Page 105 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

“Not that different,” Tommy said flatly. “You think he was always just falling down drunk and forgetting he had kids and responsibilities and shit? Because he wasn’t. Sometimes he was sober, or sober enough, at least. Sometimes he had a job and paid the bills and made pancakes and did stuff with us too. Not much after our mom died, but he did stuff.” And why? Why did the backs of his eyes burn when he said that? Why did his chest go tight and his nose sting? Why in the fuck was saying that making him hurt so bad all of a sudden? “And then he’d stop and then it’d go to shit and I’d have to pick up the pieces again and it didn’t matter if I was sixteen or six years old. It was me and no one else and it happened every damn time.”

Judy nodded. Tommy couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or just letting him know she understood. Then she said, “But it’s not just you this time, Tommy. You’ve got me and Bobby. Colleen is older now, Mike is older. Davey and Collin and Carrie are old enough to handle it.”

“I don’t see how that makes much of a difference.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Now, their lives and well-being weren’t tied to whether or not Cal stayed sober or went to jail or paid a bill. No matter what happened with their old man, they had a roof and food and clothes and a hell of a lot more than Tommy had ever dared to hope they’d have.

“It makes a difference because your life and your happiness isn’t controlled by what goes on in his life anymore.”

“I don’t like the kids getting attached to him and then seeing him fall on his face. The twins were too young to see him up and down and up and down over and over again. They think this guy—this fucking gardener and cookie baker—is their father and, yeah, it kind of pisses me off.”

He hadn’t expected Judy to snort a laugh at that.

“What’s so funny?”

“Everything pisses you off,” she said, in that Bobby calm-the skittish-criminal way. “But they don’t think of him as their father. None of them do, but most especially Max and Zoe.”

She got up and pulled a folder from a shelf. “Yesterday, they had to draw pictures of their families in class,” she said as she pulled a drawing out and handed it to Tommy.

Zoe had drawn a house with a rainbow over it, the dog playing in the yard. Judy was there, off to the side, something that looked a little like Mike and Colleen farther away. A blond stick figure that was probably Davey held hands with a shorter one that was probably Collin. Then, a tall one with dark hair held a little stick figure Zoe, then Max, and holding Max’s other hand was a stick figure cop, and at the end, stick figure Carrie. Over Tommy’s head in Zoe’s careful kindergarten print was “daddy,” and under that was “Tommy,” and Tommy’s heart about stopped. More so when he saw the purple letters over Bobby’s head were the same. Daddy. They never called either of them that, but it was in their heads. In their little hearts. Tommy couldn’t breathe for a second.

“In case you’re wondering,” Judy said, passing him another drawing. “Max’s was pretty much the same.” Almost identical, really. Except that in Max’s drawing, he was the one holding Tommy’s hand.

Tommy sniffled, and Judy smirked.

“You don’t ever have to worry about the kids thinking of Cal as anything more than he is, Tommy. He’s doing his best, and we should be happy for him, but there are things he can’t undo, and everyone, including him, knows it.” She paused and waited for Tommy to look at her. “So it’s okay to hope the best for him because no matter what happens, his journey is his own.”

With a tight nod, Tommy stood. “Mind if I keep these?”

Judy smiled. “You don’t have to ask me for anything regarding your children, Tommy.”

How did she manage to punch him in the gut like that? With just a couple of words. Your children. “Thanks,” he said and got the hell out of there as quickly as he could.

He’d come back over in a few minutes, put the twins to bed, read them their stories, kiss Carrie good night, and brush her hair because she always says it makes her sleep better. He’d spend a few minutes with Davey and Collin and ask about their homework and how school was going. Just as he did every night, when he wasn’t working a late shift.

But for now, everything was too soft and too warm, and Tommy needed some air.

What he really needed was a cigarette, but Bobby would be home soon, and he’d been caught cheating twice already in the last few days.

Instead, he put the pictures up on their small fridge with a magnet and put together some dinner for Bobby with the leftover steak they’d had the night before, made some quick fajitas, which Bobby loved and Tommy tried to make for him at least once a month.

They had kids. They’d had kids all along, but Tommy had always thought of them as just part of himself, part of his life. But it was more than that, and Tommy needed the break to wrap his head around it all.

Deleted Scene

From the upcoming sequel to The Last Thing He Needs

Spoiler alert: Tommy and Bobby decide to adopt the twins!

Author’s Note: This scene was cut because I discovered that, for local family adoptions, there’s no mandatory counseling sessions, but I’d already written it, and I like these guys. I hope you do too.

Bobby

“This is the dumbest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard of.” Tom scowled at the yellow notepad in his hand, tapping the tip of his pen against it.

“I like it,” Bobby said, unsurprised by Tom’s response. Of all the things he ever thought he could get Tom to do, therapy wasn’t one of them.

“Of course you like it,” Tom muttered from beside him. “This is the kind of shit you dream about.”

Bobby couldn’t help his grin, but he tried to hide it behind his hand. “I wouldn’t say dream, but it’s kind of nice.”

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