27
Emily
Roy says the minimum amount to Jake and nothing at all to me. Other than that the days pass as normal. Today, we are laying Jake's father to rest. I'm in a simple, knee length black dress, sitting in Jake's living room, waiting. He's upstairs with Drake, getting ready.
Footsteps sound on the stairs. I stand and turn to look. I've never seen my boys so sad. Jake gives me a small smile as I head towards them. Jake wanted to drive himself, so we gather inside my car since it's easier to get in and out. He drives us to the cemetery across town where the service will be held.
“Can we see Mom first?” Drake asks from behind me.
“Sure thing,” Jake replies, his voice strained. I take the hand he has resting on his knee over to my thigh as I hold it. Based on what Jake has told me, Drake hasn't asked to go by her grave and rarely speaks of her. My heart aches for the sadness that is consuming the atmosphere of the car.
With a hand in each of mine, I'm in the middle of two brothers. We're standing in front of a grave, with beautiful engraving and fresh flowers sitting in front.
“Dad must bring them,” Jake mutters.
“Jake, do you think Mom looks down on us from heaven?” Drake asks after a minute of silence.
“Yes, buddy, I do.”
“Good.”
“C'mon. It's time,” Jake says, tugging us over where his dad will be buried. People are slowly starting to arrive and I stand with Jake and Drake as people hug Jake, giving condolences, skip me, and repeat with Drake. Never does either of their hands leave mine. The boys give one armed hugs instead. Next, we take our seats at the front with Roy and his wife and children sitting behind us. Everyone else that arrives, mostly people who knew Mr. Benson and worked with him, stand behind us. I almost cry when I see Coach and Jake's high school team show up. I'm pretty sure Jake has the same reaction.
Jake has my hand in a death grip as the pastor begins to speak. Drake's hand is shaking, and I glance over at him. He's trying so hard to be strong, but as soon as the pastor says something about what Mr. Benson left behind, Drake turns towards me and starts sobbing. Letting go of Jake's hand, I wrap this little boy in a hug. My own tears fall at how mournful Drake is. It doesn't surprise me, but it still throws me off my kilter. I've never seen a child this upset before, I guess.
“It's going to be okay,” I whisper into Drake's hair.
At my words, Drake pulls away from me and in a flash, runs off. Jake stands, but my father lays a hand on his shoulder and turns to go after Drake. Reluctantly, Jake sits back down and reclaims my hand. He doesn't look anywhere but at the black, sleek casket. It pains me to see him so troubled.
Everything stops as we hear Drake's yelling.
“No! No, no, no, no! I want my Mom!” he screams at Dad.
Jake bolts over to him and wraps him in a tight hug, but Drake pushes him away. I'm only a step behind Jake and Drake pushes past Jake and runs to me. Slightly confused, I hug him to me as Jake looks on with a hurt expression.
“Why'd they leave me?” Drake whispers so only I can hear.
“They didn't want to, I promise. Everything will be okay, alright? You've got me, Jake, and Mr. Mike. We're all here for you.”
“Promise you and Jake won't leave me?”
“We promise, don't we, Jake?”
“Absolutely,” he answers, hugging us together in a sandwich. “Are you up for the rest of the ceremony?”
“I just want to go home,” Drake answers.
“Alright. Let's go.” Jake turns to my dad. “Will you take care of things here?”
“Of course.”
Jake huddles us to the car and soon we are leaving the dreaded funeral behind. Back at Jake's, Drake stares mindlessly at the cartoons playing on the TV. Jake and I are in the kitchen, and I watch as Jake paces.
“I've never seen him like that,” he grumbles softly.
“He's a kid who lost both his parents. How do you expect him to react?”
“That's not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I wonder aloud.
Jake runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I don't know.”
Jake, he's wound up so tight that it scares me. I want to give him a hug, loosen those muscles of his, but I'm nervous. Will he accept it? Does he want it? Oh, forget it. He's mine and I want to comfort him.
“Jake,” I say, walking over to him. He turns to face me and I wrap him in a hug. Maybe it's my imagination or wishful thinking, but ever so slowly he relaxes.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my neck as he nuzzles it.
