by Alice Ward
“Thirsty,” Jagger gasped, jumping down from some kind of spinning contraption. I led him to the water fountains and held the button as he took long drinks of water.
“Let’s take a rest.”
“No, I wanna keep playing!”
“Just for a minute. If you faint from heatstroke, your mom is going to be super mad at me. I don’t want that.”
Jagger’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, she can get mad. You don’t want your TV time taken away.”
My lips twitched. “No, sir. I don’t.”
Jagger wrapped his fingers around mine, and I guided him to a nearby bench. Pulling himself up onto the bench, he turned to face me, his short legs dangling. “Where do you live?”
“In an apartment in Manhattan. Do you know where Central Park is?”
His face lit up. “That’s where the tiny sail boats are. I love that place.”
“Yep. I live not far from there.”
“You live at the pond?”
“No, but I can walk to it in just a few minutes. I can take you there soon, if you want.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” He scooted closer to me and laid his head against the side of my chest. “I’m glad you found me.”
My heart swelled so much it felt as if it was about to burst. An emotion like none I’d ever experienced rushed through me. I’d loved friends and I’d loved my parents, even though my memories of them grew fuzzier with each passing year. I’d loved Trey, and I’d loved Skye, even if I was too young and stupid to recognize it when things were good. But I’d never loved someone quite the way I now loved this small child. Just a few days of knowing each other and I was wrapped around this boy’s finger. I knew without a doubt that I would do anything for him.
Carefully, I extricated my arm from where it was pressed against my side and wrapped it around my son’s shoulders. “I’m glad I found you too, Jagger.”
“Are you and my mom going to get married?”
I pressed my lips together and took my time formulating an answer. “No,” I carefully said. “It’s not like that with everyone’s parents.”
He pulled away from the crook of my arm and looked up at me. “But all my friends’ parents are married.”
This conversation was getting harder by the minute. I rubbed the back of my neck and forced myself to think faster. “All of them?”
“Uh huh.”
Well, good for them.
“That’s just the kids you know,” I pointed out. “There are actually all kinds of families. Sometimes there’s just a mom or just a dad… or there might be two moms or two dads.”
“Or a mom and a cousin, like with me.”
“Exactly.”
“But now you found us, and you and my mom can get married. My friend Allie said that people have babies when they’re in love, and I know that when you’re in love you get married.”
I fought back simultaneous urges to laugh and cry. If only things were as simple as Jagger thought they were.
“Sometimes it’s that way, yes. But not always.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated… relationships between adults are complicated. You’ll learn more about it as you get older.”
Jagger frowned. “I’m not sure I want to get older. It sounds kinda sucky.”
“Hey.” I touched his shoulder and he looked up at me. “It doesn’t matter what happens between me and your mom. We’re both here for you. We’re going to always take care of you, no matter what. That’s what’s important.”
“Okay. Do you want to play rock-paper-scissors?”
I smiled at the change of subject. “Uh. Sure.”
The way Jagger flipped topics so quickly was still throwing me for a loop. I didn’t have much experience with little kids, and felt like I was stumbling along, just figuring everything out as I went.
“This is how you play,” he instructed, coiling his fingers into a chubby fist. “You say rock, paper, scissors.”
I mimicked his hand gestures. “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”
Just as I put my hand into a flat plane, an explosion filled the air. Energy like lightning shot through me. Without thinking, I threw my arm over Jagger’s shoulders and pushed him onto the ground, covering him with my body.
But it didn’t matter. He was dead. I couldn’t save him. His eyes stared up at me, the pupils already fully blown.
“Jake!” Jagger shrieked. “Jake! You’re hurting me.”
I was back on the playground, my son beneath me, looking up at me with terror on his face. I pushed myself up on my hands and knees, taking my weight off his little body. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Jag. Are you okay?”
Still looking frightened, Jagger huffed and swiped at the dirt on his shorts. “That’s not how you play!”
Over my right shoulder, a garbage truck rumbled by. Another exploding sound hit the air, this one coming from the truck. The tension in my shoulders fell away. I could still feel my heart pounding like a jackhammer, though, and my hands were shaking.
“Sorry,” I apologized, pulling Jagger to his feet. “That sound scared me.”
He looked at the trash truck and then at me, his nose scrunched. “You’re funny. Now are you paying attention?”
I blew out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m paying attention.”
“Okay, this is how you do it...”
He rambled on, giving me an unnecessarily long explanation of the game. My eyes drifted over his head and toward the direction Skye sat. This time, her face wasn’t in a book though. Her head was up and her eyes locked right on me.
I quickly looked away, my frantic pulse returning. The truck backfiring had freaked me out much more than it would any normal, healthy person. Had Skye seen what happened? Did she suspect that something was going on with me?
Something is going on.
I knew I reacted to loud noises in an unnatural way. How the fuck could I not? Some days it seemed that shit was still ringing in my ears. There were some sounds I’d never been able to escape. I’d just carry them with me for the rest of my life.
I couldn’t touch oil because it felt too much like blood. Even the color of red would take me back to that place.
