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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks a ton, to all of you, who have stuck with this story. I, also, really appreciate all of the positive feedback! Thanks again, guys!
It was Saturday morning and I was feeling real lazy. Having no motivation to do anything, I just pulled on a pair of sweats, and lounged on my bed. My continuing fight, with Morgan, was wearing on me. I know it’s not technically a fight…but it feels like one. I’ve never had her give me the silent treatment, before, and it was slowly crushing me. Since I had a good four hours, before our counseling session with Kevin, I decided to flip open my dad’s journal. As always, I ran my fingers over the leather, before flipping through the pages. I got up, off my bed, and got comfortable in my desk chair, kicking my feet, up, onto the window seat. Hmm…where did I leave off?

February 12, 2006

Dear Journal –

You wouldn’t believe my day! Nick and Leighanne got into a major tizzy, over one of the stupidest things! Nick took Baylee out, so that Leigh and I could have lunch, just the two of us. Not only did she spend most of the time on the phone, but all hell broke loose when we met back up with Nick and Bay.

See…Nick doesn’t really think things through sometimes, especially when it comes to buying toys for Baylee. Now, I didn’t have a problem with what he got today, but Leigh flipped her lid. You should have seen her face, when Baylee came running up, to show us his new toy shotgun. So, now let’s take a look at all sides of this issue.

Leighanne argues that toy guns promote bad ideas, into children’s minds. Evidently, she read an article about how toy guns can numb a child’s mind, against death. Children use toy guns to “kill” things and people that ultimately don’t receive any injury; therefore it clouds the child mind, to what death is and what it means. This can lead to the child growing up and actually killing people, without fully understanding the consequences, of their actions.

Nick’s response was…well…very Nick-ish. All he said was “Dude…Leigh…it’s a toy.” That about sums up the tall blonde dork’s views, on the subject.

As for me…I don’t see the big deal. I had toy guns, when I was a boy. My parents were always clear on the rules, of playing with them. I was never allowed to point them at people or animals…they were strictly for pretending. My brother, and I, just went “hunting”, trying to bag the big buck. We played in the yard, pretending to see big deer all around and trying to get the biggest one. I turned out just fine! I was allowed those toys, but was taught on how to play with them, the right way.

So what’s the verdict, you ask? The toy gun got taken away and Nick got an hour long lecture on, the responsibility of, raising a child. I was really irritated over the whole situation. I tried to mediate. I tried to help them see each other’s sides. I tried to be the voice of reason. I got ignored. Leighanne got mad, thinking I was siding with Nick. It was a lose, lose, situation and there was no way for everyone to be happy. Baylee was crushed, when the toy shotgun was taken away, but, without Leigh’s knowledge, I sent it with Nick. I know exactly where it’s going to go, too…in his attic, where all Baylee’s other “forbidden” toys have been stashed.

Well…I guess I am done venting, for now. I’ve got a horrid headache, and I am going…to bed!

- Brian Thomas Littrell



Snapping the journal shut, I tossed it onto my bed. I got up so quickly, that my desk chair spun, and I sprinted to my door. Flinging the door open, it hit the wall with a crash. My legs couldn’t have carried me, to the attic, any quicker. I climbed the steps two, by two. Finally reaching the third story’s only room, I creaked open the worn, wooden door.

“Gross!” I groaned, whisking away the cobwebs. It took me a few moments to find the pull cord, for the single light fixture. Once light was shed, into the room, I saw just how big it was and that it was packed full of stuff. There were boxes everywhere, trunks, and bags…all stacked up in a, typical Nick, unorganized manner. The room looked like it used to be very nice, but now it was just dusty and un-kept. I bet with, a bit, of cleaning, this room would look like every other room, in the house. I kept letting my eyes scan the room. There was a single window, with a seat, just like in my room and not much, of anything, else.

I snapped out of my thoughts, and started rummaging through things. The first box was filled with hundreds and hundreds of pictures, from the Backstreet Boys’ heyday. Setting it aside, I made a note to look through them, later. On to the next box…sifting and sorting…Nick’s old family pictures and momentous of his childhood. Next…a large plastic bag…clothes? I rolled my eyes, after pulling out a shirt, to see it was from their Black and Blue tour. Letting out a loud sigh, I let my fingers touch my father’s face, and then put the shirt back in the bag.

“I know it’s all in here…Nick never gets rid of anything!” I spoke to no one, but myself, as I continued to rummage through the contents, of the room. Box after box, bag after bag…until…”YES!” I shouted, pulling out an old toy shotgun. “It really was here! I knew it!” I spotted a small toy pistol along with another toy shot gun.

I grabbed the three guns and sprinted out of the room, not bothering to turn out the light. Skidding, to a halt, I pounded on Mason’s door. When he answered, I just grinned and tossed him one, of the guns. He looked at me odd, and I just smirked. Both, of us, took off at full speed, scrambling down the stairs. We stood on opposite sides, of Nick’s office door, holding our guns in the ready position. Holding a finger, over my lips, I signaled the count, before we busted in through the door. As the doors flew open, I tossed the third gun, to Nick, who was shocked, but still able to catch it.

“Where did you…?” Nick began to question, but trailed off, as Mason and I initiated the gun fight. We gave Nick the little pistol, so Mason and I had the upper hand, with the shotguns.

