Each chapter of this story will be told through alternating character POV's, primarily Jack, Kate and Rick. It will be clear as you read which is which, but if it ever needs to be clarified, let me know and I'll start putting markers.
Updates every Wednesday.
…2,878, 2,879, 2,900. 2,901…
Jack ran his hot wheels over the carpet as he counted down the seconds until his Dad would arrive. He liked this part of his pick-up routine.
His Mommy and Daddy weren't like other Mommies and Daddies. They didn't kiss or live in the same house like his friends'. But that was okay, he guessed, because he still got to see them both. He lived with his Mommy, and that was great. Then he spent weekends with his Dad and that was great. Well, except that his Dad was late a lot and that made his Mommy mad. And he didn't like when his Mommy was mad at his Dad. It made her frown and even cry sometimes. And his Dad would pout and be quiet for a really long time.
Yeah, he didn't like that part. But whenever his Dad was late, he got to practice his counting. He always counted the seconds past whenever his Dad was supposed to come and he'd gotten really good with big numbers! His record was 5,467.
"Jack, honey can you please clean up your cars before your Dad gets here?" His Mom breezed through, cleaning off the coffee table for the 3rd time. "Whenever he decides to show up, that is." She muttered the last part under her breath.
Jack ignored the comment as he got up off the floor, gathering the cars as his Mom asked. He started to walk to put them back in his room, but then he thought about the awesome race car track in his Dad's study. He pivoted towards the dining table where his weekend bag was hanging and slid them into the side pocket.
Just as he got them situated, the knock on the door came. "Dad's here!" He rushed for the door, his little five year old legs pushing to beat his Mom as he wrenched the door open and jumped into the waiting arms of his father. "Daddy!"
"Jacky boy!" His Dad swung him around and he giggled as his Dad's scratchy stubble tickled his face. "What's happenin' my man?" Jack laughed as his Dad held out his hand, waiting for him to "feed the bird". He'd always found that so funny.
His Dad put him down, ruffling his hair. "Alright champ, go get your bag. Let's blow this popsicle stand!"
Jack giggled at his Dad's funny joke and turned to grab his bag. But when he looked at his Mom's face, he paused. She had that look like when he refuses to eat his broccoli with dinner, or forgets to put his dirty clothes in the hamper and just leaves them on the bathroom floor.
Maybe she didn't think Dad's joke was funny…
"Jack, can you go make sure you have everything you need for the weekend? I want to talk to your father." Uh oh. He knew what that meant. She always made him leave the room when she and Dad were gonna argue.
Jack sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he slowly trudged to his room. He looked over his shoulder, trying to catch his Dad's eye. The man looked up, briefly throwing him a smile and a thumbs up, before Jack turned into his room and shut the door, waiting for it to be over.
…354, 355, 356…
Jack counted as he swung his feet from where he was perched on his bed. He was already fully ready to leave, nothing more he could do, but count and wait.
This had happened enough times that he had a system for it. Whenever his Mom and Dad had to have "adult talk", he would leave the room and start counting to 500. The first time it ever happened, he just kept counting to see what he could get to, but that time he had only been stopped by his Mommy storming into his room at his Dad's house, telling him it was time to leave. She had tears in her eyes and didn't talk for a long time after they left.
After that, Jack had started limiting the amount of time he would leave them alone to talk. He had landed somewhere around 500 seconds as a good time to interrupt them, no matter what. That was usually before his Mommy got those frowny wrinkles between her eyes, before his Dad's jaw would look all tight and square. Whenever they saw him, no matter what they were talking about, they'd stop and smile at him, one of them muttering something like 'we'll finish this later'.
Jack pushed himself off the bed, grabbing his bag as he neared the 500 mark. He walked slowly toward his door, twisting the knob slowly. He didn't usually like to listen in, usually didn't understand why they were arguing, but sometimes he just got curious. Curious little bug. That's what his Grandpa said to him sometimes. He stepped softly out into the hall and tried to pick up the rest of whatever was being said.
"...everyone else, but you and I both know, you've never been able to hide from me."
"You son of a-"
Jack winced a little bit as the toy cars in the side pocket of his bag brushed the wall, rattling and alerting his parents to his presence. He watched as they both swiveled to look at him, faces morphing from the anger of just seconds ago to tight little smiles. "I…I think I'm all ready to go."
