Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Well, not final. Because apparently Isaiah was determined to file for guardianship too. But that would change. A few weeks of caring for the kids and he’d be begging to go back to his life.
“I’ll send you some names. And think about letting Betsy take the baby. It would be one less thing on your plate.” His uncle mopped at his head with his handkerchief.
“No.” This was the one area where he and Isaiah were in agreement. “I don’t want to split up the kids.” Danielle had been complicated, infuriating at times, distant at others, and hadn’t always been the best sibling. But he also couldn’t imagine life growing up without her.
“Well at least get a good nanny.” He clapped Mark on the shoulder right as Isaiah walked over with the baby still strapped into his bucket car seat.
“We don’t need a nanny. Not yet at least. The kids have been through enough changes.” Isaiah glared at them both. His ferocity on behalf of the kids really was admirable. “Are you ready to go? We’ve got to pick the girls up at preschool—it’s only a half-day program.”
“Yeah.” Mark said the last of his goodbyes and followed Isaiah out of the office where they walked at a more normal clip back to the car.
“I’m driving.” Isaiah held out his hand for the keys, which Mark reluctantly tossed over. It was Isaiah’s car after all.
“I’m going to need something better for kids, I guess,” Mark mused as Isaiah got the kid clicked into the car seat base before sliding into the driver’s seat. Neither his dad’s BMW nor his own Camaro were exactly kid friendly.
“This will work fine,” Isaiah said, stubborn tilt to his chin. “Look. I know you’re thinking that you’ve got to do the right thing here or something, but I’ve got this.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Mark asked as Isaiah left the parking garage and headed back toward the bridge.
“Longer than you. Mark, you’re a f—freaking SEAL. You’ll probably be deployed again before the guardianship hearing even.”
“I’m going to base later today. Gotta work out some leave.” Mark all but growled the words because Isaiah was right—his job was going to be an issue, no two ways about it. He’d been granted emergency bereavement leave but that wasn’t indefinite.
“Great.” Isaiah sounded like that news was anything but. “You’re still going to need me. Maybe you haven’t realized that yet, but you need me.”
Oh hell no. Mark didn’t need anyone, had made it his habit not to need people. And he was fast coming to need Isaiah, which was risky and foolish. People let you down. Always. His parents. Dani. Even friends. People weren’t there when they said they would be. People moved on, left, or fucking died.
“I’ll manage,” he said firmly. “And we’re supposed to share—”
“Exactly. That means you treating me like an adult.”
The baby started squalling in the back seat before Mark could figure out a retort. In his head, Isaiah was still eighteen, fresh-faced and full of innocent energy and reckless abandon. The man he’d been around the past few days was still new. Different. And Mark didn’t know what to make of him.
“Okay, Liam. We get it. No more arguing,” Isaiah said, far gentler now. He flipped on the radio. “Baby likes my music.”
“The oldies station is your music?” Mark had to laugh as a classic movie theme from the eighties came on. He totally would have pegged Isaiah for hip-hop or rap like so many of Mark’s buddies or maybe club music since Isaiah seemed to enjoy going out so much.
“Hey now. Aunt Cecily liked taking us for long drives and this is her music. You don’t go insulting Aunt Cecily’s taste, man.”
“She used to drive?”
“Yeah, her vision started going about eight years ago or so, much worse in the last four or five. Early onset macular degeneration. She’s still got a little peripheral vision but not much. She moved in with Aunt Louise and Grandma about two years ago when it became hard for her to live on her own, and with my dad gone so much, it was the best solution for her.”
“That sucks.” Mark had worked with some military personnel with vision loss, and he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose something so vital.
“Eh. She manages.” Isaiah gave a little shrug. “She’d smack you for feeling sorry for her, that’s for sure. And honestly, I’m most worried about her losing Cal. It’s gonna be rough on her.”
“All of you really.” In his own haze of grief, Mark had lost sight of the fact that Isaiah and his family had suffered too. Isaiah had to be grieving, hard. And yet he’d still been able to pull it together for the kids, do most of the work that had to be done. That had to change. “I’m going to help more,” Mark resolved.