Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The role of a ship’s engineer is the one I gravitate most toward. None of us works without the other to get to our destination. We’re a team now.
“Hey, Beck, see the Cypress at the water’s edge? The biggest trees other than the oaks?”
“Yeah.”
“When I was traveling, it didn’t matter where I was, I could close my eyes, and I’d be flying off a rope swing into the river or climbing up the trunks and perching up on the branches for hours.” I glance at him. “I once fell asleep cradled in the legs of the roots. My parents couldn’t find me. Scared the living daylights out of them.”
“What happened?”
“The police were at the house when I showed up. I totally missed all the commotion. Those trees are home to me.”
“Was that a lesson I’m supposed to learn?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Nope. Just sharing a bit of my childhood with you, buddy.”
The relief of “not learning” creates a smile on his face. “Baylor always tries to wrap these big life lessons into his stories.”
“Ah.” I rest my arms on my legs when I lean forward. “I get it.” I didn’t take my brother as the purveyor of deep truths, but like the rest of us, he’s changed, and good for him for helping our nephew. “Do you like baseball?”
“I’m going back to soccer. Everyone here is too intense about the sports they played. I just want to play for fun.”
I start to chuckle again. “Yeah, we take our sports seriously around here.” I don’t know why I’m about to ask, except that I’ll get an unbiased opinion, because if this kid is one thing, it’s honest to a fault. “Jacob’s a cute kid, huh? I was thinking about asking his mom if we could host his birthday party at the ranch.” His silence draws my attention to him. “What’s up?”
He looks at me, but then his gaze goes to his shoes. “I overheard Grandpa saying that’s a Greene if he ever saw one.” Guess letting it drop did us no favors. It only allowed their imaginations to fill in the blanks. “Is Jacob a Greene?”
Beckett is a Grange after his dad, my sister being his stepmom, but he’s a Greene in the ways that run deeper than blood. Like the rest of them, though, he’s not dumb. How do I answer this without starting a field day of family nonsense I’m not ready to address? “He’s . . .”
“Is he your son?”
“Yes.” My response isn’t rushed, but I don’t want to beat around the bush. “Jacob’s my son.”
“Why doesn’t everyone know? Why didn’t you tell them?”
The details of the story aren’t meant for a kid his age. It’s not something I need to put into his head or have him asking more questions than are necessary. “I need a little time to work through a few things before telling the family. Can you keep this conversation between us?” I hold out my hand for a fist bump.
He bumps right back. “Yep.” After sipping on his water, he says, “It’s Daisy. She was the giveaway. They do look like twins.” He takes another chug and then caps the bottle again. “She’ll like having him around.”
“Instead of following you everywhere?”
“We have fun sometimes, but I want to do dude stuff, too.”
“Dude stuff” makes me want to grin, but I don’t because I want to be a trusted sounding board for him. We all need that, and sometimes he won’t want to talk to his dad. “Is that why you wanted to get dropped off here after school?”
“Yeah.”
I tap the toe of my boots against his sneaker. “You can come over anytime.” Standing, I take another long drink of water. I look at the pile of wood I bought a few days ago, which hasn’t gotten smaller despite my progress. “Want to help me replace a few more boards, or are you ready to go home?”
“Home. It’s too hot out here.”
Yep, honest to a fault. “Wait until summer.” We start down the steps to the truck. “I’ll take you home, kid.”
Trailing me, he says, “You didn’t ask, but I figure I’d tell you since I got a good sense of the situation.”
I lean against the driver’s side of the front of my truck to look back at him. “What situation is that?”
“Christine says I have a knack for seeing situations for what they are instead of the front people put on. I called it with her and my dad before they knew they were meant to be together. Lauralee and Baylor were too easy to predict. They were the worst at hiding their feelings. Basically, they couldn’t.”
My jaw has dropped. “You have a sixth sense for predicting relationships?”
Raising his hands, he says, “I don’t question my gifts. But I will tell ya . . .” He stops to put his weight against the truck as he looks at me just over the top. It’s a big truck.