"Okay buddy, come here and give momma a hug, hm?" He watched his Mom squat down, balancing on her heels, as he came forward to wrap his arms around her. "Have a lot of fun, okay? And be good for Dad, yeah? I'll see you on Sunday."
"Okay, Mommy. Love you." Jack gave his usual response, waiting for his Mother to just let him go, but he had to wait longer than normal, his Mom pulling him even tighter and squeezing him. When they pulled back, she almost looked like she had tears in her eyes, but he couldn't tell. Maybe 500 seconds was too long now…
"Okay bud, c'mon." His Dad reached for his bag, taking it for him as he waved a little to his Mom again before heading for the door. He was sad he couldn't stay and make sure she was okay, but he could tell it was time for his Dad to leave. He wished they didn't argue so much. He wished they could be like a real Mom and Dad and he didn't have to only see his Dad on weekends or miss out on lazy Sunday mornings with his Mom.
He wished they were a family.
"Hey, it's me. I'm just gonna be another ten minutes, tops. I swear. I-"
"Lemme guess. Super dad late again?"
"Yes." She sighs. "Of course he is. I don't know why I scheduled our lunch around the hope that he would actually be here when he said he would. Truly not my finest moment. I'll make it up to you."
Lanie chuckled into the phone. "Oh, I'm fine waiting around. Got the day off and it's not even five. Don't use me to be mad at your ex."
Kate laughs and rolls her eyes. "Trust me, I don't need any more reasons than what he already supplies me with." She shuffles through the laundry baskets, taking one of the separated piles and beginning to fold. She listens briefly, makes sure her son is still occupied at the table with his homework before continuing. "God, Lanie, I just- I don't know what more he expects from me. I can't keep putting my kid through this."
"Well, not for nothing, the man's a good father. When he shows up for Jack, he always does it in a big way."
"Yeah, exactly." Kate huffs. "When he shows up!" She stacks her son's underwear on top of his pile and heads off into his room to put them away. "Do you know what Jack said to me when I picked him up from school yesterday? He said he was changing his mind. He doesn't wanna build rockets when he grows up anymore. He wants to be a writer, like his Daddy."
Lanie aws. "That's sweet."
"Yeah, I thought so too, at first." Kate scoffs. "Then he looks up at me with those big, blue eyes and says 'do you think that'll make Daddy want to spend more time with me?' I mean what the hell am I supposed to say to that Lane?"
"What did you say?"
Kate scoffs at herself this time. "What I always say. That his Daddy loves him more than anything in the world. No matter what."
"Nice call." Her friend chuckles.
"And the sucky thing is, I don't even doubt that that's true. I know he loves Jack, would die for him. The problem is he can't seem to live for him. Can't manage to get his life together and be the father Jack needs. Right now, he's just like the fun baby-sitter. It sucks. Especially because that leaves me always being the bad guy."
Lanie hums. "The consequences we suffer for choosing to procreate."
"Wasn't actually much of a choice, Lane."
Kate sighs at that, thinks about the twenty year old girl, fresh off her mother's murder. All she had left in the world was an alcoholic father and a chip on her shoulder the size of Manhattan. Everything was doom and gloom for her, all her possibility of joy stripped away.
Then she met a man in a bar, a man who made her laugh for the first time since her mother passed, a man who made everyday an adventure. He was fun and she'd needed fun. They both seemed to. He was running from something just as much as she was and she was fine with that, had actually fallen for him and the stories he'd paint for her at two am as they lay naked in his bed or hers. She was content, content with staying in their little bubble where nothing mattered and everything felt possible.
But stuff got real again. Her father almost died. She got pregnant. The adventure had to take a backseat and she had to grow up, fast. She had to leave the bubble. She assumed he'd end up coming with her.
She was wrong.
"I wouldn't do a single bit of it differently. I'm so grateful for the life I have now. Don't know where I'd be without Jack." She pauses, questioning if she was really about to admit this out loud, and to Lanie, no less, who'd never let her live it down. "I just… sometimes I just wish he-"
"Mommy! Can I have a snack?" Kate startles, nearly dropping the last of the freshly folded laundry she was storing away as Jack calls to her from the bedroom door. She shakes her head and sighs, finishing her task before following him back out into the living room.
"I've gotta go, Lane. I'll see you soon."
"Mmhmm. You sure will. And you will be finishing whatever you were about to say." Lanie threatens and she can already hear in her voice that she's serious. Kate won't be able to wiggle her way out of that one. Shit.
"Yup. Bye Lanie."