I needed to be more careful. If Skye suspected something was wrong with me, she might become worried. She might cut back on my time with Jagger. I couldn’t risk that. Especially not after having just found him. Our being torn apart would break both of our hearts.
I just needed to watch it. That was all. I could handle this.
I. Was. A. Fucking. Navy. SEAL.
What the hell was wrong with me that I couldn’t handle a damn playground in the middle of the damn day?
I directed all of my focus to the game with Jagger, doing my best to block everything else out. The traffic. The kids and parents around us. If I was going to conquer my freak-outs, I needed all of the self-control I could muster. I needed to have perfect concentration.
I kept my eyes on Jagger’s face and hands. Rock. Paper. Rock. Scissors. Paper. Just him and me.
And the gaze of the woman who would haunt me till the end of time.
CHAPTER TEN
Skye
Present Day…
Jagger whined louder as I unlocked our front door, his cry turning into a falsetto an opera singer would be proud of.
“I… don’t… want to!” he wailed in between high-pitched cries in what must have surely been the champion of all temper tantrums. “I’ll just get dirty again tomorrow and it’s a waste of water. Didn’t you know that there are children in Af… Africa who needs it!”
“Get in the bathtub,” I said in a low, firm voice, hanging my keys on the hook. I’d heard that excuse before.
Jagger flopped on the floor, his body going into the deadweight mode that made it nearly impossible for me to pick him up as he slithered like a snake between my hands. “No! I’m not taking a bath tonight.”
“Jagger Daniel Crawford, you are sweaty and you smell like a wet dog. You are taking a bath.”<
br />
He ground his teeth together and crossed his arms. “No. I’m. Not.”
I looked over my shoulder at where Jake stood in the open doorway. “Well, welcome to parenthood. This is what it’s like.”
I expected a look of fear or maybe even disgust on his face. It was his first time seeing one of Jagger’s fits and nothing about the situation was pretty. Jake just crouched down, though, and looked into Jagger’s face.
“What if I draw you a really special bath?”
Jagger blinked away tears, rubbing his hands under his tired eyes. But he was hooked, curious, I could tell. “What kind of special bath?”
“One with extra bubbles.”
Jagger seemed to consider this. “Okay,” he hiccupped and gave an Academy Award-winning sigh. “But will you read me a book too?”
“While you’re sudsing it up? Sure thing.”
Jagg wasn’t fully convinced. “Do SEALs take baths?”
Jake gave him a solemn nod. “You bet, but we had to take ice baths.”
Jagg looked appalled, making me nearly laugh out loud. “You have got to be kidding me. Why on earth would you do that?” He made an exaggerated brrrr shiver.
“They said it was to toughen us up.”
Jagg looked Jake up and down. “It must have worked real good.”
Jake laughed and rumpled his hair. “Ready for your bath?”
“Warm, right? With bubbles?”
“Absolutely. Kids aren’t allowed to take ice baths until they’re seven.”
Jagger wiped away pretend sweat. “Well, that’s good.” He huffed into a standing position and faced me, lifting his chin, giving me a haughty look that would have rivaled any prince. “All you had to say was extra bubbles and we could have avoided this whole embarrassing thing.” Jake barked out a laugh then snapped his mouth shut when I glared at him. Jagger grabbed his hand. “Come on, Jake. It’s this way. I think Mommy needs a rest.”
Jake glanced my way, and I gave him a weary thumbs-up. Mommy absolutely needed a rest. With a sigh, I followed them to the bathroom and peeked around the corner as Jake made Jagger his special bath. As always, Jagger talked a mile a minute, and I had to cover my mouth when he asked in a loud whisper, “Did the ice bath hurt your pee-pee? Cause I got in a swimming pool that was cold and woo-wee, I thought it was going to fall right off. Later I went to the bathroom and it was gone”
Hand still over my mouth, I tiptoed down the hall and called out, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
Once there, though, I couldn’t sit still. Cadence was out at a work event. With Jake giving Jagger his bath and no one to talk to, I felt at a loss. I got busy cleaning up some of the clutter in the small space and preheating the oven for dinner. Making my hands move made me feel semi-better.
Before long, Jagger was in the doorway, his damp hair brushed to the side and pajamas on. “This is how SEAL men wear their hair,” he announced.
I laughed. “Is that so? Well, I have to say, you’re the SEALest-looking boy I’ve ever seen.”
Jake emerged from behind him. “I should be going.”
A lump formed in my throat. The day before had been such an awful one, but having Jake nearby and visiting with Jagger was actually perfect, even with the craziness of Jagg’s tantrum. There was no room for our own personal drama because we hadn’t left any space for there to be. His presence, albeit slightly removed, was extremely comforting.
“All right,” I said, my tongue feeling thick. “Maybe you guys can get together later this week?”
“Sounds great.”
Jagger pushed his bottom lip out. Before he could complain, I interrupted him. “He has to go, Jaggy-poo. He has things to...”
A big boom cut me off. Out of the corner of my eye, Jake noticeably jerked. A lot. The color also drained from his face. Jagger didn’t seem to notice it, just ran to the sliding door and looked out into the yard, where big drops of rain were falling. “A lightning storm!”