“I love you,” I say just as soft.
“I love you too. Always. Thank you,” he repeats, holding me tightly.
“Y'all quit lovin' on each other and come watch TV with me.”
We laugh at Drake's peering face over the top of the couch and make our way to him.
“Scoot down,” Jake instructs so that he's in the middle and I can sit beside him. Of course, I cuddle up to him, tucking my legs underneath me and to the side. He wraps a more muscular arm around my shoulders. It's then that I feel how his body is next to mine.
“You're getting more muscles,” I say, leaning away from him to get a better look. How did I not notice that my man's shoulders are broader and his arms a little thicker?
“It's from practicing and working out like crazy.”
When has he been practicing? We're together, for the most part, and I don't remember him going off to practice.
“When?”
“We'll talk about it later.”
Oh, okay. He must not want Drake to know about whatever it is. Jake gives me a sly smile, and I take in his features. His eyes are sad and exhausted. He's been looking exhausted for days now. With a mental sigh, I cuddle against him and watch TV. It's not ten minutes later, that Jake's head rolls to the side, landing on top of mine, and a snore emanates from his full lips.
“What a loser,” Drake jokes.
“He's been tired,” I say.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe he'll sleep off all his tiredness.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Night falls and Drake's stomach makes a loud grumble. Laughing, we disturb Jake from his sleep. He looks between us, puzzled.
“You snore,” Drake laughs.
“I do not,” Jake says with a shake of his head.
“Love, you so snore.”
Jake raises an eyebrow at me and chuckles. “So do you.”
My jaw hits the floor and I hit Jake on the arm. “I do not!”
“It's a soft snore. It's cute.”
“Jake, it's not good to lie, especially in front of your brother.” I can't believe he would say I snore! Even if I do, and I'm sure I don't, he doesn't have to tell me!
“Scouts honor,” he says, showing the hand gesture and everything.
“You weren't a scout,” Drake inputs.
Jake gives a non-menacing glare to Drake.
“Anyways,” he drags out, “I'm hungry,” Drake finishes, looking at me again, causing a fit of giggles to overcome me.
“What's so funny?”
“Nothing, love. What do y'all want to eat? I'll cook.”
Drake scrunches his nose and looks over at Jake, who keeps his face a blank slate.
“What?” I finally ask when it's apparent that neither are bringing forth answers.
“Does she cook when y'all are in Charlotte?” Drake asks, directing his question to Jake, who nods.
“I'm sorry.”
Again, it's like I'm not even in the room. “What's going on? Jake? Drake?”
“I'm sorry, Emily, but unless it comes in a box, you can't cook it,” Drake confesses. “Scratch that. If it's not mac and cheese, you suck.”
“That's not true. I cook for y'all all the time and y'all both eat it.”
“Sweetness,” Jake begins and I can see where he is going with this by the hint of sadness in his eyes.
“Oh no, Jake. I can cook. You love my cooking.”
Then it clicks. He always eats out, if he can. “To avoid making you have to dirty up dishes,” he says. This doesn't make sense. I eat my food. It's not that bad. It's good. Dad eats it too. What the hell? I hit Jake on the arm once more and storm off to the kitchen. I'll show them just how great I can cook. I'll fix spaghetti. I mean, who can mess up spaghetti? Like really?
“Sweetness? Whatcha doing?”
I ignore him. I'm fuming. If I can't cook, then why didn't someone say something before now? Because Drake realized this is what he's going to have to eat in Chicago? Seriously? I can't believe this! How am I not a good cook when everyone eats what I fix? Ugh! These thoughts replay in my mind as I cook the meal.
“Oh no, she's really going at it,” Drake comments from beside Jake. They are standing in the threshold of the kitchen, watching me not so silently. They've been making comments the entire time.
“Do you think it'll be better this time?” Drake asks.
“I don't think you're helping, buddy. She works hard at this, but will it pay off?” he adds after a pause.
“Who's helping now, Jake?”
“Hush.”