"Bye, Aunt Lanie!" Her son yells before she can end the call.
"Bye, my honey bear!" Her friend calls back to him.
Kate ends the call, briefly checking for any missed calls or apologetic messages from the man who still hasn't managed to show yet. Nothing. Figures. She takes a deep breath before turning her eyes to her son. "Whadya say, bud, pb & j's?"
She waits. Waits to hear the door of her son's bedroom click, waits until her hands stop shaking, she even pauses to do that belly breathing exercise Dr. Burke had taught her. She waits and she makes sure her voice is low and calm when she turns to face him.
"Listen, Kate-"
"Four 'clock."
He stutters. "I know, but-"
"Four o'clock. It never changes. Fridays at four. You know the schedule."
"I do! But Kate, I have a reason why-"
She scoffs, cuts him off again, can't continue to contain her annoyance, her anger.
"You always have a reason why, Rick. A reason why you're late, a reason why you cancel, a reason why you feed him candy and sugar until he's vomiting everywhere and I have to stop what I'm doing to pick him up."
He scoffs. "Okay that happened, one- a couple of times, but-"
"You always," she interrupts, not even caring enough to hear him anymore "have an excuse for why everything else is more important than your son."
"Don't." He growls at her and her eyes narrow, spine tensing, preparing for the same old fight. "Do not even try to imply that I don't care about my son, okay? Jack is one of the most important things in the world to me."
"Yeah, ya know. You say that a lot. But guess what, Rick? Actions speak louder than words."
"You-" he starts, but she cuts her eyes to him, a warning not to yell, not to alert their son to what's going on. He deflates and takes a deep breath of his own. "You're right, okay? I'm- I'm gonna do better, alright? I promise."
She tuts at that, not even willing to respond. It's no different than the forty other times he's made the same promise. She brings a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, forcing back the fight. She's so tired of fighting him, doesn't wanna do it anymore. But he always leads them here.
"I really don't want any more of your promises, Rick. Okay? Not until you can start keeping the ones you've already made." She sighs and leans her weight against the wall at her back. "Jack's birthday is Monday."
He glares at her. "I can remember my own son's birthday, Kate."
"Did you remember what said son asked you for? The one gift he's been talking about for months?"
He almost hides the hesitation from her, trying to cover with puffed up indignation even as she sees the wheels turning in his head. Of course. "What am I? An idiot? Of course I remember. It's a-all he talks about."
She knows she won't get more than that from him, doesn't have the energy or the desire to press him for the truth. The steady resentment she's held against him for years is slowly morphing into a depressing amount of disappointment. She'd rather stay in the dark than witness him fall short again. "Fine. Just remember to have it and him here by 11am on Sunday. That's when we're throwing the party."
"We, huh?" She rolls her eyes at the contempt in his tone. "Didn't know you and FBI Bobby were a 'we' now."
Her nostrils flare at the immature nickname he has refused to let up on in the past eight months since she's been seeing the agent. "Will and I have been a 'we' for a while now. I think you know that."
"How would I? Guy's never here. Which I guess is the cost you pay when you're dating superman, but-" he shrugs, picking up one of the knick knacks on a nearby shelf, putting it back "all the same. Feels a little weird letting some stranger host my kid's party."
She scoffs at that. "Will isn't a stranger. Not to Jack. They play soccer together all the time-"
"Oh, boy, wow. Soccer. I didn't know it was that serious, Kate. When's the wedding?"
"Do you have to be this much of a jackass all the time?" She tucks her head in her hands, tugging at her hair briefly. This is all wrong, all so stupid, but she doesn't know how to fix it. He won't help her fix it.
"You used to be able to take a joke." He tuts at her. "You used to be fun."
And boy, if that doesn't send her off the handle. She rounds on him immediately. "You've got some damn nerve, you know that?" She starts, sees the regret flit across his face momentarily. "You know what, Rick? You're right. I'm not the reckless twenty year old you met all those years ago. I don't get black out drunk or eat my weight in take out anymore. Sue me for growing up, trying to make something of my life for our son." His shoulders hunch up at his ears, looking sufficiently told off, but she isn't done. Can't be. "You wanna know what your real problem is? You're stuck."
He rolls his shoulders at that. "Stuck?"
"Yes. Stuck, frozen in whatever moment you're still running from. And it was fine when we were both stuck. We were fine. But then stuff got real. And when I needed a partner, I looked around and realized I'd been running around with the school's funniest kid, and it wasn't enough."