“Oh you two are dead!” Nick grinned widely, getting up from his office chair. It was only a matter, of moments, before we were chasing each other around the house. Sprinting up and down the stairs, swapping from room to room, ducking behind furniture, and gasping for breath…our battle raged on.

“Cover me, Bay!” Mason called, as we both hid behind the kitchen island. He crawled out and made a run for Nick. I popped my head up, over the island and snickered, watching Nick lift Mason over his shoulder. Nick pointed the toy gun at me, with a wild smirk.

“You want a piece of me…punk?!?” Nick licked his lips and tried to spin the gun in his hand. I laughed, as I watched the plastic tumble, to the floor. Grinning, like a mad man, I rested my gun, one the top of the counter, aimed, and shot him. “AGH!” Nick screamed. He gently put Mason down, before dramatically stumbling around, clutching his chest. Mason ran over, to stand, by me, as we watched Nick desperately grab at the wall.

“Nice shot, Bay!” Mason smiled, giving me a high five. Nick gurgled and let his right hand slide down the wall, as he fell to the floor, with a thump.

“Thanks. We’ll see if he ever stashes my toys in the attic, again!” I squatted next to Nick’s body and poked him, with the barrel of my toy gun. He opened on eye and looked up, at me.

“How did you know about those, anyways?” His other eye opened, as a grin spread across his face.

“How do you think?” Tilting my head, I raised my eyebrows. The answer, to his question, was obvious and he already knew it.

“Reading your dad’s journal again?” He grunted, as he sat up. Mason and I turned our backs, to his, and the three of us leaned back, on each other. We sat and talked for over an hour, before it was time to start getting ready. Nick retreated back, into his office, while Mason and I headed upstairs.

“Bay?” Mason stopped me, just before I entered my room. Turning around, I saw a look, of distress, across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk?” My ears perked up, at the idea. I nodded vigorously. Hopefully we would get further, this time…he really needed to open up, more.

“Of course!” I walked into my room, with him close behind. Closing the door softly, behind him, he made his way into the room. I nodded my head, towards the bed, and he sat down. “What’s up?”

“This counseling thing…” he fidgeted, with his hands, and his voice was low. I could tell that his nerves were high and, maybe, to a breaking point. “They made Nick talk…what if they make me talk, too?” Looking up, at me, I could see the worry in his eyes.

“Well…uh…you just talk, Mase. You have to tell him sooner, or later…you might as well get it over with. Just tell him how you feel. He’s been really trying and we can see that from the way he’s been acting. It’s going to be hard and you’re going to be nervous…scared…or both. You know what though? It’s okay to be scared, about this. It’s a big step for all of us, but especially for you and your dad. In the end, it will help, though.” I stood up, making my way over, to him. Sitting next to him, I put an arm around his shoulders.

“I really am scared Baylee. What if…” He let out a deep sigh, staring at the floor.

“What if…what?” I pressed on, wanting him to open up, to me, and let his emotions free. “You know…nothing you say leaves this room.”

“I know…thanks, Baylee. I’m just scared that maybe…if I tell him how I feel…that…he’ll decide that he doesn’t want me, anymore. I mean…I know that I’m not really important, to him…but, I’ve been hoping that this counseling and stuff…maybe it would make him want me again.” Mason sniffled, as tears settled in his eyes. I found myself in a temporary loss, for words.

“Oh, my gosh, Mason.” I finally gasped, not really knowing how to respond. “Your dad loves you…he really does. He’s had a lot of issues, his mind was all clouded, and his priorities were way out of whack. I don’t think there was ever a point where he, honestly, didn’t want you…I guess he just forgot to show you how much he loves you.”

“How can you forget to show someone you love them? How could he forget to want me? Am I really that bad of a son, that he just forgets that stuff? Or maybe he only has that ‘I love him because he’s my son and I have to’ kind of love!” Mason was on his feet, pacing.

“Ask him.”

“I tried so hard! I wanted him to care! I wanted him to love me! Somehow I never really felt like he did.”

“Tell him.”

“I can’t just tell him! Are you crazy?!? I’ll be stuck here forever!” Mason stopped, snapping his head to look at me. “I didn’t mean…it’s not that it’s bad here…I mean…I love you and Nick…I just…I mean…I wouldn’t be stuck, per say…I just meant that…”

“Mason! I understand. I feel stuck sometimes, too…okay…a lot of times. Anyways, I know what you mean. The circumstances are a bid different, but we share a lot of those same feelings. It sucks to feel abandoned. I can only imagine how much worse it is, for you, seeing as it was by choice, on your dad’s part.” I stood up and pulled my little cousin, into a tight hug. After only a moment, I felt him break down. He sobbed into my shoulder, as I sighed, relieved that he was letting it out. Bottling those horrible emotions can tear a kid apart…trust me…I know.

The ride, to the counseling appointment, seemed to take forever, and the car was deathly silent. I sat in the backseat, with Mason, just trying to let him feel that I was there, for him. I didn’t know what else, to do. In my mind…it was time, for me, to be like Morgan. She always knew what to say and how to make me feel better. It was my turn to do that, for Mason. As we approached the tall building, I put an arm around him and gave a reassuring squeeze. He took in a few deep breaths, as we entered, through the doors.