuckle. She found him a Pigpen hat with dust motes floating all over it, reminiscent of Timmers’ nickname for my boy, Dustman. “It’s perfect, little man.”
“Yeah, now go win, Dad!”
* * *
“He would’ve loved this,”Collins says as we watch the team celebrate on the field after winning the game. In addition to the players, the parents are out there, as well as the other team, who have been congratulating each one of the boys.
“Still kind of shocked we pulled it off,” I murmur, my mind replaying the game. We were behind at half time, then when the game picked back up again, and the announcer mentioned that so far, over five thousand dollars had been collected for Timmers’ family, the tide changed in our favor. The Falls Ridge Red Devils fumbled twice, which we recovered the ball, and ran in gaining touchdowns, then their quarterback, who has the best accuracy in the state with respect to completions, lack of interceptions thrown, and overall yardage, threw an interception which put us over the top.
“Not sure why, Coach. We’ve taught them to take advantage of missteps, which they did.”
“I know, but even though Iamproud as hell of all of them since the accident, you know good and well they’ve been all over the place during practice,” I retort.
“Maybe so, but regardless, we’re state champions, and I know we worked hard to get here.”
“You’re right. I’m going to see if I can find Sunday so we can get Dusty home.”
I walk off the field while the kids and parents continue to celebrate, and head toward the concession stand because that’s where she said she was going earlier. When I see her standing up ahead of me, her arms moving wildly while her body is tense, I take a closer look at who she’s talking to and feel my blood freeze in my veins.
Stacey.
My strides lengthen as I get to where they’re standing only to hear Stacey insist, “I need to see my son.”
“No. Absolutely not,” I state, my voice short and clipped. “You have no business even being here, Stacey. What the hell are you thinking?”
She turns her tear-streaked face toward me and replies, “It’s my fault Dusty almost died, and the other kid did. I wanted to pay my respects.”
“The time to do that was at the funeral for Michael,” I retort. “Andmy sondoesn’t want to see you. Do you know he was blaming himself for the fucking accident? Because you’re his birth mother.”
“That sounds so harsh, Jett,” she sneers.
“As far as he’s concerned, that’s what you are, Stace,” I reply. “Sunday has been more of a mother to him in the short time we’ve been together than you’ve been his entire life. What does that say about you?”
She glares at Sunday, and I see her open her mouth, likely to say something scathing and mean so I throw up my hand nipping that in the bud before she has a chance to spread her venom. “No. You don’t talk to her, you don’t talk to Dusty. In fact, you should be getting paperwork from my attorney at any time.”
“For what?”
“To terminate your parental rights. It’s what he wants, and I try to give him that whenever possible within reason. This definitely falls under that umbrella as far as I’m concerned. Now, leave. Because trust me, the Timmers don’t need to see you walking around as though you don’t have a care in the world.”
“He wants that?” she whispers.
“Yes, he does,” Sunday replies. “And I agree with Jett. Michael’s family doesn’t need to see you here, Stacey. You need to leave.”
Surprisingly, where she was all set to argue with me, once Sunday says her piece, she turns on her heel and leaves.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get our boy and head home.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I have a special celebration in mind for you,” she teases, winking at me.
My laughter rings out as we walk back down the track to where Dusty is being pushed toward us by Collins.
ChapterSeventeen