It goes back and forth. Jake tries his best not to make comments, but it slips out every now and then. I'm furious and praying that this meal is downright delicious. With grace, I set the pot on the table and stand back with my hand on my hips. I'm not even hungry anymore. They took my appetite and stomped it to death. Tentatively, the boys take a seat at the table and scoop noodles and sauce onto their plates. They take their time, sprinkling on the Parmesan cheese.
Finally, they each take a bite simultaneously. I watch Drake carefully, because let's be honest. If anyone is going to immediately show facial expressions, it's going to be Drake. Slightly, his nose scrunches just the tiniest bit.
I've failed.
My shoulders slump and Jake stands to come towards me as he was watching me.
“Don't.”
Quietly, I leave them in the kitchen and head up to Jake's room. I close the door softly and crawl into his bed. If only I could sleep. This isn't something I want to think about right now. It's not a situation that I want to dwell on. But who am I kidding? I am who I am and that means I'm going to worry.
How can I ever be a good wife, mother, anything, if I can't cook? What are we going to do? Eat out all the time? That's expensive. We can't sustain on macaroni and cheese for the rest of our lives either. Maybe the most important question is how did I mess up spaghetti? It's so simple and I ruined it. Why do the women cook most of the time anyway?
Suddenly, there's a creak coming from the bed as weight is pressed onto it. Jake. I know without looking that it's him. He's come to make me feel better, but I don't want his comfort. Right?
“Sweetness, it's fine.”
“No, it's not, Jake.” I roll over to look at him. “How can I step into the role of a wife if I can't cook?! I can't believe y'all. You should have told me sooner. Then I would know that it isn't worth trying.”
“What isn't worth trying?” he asks calmly.
“I don't know. Jake, I feel like I've failed.”
“It's just cooking, Sweetness. All your other attributes makes up for your lack of skill in the kitchen. Trust me, in the grand scheme of things, you have succeeded.”
As if knowing exactly what I wanted and needed, Jake pulls me up and hugs me, kissing my cheek as well.
“When have you been practicing?” I ask now that we are alone, and I have his attention.
Jake sighs and replies, “At night. I've been having trouble sleeping, so I leave and go to rink.”
I don't like the thought of Jake leaving me in my sleep, but there is a more pressing matter at this time. “Why haven't you woken me up?”
“Sweetness, I'm not going to do that. My technique is working so far. It's fine.” There's a finality in his tone, and I know not to argue further.
For now.
“C'mon, let's go downstairs. Drake wants pizza.”
Jake leads me down the steps and into the living room.
“I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Emily,” Drake says timidly.
“Not at all, Drake. You could never hurt my feelings.”
He smiles and turns his attention back to the television. Jake grabs his phone and orders pizza once we have taken a seat. No words are spoken as we watch TV and wait on the food. My mind is in shambles. We have so much that is going to happen. We've got to transfer schools, find a place, get Drake situated and so much more. It's truly overwhelming. The doorbell rings and Jake is off to answer the door because the delivery guy is here.
I just don't know how we are going to handle it all. Roy isn't going to be any help because of our decisions. Dad's going to be back here and we're going to be in a new town trying to start anew once more. Doubt creeps in and I wonder how it's all going to work. How will it ever work? Is this what I have in store for my future? Taking care of Drake, moving where Jake is playing, and having to start fresh each time? Am I really prepared for this? I take a deep breath and calm down. One thing at a time, right?
Prepared or not, I've got to deal with it. No. Jake and I will handle any bumps along the way together. I want this to work and that means I'm going to have put forth the effort to make it work. Jake returns from getting the pizza from the delivery guy, sets the box on the table, and pops it open. It's like vultures on a dead body, attacking at once. It's delicious though.
“What's the matter?” Jake asks between bites, giving me a sideways glance.
“Just thinking.”
“Oh.”
After dinner, it's late enough that we are all exhausted. It's been a long day and we need to rest. I climb into Jake's bed while he tucks Drake into bed. My eyes are heavy and begin to fall when I hear Jake enter. I listen as he removes his shirt and it falls to the floor, followed by his pants. Then he's in bed, pulling me to him.