I discreetly watched Jake. He had started to sweat, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. I hadn’t forgotten the way he reacted at the playground just a couple hours before. A simple truck backfiring had caused a very unusual reaction. No, not just unusual. Scary. But before I could even get up from the bench, the whole scene was over and Jake and Jagg were laughing about it. My heart had been pounding. Could he have hurt Jagger by throwing himself on top of him that way? Two hundred pounds versus fifty wasn’t much of a match. But Jagg had seemed fine, so I’d decided to watch more closely. The way I was watching Jake now.
Jake and I still hadn’t gotten around to talking about his time in the SEALs. For the first day since crossing paths again, I wondered if there was a dark story connected to his time served. Well, not if. It was clear there was a dark story, maybe several. Now, I wondered just how bad it had been.
I’d learned a fair amount about PTSD in the courses I’d taken at the city college. One of the biggest giveaways was the way a person reacted to loud noises. There was also avoidance of others, which was what he seemed to be doing right now as he inched toward the door. What he had done six years ago.
Avoidance.
Assumption of guilt that he couldn’t save a person.
The belief that it should have been he who died or was hurt instead — survivor’s guilt.
Was that why he left so many years ago? Was it less about me than I’d previously thought? Was it the belief that he shouldn’t be happy if Trey couldn’t be? His parents? How far did it go back?
It was something to consider.
Boom!
Jake jerked but no more than I did when the lightning strike hit this time. My hand went to my chest and Jagger shrieked and practically climbed up Jake like he was a monkey bar. “That was close!” Jagg announced when he was perched high on his father’s shoulder.
“Hey,” I said above the loud attack of rain. “Why don’t we invite Jake to stay for dinner?”
“Yes!” Jagger looked down at his father. “Will you stay? Huh? We can eat together and everything. Mommy cooks real good, ‘specially her lasagna. It’s fantabulous.”
Jake smiled up at him. “Sure, bud. I haven’t had lasagna in a long time, especially the fantabulous kind.”
Jagger wiggled down off his dad, then catapulted himself onto the couch headfirst, performing a pretty athletic-looking flip. “Yes! My dad is staying. Yes! Yes! Yes!”
I stepped closer to Jake as he sat and murmured, “Was that okay that I asked?”
He tilted his head up just enough so that we could connect eyes. “Sure,” he answered, then swiftly turned away.
Yep. There was definitely something going on.
“Great. I’ll get the lasagna ready.”
“Need some help?”
“No, thanks. I have it.” I forced myself to smile at him. Just talking was still hard. Every time I looked at Jake, I felt myself being pulled in multiple directions, my heart being torn up by my competing emotions.
I fixed dinner while Jagger showed Jake his room. I could hear their muffled talk and Jagger’s excited laughter as I tossed a salad and set the table. The experience felt like something from a dream. In my weakest moments, I’d allowed myself to imagine what life would look like if things had worked out between me and Jake. And now here we were, for one brief evening the perfect picture of domestic normalcy. It both filled my heart with joy and broke it, all the happiness spilling into a sea of loneliness and confusion.
The thunderstorm continued as we ate dinner, with the rain just getting worse. By the time Jagger’s bedtime rolled around, I was starting to wonder if all of Brooklyn might flood. As per Jagger’s request, Jake helped me put him to bed. Thanks to the excitement of the day, he was out after one book. I turned on his dolphin night-light, and Jake and I tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind us.
“It’s still crazy out there,” I commented as I glanced out the living room sliding door. “Feel free to wait until the rain stops.
”
I was giving him an opportunity to tell me that it wasn’t the rain that worried him. He didn’t take it though. He just sat on the end of the couch and nodded.
“Tea?”
“Sure.”
I hurried into the kitchen, happy to have another task to give myself over to. I took my time heating water and selecting mugs. Normally, I would have offered a guest a glass of wine or a beer, but things were different with Jake. Given our track record, it was probably best if we both remained completely sober.
When I could think of no more excuses for staying in the kitchen, I brought the two mugs of steaming tea into the living room and set them on the coffee table. Taking a seat on the floor across from Jake, I crossed my legs and busied myself with braiding my hair. I felt Jake’s eyes on me. When I turned to him, though, he looked out the window.
“Where did you go?” I asked. “When you were with the SEALs.”
I was testing the waters, giving him space to open up to me. If I was right about my PTSD suspicions, it wasn’t likely that he’d admit to it all at once. Knowing Jake, he could even be in denial. But the scars on his body couldn’t be denied.
“The Philippines, and then Iraq. Afghanistan. Other places.”
“And you got back a few months ago?”
“Right.”
“Why didn’t you go on another deployment? You’re retired now, right?”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. I’d struck a sore spot. “I figured it was time for me to get home.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it also wasn’t my place to press. I simply nodded and blew on my tea. Jake and I fell into more silence as the rainstorm outside raged on.
“Something happened there.”
We’d sat in silence for so long I wondered if I’d imagined the words.
“Something?” I pressed carefully, softly exploring the shaky ground.
Jake looked at his lap. “There was an explosion.”
