Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Since I have no idea how to buckle a child in, I watch Peyton do it, and then we take off. She doesn’t know it, but because Anthony is still missing, I have several guards following us, and they’ll surround us wherever we go.
“I think we can get it at Target,” she says as I pull out of the driveway and head toward town.
“Chocolate milk with whip?” Damien asks.
“We’ll see,” Peyton tells him. “He knows Target has a coffee shop in it,” she says to me. “Whenever we go, I get a coffee, and he gets a chocolate milk with whipped cream. It’s kind of our thing.” She shrugs.
“Coffee and chocolate milk it is then,” I tell them both.
Target didn’t have the book—but it had coffee and chocolate milk—and neither did Walmart or Barnes & Noble. But after looking up other bookstores in the area, we were able to find it at the third one we went to. And the smile that spread across Damien’s face when he saw it on the shelf was worth traveling all over South Florida.
“And this is The Giving Tree,” Damien tells me.
We’re currently sitting on a bench in the children’s section of the bookstore—since he insisted his mom read it to us immediately so I’ll know what kind of tree we’re looking for—while my guys are stationed in several spots around the store and by the front door. There’s going to come a time when my son learns the type of life that he’s now a part of, but I refuse to follow in my father’s footsteps and force it down his throat. He’s going to stay innocent for as long as possible.
“This is the tree you want in our backyard?” I ask him, pointing to the large tree in the book.
“Yes.” He nods. “This one has apples, but I can get apples at the store with Mommy. I just want the tree to swing on.”
Peyton snorts a laugh, but quickly covers it with a cough before she says, “Damien, any tree we get will be small, and it will take years to grow. I don’t—”
“I got this,” I tell her with a grin, patting her knee. “You want a tree like this to swing on?” I ask him.
He nods.
“You got it, buddy. But we don’t need to go chop one down … because we already have one in our backyard.”
I pull out my phone and text my guys, letting them know what I need, and George responds that it will be done before we get home.
When my father cleared the land years ago to build the house, my mom insisted he keep an old tree in the back for shade. She said he was pissed, that he told her it would ruin the aesthetic, but she put her foot down, and the tree stayed.
We were never allowed to play as kids, but when we wanted to get away from our father, Matteo and I would climb the tree and hide out. And I always thought it would be the perfect tree to hold a swing.
“Let’s go to dinner,” I tell them. “And when we get home, I’ll take you to the tree, and your mom can read us the book while you swing from it.”
I wink at Damien, and he squeals in delight. And fuck if my heart isn’t full. My entire life has been filled with so much damn darkness, but only a day with these two, and it’s already so much brighter.
“Mommy! Daddy! It’s The Giving Tree!” Damien yells as he runs toward the large tree in the back of the property, which now houses a brand-new tire swing and wooden steps leading up to the separation in the trunk, where Matteo and I used to sit and talk for hours.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Peyton says, smiling at me. “Thank you. This is …” She shakes her head, and her eyes fill with tears.
“What you both deserve,” I tell her.
Damien goes straight for the steps first, and without issue, he clambers up the rungs and then turns around and leans against the thick branch. He’s only a few feet up in the air, but George let me know he’s having playground grass installed tomorrow, so if Damien were to fall, it would reduce the chance of him breaking something.
“Mommy, look at me!” Damien yells with a smile spread across his face. “I’m in The Giving Tree!”
“I see that,” Peyton says, walking over to him.
Damien looks around for a few seconds, and then he comes down and goes over to the tire swing. It’s low enough for him to get onto himself, so I let him do it. Once he’s sitting and holding on, I walk up behind him and push him gently.
He giggles in excitement, and Peyton grins. In this moment, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them both safe and happy.