“You're worried,” he says quietly, playing with my hair.
“Aren't you?”
“Of course. I know this is going to be a lot on you and I appreciate everything you are doing for me.”
I cut him off. “I'm doing it for us and Drake.”
“Either way, I'm thankful. There's no way I could do this without you.”
I roll over and nuzzle into his neck. I'm not just worried. I'm extremely worried.
28
Jake
For the first time in weeks, I slept through the night. I didn't have to leave and go practice or workout to calm my nerves. Morning is here and I'm the only one awake. Emily's soft hair is intertwined with my fingers and my only thought is how I don't want to think. I've got less than a week before I leave and all I want to focus on is that. Without disturbing Emily, I reach over to my nightstand and grab my phone.
I text Todd, an old hockey friend of mine, to see if he wants to practice with me today. I can't keep running drills by myself. I need some competition to keep that side in shape as well. Todd's reply is almost instant. Of course, he will play. He even goes as far as saying that he'll get some of the guys together for a scrimmage-like game.
“Sweetness,” I say with a slight shake of her shoulder.
“Mmm.”
“I'm going to play with the guys. Mind keeping Drake?”
“That's fine,” she mumbles and rolls over, away from me.
Out of bed, I go and get ready. Soon, I'm at the rink, meeting with the guys.
“About time you got here. If you're going to be playing with the NHL, we need to get you in shape,” Todd says with a slap on the back.
“I am in shape,” I laugh.
Todd rolls his eyes and skates away. “Let's get this started boys,” he yells, getting into position. The guys fall in line and soon a game is underway. The guys push me to my limits and try new things on me. We play for a long time before we finally take a break.
Sitting on a bench, Todd plops down beside me.
“I'm sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks
.” I take a swig of water.
“How are things with you and Emily?”
“Alright. Could be better, could be worse.”
“You finally asked her, huh.” Todd looks over at me, a grin on his face.
“Yeah, I did,” I smile.
“What's bugging you then?”
“Life, man. Life.” I stand up and return to the ice. “Let's play.”
Hours later, I return home to find Emily and Drake watching TV. I grabbed dinner on the way home, burgers, and we watch TV and eat. Things are awfully quiet around here, but I don't comment on it. All eyes are on the TV but mine are on Emily. She's leaning away from me, twirling her hair, watching TV. Her mouth a thin line.
Instead of asking what's wrong, I lean over and kiss the side of her neck. Momentarily, she smiles at me then turns her attention to the TV. Once this episode ends, I tell Drake that it's time for him to head to bed. He gives us both a tight hug, running upstairs afterwards. Leaning forward, Emily grabs the remote from the coffee table and powers off the television.
“Bedtime for us too?” she grins at me.
Chuckling, I nod. Sweetness heads upstairs while I lock the front door and turn off all the lights on my way up. The stairs creak with every other step and reminds me that it's just us now. Soon, it'll be time to clear out dad's things and figure out other details, like what's going to happen to the house. My shoulders become heavy with the responsibility I face. Each step is achingly dragging behind me, begging for things to return to normal.
The door to Drake's room opens silently as I peek in to check on him. His covers are hiding half of his face as he sleeps. I swear, sometimes it only takes five seconds for that kid to fall asleep. Satisfied that my little brother is safe and sound, I cross the hall to my room. Sweetness is in the bathroom brushing her teeth, only wearing a long t-shirt of mine. As I watch her, I undress and toss my clothes into the hamper. The shirt hitches as she leans over to spit and rinse her mouth. I trudge over to my bathroom just as she wipes her lips.
“Scoot,” I quietly command.
She moves over and opens one of my drawers as I start the process of brushing my own teeth. Through the mirror, I watch. Her eyes are focused on the drawer and her hands are rummaging through it as quickly as possible. Finding what she's looking for, she turns away and closes the drawer with her hip before bending over. It's quite a feat to ignore the urge to come up behind her, grab her hips, and pull her to me. Gathering her hair, Sweetness puts her hair up in a bun.
Always (Bold as Love) Page 11