That strikes him. And God help him, he'll always strike back. "You really think you're any better? I may be 'stuck', Kate, but at least I know where I am. You pretend you're so fine and perfect, but the truth is you're just hiding. Jack wasn't some saving angel that cured everything. He was just another place for you to hide. And so is FBI Bobby. Why else would you be building a life with a man you see less than your dentist?"
She steps into him, glowering. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
He smirks back at her, dark tinges of anger in the upturn of his lips. "Nice try. You might've perfected hiding from everything and everyone else, but you and I both know, you've never been able to hide from me."
"You son of a-"
She pauses at the same time he does, both so attuned to their son, even in the middle of a fight. They hear him and clamp off everything else, turning smiles on him, her son waiting to be whisked away to a fun weekend with his father, unaware of the drastic shift that's taking place over his life.
"Okay buddy, come here and give momma a hug, hm?" She squats down, balancing on her heels, as he comes forward to wrap his arms around her. "Have a lot of fun, okay? And be good for Dad, yeah? I'll see you on Sunday."
"Okay, Mommy. Love you." Jack gives his usual response, and Kate tries to be normal, she really does. But her heart continues to shatter behind the fake smile she's put on for her son, Rick's words slicing her open still, and she allows herself a few extra seconds of breathing him in before she lets him go.
She watches Rick take his bag, meets the man's eyes over her son's head. She hates that it always comes to this. Hates that they can't just transfer custody of her son without slashing open old wounds. She tries so hard to stop rising to the bait. He just brings it all out of her, infuriating man that he is.
She's always tried to make things easy for Jack, tried to make his life normal, despite her dealings with his father. She's never let them fight in front of him, never talked down about Rick in front of their son, has even been his biggest defender at times. She never wanted Jack to see his Dad as anything other than great. But if things were soon going where she thought they were going, she might not be able to protect him for much longer.
"The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quaint town of Willow Creek. Detective James Carter stood at the edge of the crime scene, his eyes fixed on the dilapidated old mansion looming before him. Its once-grand facade now wore a shroud of neglect, its windows boarded up, and its gardens overgrown with weeds.
A chill ran down his spine as he stepped closer, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet echoing in the eerie silence. The mansion's history was as dark as its appearance, with rumors of a tragic past that refused to be forgotten.
As Carter approached the front door, it creaked open with a haunting squeal, revealing the scene inside. The room was bathed in a dim, flickering light, casting long, ominous shadows on the walls. The air was heavy with the smell of decay, and the floorboards groaned under his weight.
In the center of the room lay the body of a woman, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. She was dressed in a gown that spoke of a bygone era, her pale skin stark against the crimson pool that surrounded her.
Carter knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face. Who was she? How had she come to meet such a gruesome fate? And why here, in this forsaken place?
As he searched for answers, Carter couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows of the past were closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. But he was determined to unravel the mystery, no matter where it led him. For in the darkness of Willow Creek, the truth was the only light that could guide him…."
The truth was the only light that could guide him? Oh gimme a damn break.
Rick highlighted the entire text and erased it all, leaving him once again with a blank screen and a cursor blinking back at him, taunting him.
This was his life now.
Wake up. Open computer. Waste hours writing the most mediocre drivel known to man. Delete it. Watch porn. Close computer. Spend more hours going through the little black book of old connections, praying for an odd job here or there to sustain at least a little bit of the good life still.
Oh how far the mighty have fallen…God, he even THOUGHT in cliches.
Rick snapped the laptop shut, slightly disrupting his routine to go in search of food. He entered the kitchen, pushing his fists into his eye sockets in an attempt to chase away his previous thoughts. One would think after years of this, he'd be immune to this soul-sinking feeling of purposelessness and failure.
But no. It just seems to renew every morning.
Rick rifled through the fridge a bit, spotting his leftover lo mein from two nights ago and grabbing it, along with a pudding cup he couldn't remember buying and a half-drunken juice box. On his way back to his office, he scooped up the bottle of jack (the last one; he'd have to do a grocery run soon) off the coffee table, along with what appeared to be a clean glass. Mostly.
He plopped back down in the chair and shoveled some of the cold lo mein into his mouth before grabbing for the black book and what he called his "business" phone. Flipping through the pages, he tried to remember who he hadn't bothered yet, or at least who he hadn't bothered in a while. He overlooked some of the ones that were crossed out, those who would not be keen on hearing from him, and quickly found a number.
