He’d borrowed one of the blankets from Pops’s bed—the green one he’d always said was his favorite—and it was bunched up over his feet. The tablet hung limply from his hands, and with his mouth open, he emitted a tiny snore.
I tiptoed in, much like I had when he was little, and settled myself on the floor so I could be at his height. When I pulled the blanket up over his body, I did it carefully, then eased the tablet out of his grip and laid it on the nightstand next to his bed. It was so tempting, in these moments of quiet, to run my hand through his hair or brush my fingers over his cheek. The boyish features were slowly melting away, and underneath were hints of what he’d look like as he grew.
Ten years had gone by in a blink. I set my chin on my forearm and watched him sleep, wondering if he was dreaming about football.
The floor behind me creaked, and I knew it was Archer. Both Pops and I knew to step over that spot when we were trying not to wake Gavin. I looked over my shoulder and smiled sheepishly. “You caught me.”
“Doing what?”
“Doing cringey mom things.”
Archer’s mouth tipped up in a smile, and he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe while I pressed my burning cheek against my arm. “Like what?”
“Watching him breathe.”
His eyes glinted with humor. “Just let me know if you want to watch me breathe in my sleep.”
I stifled a laugh and kept my voice hushed. “You’re so accommodating. I had no idea.”
Archer’s gaze swept over Gavin’s room. It was small—just enough space for a twin bed and nightstand, his dresser, and a small bookshelf that held knickknacks and collectibles. Filling the shelves were a few LEGO sets he’d assembled with Pops, framed pictures, his favorite book series, and a miniature Buffalo helmet he’d bought with Christmas money.
“He’s a good kid. You should be really proud.”
“Thank you.” I glanced back at Gavin, who let out another snore. Deciding it was worth the risk, I ran my fingers through the hair along the top of his head and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.
When I stood up, Archer was studying a LEGO car Gavin had finished a few weeks earlier.
“If you break a piece off, you’ll be in so much trouble.”
Archer smirked, carefully studying the bright-blue car. “He told me about every piece he’s made.”
“No wonder you were in here for a while.” I’d take a bullet for my kid, but listening to him talk about one of his obsessions for thirty minutes nonstop required a supernatural level of patience. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His eyes shifted to mine. “He said this was his favorite.”
“Yeah, he wanted that set for a long time. Every time we see a Porsche, he flips out.”
Archer hummed, the timbre of his voice low and quiet. “He’s got good taste.”
“He better marry someone with money if he wants one of those.”
The wide grin on Archer’s face made my belly flip. I gestured behind him. “We should let him sleep,” I said gently.
As Archer carefully set the car back down, there was a look of disappointment on his face that made me restless. Unsettled.
Wouldn’t he want to leave?
If we played that dangerous comparison game, I knew who’d win by a landslide, at least if we were weighing the obvious metrics. No one would take my life over his.
And yet my house was where he lingered. Where he told my grandfather stories from playing college ball that made Pops laugh. Where he studied pictures and asked questions, like he genuinely wanted to know more.
Maybe it didn’t matter to him that we had a small house and always drove used vehicles. Maybe it didn’t matter that I had my entire life budgeted down to the last penny and hadn’t flown on a plane since I was sixteen because vacations were for people with discretionary income and that was a category where I did not fit.
Maybe it really was the simple things that he craved, the things that were so easy to take for granted.
I had so many things that couldn’t be quantified. A good man who’d raised me when he didn’t have to, and fed my spirit when it could have been crushed on the path of someone else’s destruction. A son who adored me. A job that nourished my soul and made me happy. And friends who would answer whenever I needed them.
The wealth in my possession was rooted in things that couldn’t be bought.