Page 81 of Broken
Rebel had Ethan on his shoulders and was walking around on the grass pointing out different things. Gratitude had him taking a breath. He wasn’t alone, and he could do this.
“Thanks for your help,” Prescott said.
“I’ll follow you to the toy store. Then, we’ll teach Ethan how to play backyard ball.”
“Hurray!” Ethan exclaimed from Rebel’s shoulders.
“How are you making this look so easy?” Prescott asked as Rebel set Ethan down.
Ethan ran toward the parking lot. Prescott bolted after him, grabbing him before he got to the street.
Ethan started crying. “No! I want to run!”
“You can’t run into a parking lot. Cars are driving fast and we have to stop and look both ways.”
Ethan stared at him. “Mommy says look before running.”
“She’s right.” Prescott clasped his hand.
They stopped at a toy store where Ethan took full advantage of Prescott, but Prescott was happy to buy him a few presents. In the book section, he spotted an age-appropriate book about a dinosaur that dies and a different one about the death of a parent. That book was written for ages six and older, but Prescott needed help, so he grabbed them both.
As they waited in line, Prescott stared at the boatload of toys in the cart. “Is this bribery?” he asked Rebel.
Rebel chuckled. “You’re just doing something nice for him. Moving is stressful enough. Have you told him?”
“No,” Prescott replied.
“Hi, there,” the cashier said to Ethan. “You’re a cutie.” Then, she shifted her gaze at the men. “Your son is adorable.” She started scanning the toys.
“He’s my nephew,” Prescott said.
This was going to be his child… forever. This was the beginning of a lifelong relationship. He would be Ethan’s role model. Ethan would look to him on how to behave, how to speak, how to treat others.
I’m gonna mess this kid up.
“Sir, you can swipe or tap your card,” the cashier said.
I’m not qualified to be a parent.
“I got this.” Rebel held up his watch and the purchase got approved.
Prescott snapped back to reality. “You didn’t have to pay for that.”
“I wanna get outside and play some football before it’s tomorrow,” Rebel replied.
They left the store and Prescott murmured, “It’s one thing to be his uncle, but another to be his father-figure. I can’t raise a child. I’m an assassin.”
“If I were you—and it’s just me talkin’—I’d play up your exec job at Armstrong.” Rebel loaded the toys into the SUV. “One day at a time, brother. And right now, it’s more like hour by hour. He’s—” he flicked his gaze to Ethan, still in the cart—“How old are you, Ethan?”
“Free,” Ethan replied.
“Three?” Rebel confirmed.
“Uh-huh,” Ethan said.
“You got this,” Rebel said to Prescott. “He’s like a block of clay. You get to shape him, little by little. You get to help him navigate life.”
“You make it sound easy.”