He allowed his finger to swipe through the pudding as the phone rang, bringing it straight up to his mouth. It rang a few times and then "Hello?"
"Dan! Danny boy! How've you been, man?" He spoke as cheerfully as he could around the finger still in his mouth.
A sigh came from the other line before a ragged voice cut in. "'Bout the same as the last time you hit me up, Rick."
Rick wiped his sticky finger off on the side of his sleep shorts and readjusted the phone so he could pour himself a drink. He would need it in order to get through what he was about to do. "That's great, man! Wife and kids all doing good? I saw those pictures of you guys in Cabo for spring break on Mary's Facebook! Man, you really are loaded now, huh?" He laughed a bit as he took another drink, trying to keep things light.
Dan paused for a moment, skepticism evident in his voice. "Cut the crap, Rick. What do you want this time?"
Rick cringed inwardly, nervously chuckling as he thought of ways to reel this back in. "Hey, no need to be like that, Danny boy! I just thought we could catch up, maybe grab a drink or something."
There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line before Dan finally spoke again. "You only call when you need something, Rick. I'm not your personal ATM."
Rick winced at Dan's words, at the harsh reality in them, but scoffed into the phone anyway. "Come on, man, it's not like that. I miss hanging out with you, that's all. Remember the good old days? We used to have some wild times together."
Dan let out something that probably should've been a chuckle but lacked all humor. "Yeah, wild times that usually ended with me bailing you out of some mess or another. Look, I can't keep doing this, Rick, okay? I got a family, got kids I gotta put through college-"
"Hey, I get it! I'm a father, too, after all!" Yeah, that's right, Rick. Say what you have to to find the in. "Maybe we get together soon, trade war stories?" He was going for humor, but the joke fell flat even to his own ears.
Just as he thought, Dan hadn't laughed, not even a huff of breath. "Look, why don't we just skip the part where you use our past history to try to manipulate me and you just tell me what you want."
Rick let out a defeated sigh, the facade crumbling as he rubbed a hand over his tired face. There was no use trying to sugarcoat it any longer. "Fine. Look, Dan… I need a job."
"…what kind of job?" Rick allowed his silence to be his answer. "No."
"Hear me out-"
"Rick, absolutely not, okay? Besides, I'm not even in that… business anymore. I got a family, responsibilities. I can't get jammed up."
"Oh, come on, Dan! Dan the man! You used to run stuff! You've got more connections than a telephone pole. I'm sure one call is all it would take."
A frustrated sigh came down the line and rustled against Rick's ear. "This stuff isn't a game, okay? These people don't mess around and from what I remember? You don't do serious well."
"Danny, I swear to you, hand to God, you get me in, I will not screw it up, okay?"
Silence followed by more silence. Some part of him should've been nervous, but Rick had learned at a very young age what it sounded like when you made the sale versus when you didn't and he was feeling pretty confident that any moment now-
"Fine."
Rick let out a whoop and punched the air. "You will not regret this Dan-"
"Oh, I know I won't. You screw this up, you're on your own. I'll set up the job, but as of this moment, you and I are done. You do not call this number again. You do not know me and I do not know you and so help me God, Rick, if this gets back to me-"
"It won't."
A beat, and then. "See that it doesn't." Dan grunted before hanging up.
Rick sat there, staring at his phone in a mix of elation and dread. He had done it. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him as he gulped down the last of his drink. He placed the tumbler down as he tore the page out of his book with Dan's contact info. He pulled out one of drawers in his desk and located the lighter he kept there. Carefully, he lit the edge of the page and dropped it into the glass, watching as it burned down to nothing but ash.
Another burnt bridge…literally this time, but he knew to take Dan's warning seriously.
Dan was a guy he'd met while doing research for his first book. Dan dabbled in a couple of different arenas; the closest Rick could get to a crime boss at the time, but he didn't mind. He'd learned a lot. Most specifically, he'd learned that people like that were not the kind you lied to, not the kind you crossed.
Rick shook away those thoughts, dumping the soggy ashes into the trash next to him and counting himself victorious for at least getting a yes. If the job went well, he'd be good on funds for at least a couple of months. Just until he got back on his feet…yeah…
Setting the empty glass down, Rick opened his laptop back up. His hands trembled slightly as he began typing furiously, crafting a new story idea sparked by the conversation with Dan and his past. The words flowed out of him effortlessly, each keystroke breathing life into a world that existed only in his mind.
