“No, baby, I’m not sad,” I sniff.
“No sad?”
“No way, Jose.”
“Way Jose,” Peyton repeats, his eyes filled with worry for the pain he believes he’s inflicted on me. My beautiful little man. It’s surreal just how much children are attuned to emotions that adults pretend to be oblivious of. They’re the ones who deserve the title of hero, living bravely, taking chances, leaping before looking, letting their emotions through—the definition of living out loud. As for adults, the more we grow, the more we seem to hide ourselves, our emotions—and it’s considered an act of maturity. Seems to me it’s more of an act of cowardice. The truly brave are those who can love and live with the fearless heart of a child.
It’s then I decide my nephew is right and fully take his advice. Whatever happened back then truly is in the past, and in Eli’s case, my past with him hurt. It hurt so much. But the present?
I’m growing quite fond of the Eli Welch of the present.
“The past hurts, huh?” I sniff, marveling at my little man and his hammered in truth.
“Mep,” Peyton says, pat patting my face.
I can’t help my laugh as I shake my head. “Out of the mouth of babes.” I squeeze him as he tries to wiggle free. “I love you sooooo much, Pey Pey. So much. Forever and ever.”
“Soooo much,” he nods.
“Want to make Rudolph some cookies?”
“Mep.” He immediately leaps from my lap when I release him.
“Up?” I offer.
“I do it,” Peyton insists, heading for the door.
“Oh, please don’t claim your independence just yet, kid. I don’t think I can handle it today.”
“Comere,” he insists, already at the door. “We go. Mere!”
“Yes, sir,” I follow.
“Thanks so much for your help, man,” Thatch says as I tighten the last bolt with the Allen wrench.
“No problem,” I step back and admire my handy work on Gracie’s glittery neon pink bike. “They’re going to go nuts.”
“Hope so.” Thatch flashes me his first genuine smile since we hit the garage. When we started unloading the bike parts from the boxes, I tested the waters to see if he wanted to vent and carefully read the room. He didn’t. So, together we worked diligently, making small talk, and managed to get both bikes assembled in record time. I flick the fire-colored tassels on Peyton’s new tricycle as Thatch gathers the packaging and trashes it. “This is perfect. It suits him.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“Wonder what happened to Brenden,” I ask, eyeing the box sitting in the corner that holds Conner’s bike. “Should we get started without him?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Thatch grabs the box as Brenden enters the side door of the garage, and we both glance over to see him looking completely lost, his expression pained.
“Shit, what’s wrong?” Thatch asks.
“I’m an idiot,” Brenden mutters. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Brenden grabs the box from Thatch and rips it open, commercial staples and all, and Thatch’s eyes bulge.
“Dude,” Thatch steps forward and lays a hand on Brenden’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a breath. I don’t think the bike is safe from you right now. How about we step back a minute?”
“I’m good,” Brenden snaps, “let’s just get this done.”
“The fuck you are, you’re hulking out,” Thatch says, reaching for the box just as I step up to Brenden.
“Let me unpack it for you, all right?”
Brenden nods, relinquishing the box to me before running his hands through his hair, eyes glazing over.
“All right, man,” Thatch says, “it’s your turn. What’s going on?”
“My wife is fucking miserable in Charlotte. She’s miserable, and it’s my fault. I made the decision to start Networth and move us there without realizing how much it would affect her. That’s because I thought it’s just a drive, right? If she got homesick, we’d just drive to Nashville, and it would tide her over, but that’s not how it’s played out. While I’ve been obsessed with the startup, my wife has been at home crying. Alone, missing her parents, her friends, and I haven’t been there for her. She’s been hiding it from me. So yeah…fuck!” He picks up something within reach and tosses it across the garage before clasping his hands on top of his head. “I feel so fucking bad, and I have no idea how to remedy this.”