Hours passed in a blur as Rick immersed himself in the story, forgetting about the emptiness that had plagued him earlier. The familiar thrill of creation surged through him, filling the void that alcohol and cheap entertainment never seemed to be able to. Moments like these were far and few between and he knew it had a shelf life. He had to milk it for what it was worth now.
As the sun began to sink and cast shadows through the window, Rick leaned back in his chair, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. For the first time in months, he had filled pages with something that actually resembles real writing. This whole day was just coming up 'Rick'. He felt on top of the world.
His stomach rumbled, interrupting his train of thought, and he checked the clock to see how long it had been since he'd eaten. Hm, 4:03. Rick grabbed at the leftover lo mein box, noting it was empty. He'd exhausted all the edible options left in his fridge, which meant going out for food.
He briefly ran through the map of fast food places in his neighborhood, trying to decide what would taste best and who would deliver fastest at four on a Friday. He spun around a nearby pencil as he thought, tossing it up into the air occasionally. Maybe that place by-
Rick shot up in his chair, not even caring that the pencil had fallen to the floor.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He pushed around empty containers and papers on his desk until he found his actual phone.
Four missed calls and a bunch of messages, all pretty much saying the same. Where the hell are you?
"Fuck!" Rick jumped out of his chair and rushed into his room to find the cleanest, most presentable thing he could wear. How could he have forgotten again? Kate was actually going to kill him. He was late to pick up his son. Again.
He thought briefly about calling her, making up some excuse, but he learned long ago she was immune to his storytelling capabilities. She'd see right through him and ream him out anyway. Best to save the verbal tongue lashing for when he could potentially use his son as a human shield.
…oh. That was kinda messed up.
Rick ignored the nagging of his conscience, chocking it up to his playful imagination, and continued getting dressed.
Out on the street, Rick flagged down the nearest taxi. Once inside he gave them Kate's address and then set back for the haul.
In the silence, his conscience reared back up, giving him grief about all the ways he was a failure, specifically concerning his son.
Jack… he loved his son more than words could say. And that was saying a lot. He was a writer after all. Jack meant everything to him. But six years of the boy's life and he still hadn't managed to be the father he knew Jack deserved. It hurt him, disappointing his son like this, but it never stopped him from continuing to do it, apparently.
Thinking of all this made Rick's hands itch for a drink. He actually entertained having the cabbie drop him in front of the pub on Kate's block instead, but no way would she allow Jack to go with him if she knew he'd been drinking.
Rick passed the cabbie a few bills as he got out in front of Kate's building. On the way up to her apartment, he searched his pockets and found a piece of old gum. Quickly popping it into his mouth to hide the smell of three day old lo mein and Jack Daniels, he knocked on the door.
Rick shuffled down the hallway, mind racing.
He had expected some sort of argument, but that? That felt… significant. In a way he couldn't quite put his finger on either, and that bothered him. He hadn't lied. He'd always been able to read her so well, and vice versa. It was one of the things that drew them to each other initially. But maybe the years had eroded his talent to see beyond her walls. Or maybe she'd just built them much higher, sturdier.
Part of him couldn't sit with the uncertainty. He wanted to go back, scream it out, make her admit whatever it was she was holding back, but-
"Dad, can we pull the race track out tonight before dinner? I brought my best cars." Rick looked over, almost having forgotten his son was with him.
"Uh, sure bud. I'll have to clean us up some floor space, but I don't see why not." He smiled and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders, tugging him in. "What do you think about pizza and ice cream tonight?"
Jack hesitated and slowed his pace a little. "Mommy says I shouldn't be eating a lot of junk. She says it'll... stunt my growth?"
Rick scoffed at that and paused to kneel in front of his son. "Look, your Mom has lots of rules and you should always follow them." He waited for the boy to nod. "But at casa de Castle? There are no rules! We can do whatever we want! Man style!" Rick playfully growled, trying to ilicit a laugh, a smile, something, but Jack was still hesitant, looking as serious as ever. Just like his mother. "Hey, I'll even let you pick what we watch."
That got Jack buzzing. "Oh! Yes! Can we watch all the Avengers movies? I love Iron man! I really hope I get the new action figure for my birthday."
Iron man… duh. How could he have forgotten that?
"Sure, Jack. Whatever you want." Rick got up and continued leading his son out of the building and onto the their "no rules, only guys" weekend.
