by S. L. Scott
“Jet got me a table. I can do drawings on it, and I don’t have to clean up my mess on it.”
Glancing up at Jet, I catch his eyes already on me. I turn my attention back to Alfie. “That’s great, but you know how fast a mess can get out of hand if you let it.”
“Yeah, I already cleaned my room, except the table.” Jumping up, he asks, “Will you cook ramen with me?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’m here, chef.”
Although I know Jet’s brothers don’t live here, I almost expected them to be here all the time, hanging out, drinking and eating together. I like that it’s just the three of us. While Jet’s grating ginger and the carrot, I’m put in charge of boiling two eggs and mincing garlic. Alfie is opening the yakisoba noodles.
Jet’s cutting board is almost bumped up to mine while we work side by side like a team. What would it be like to cook like this every night? Just the three of us? A team. I glance up at him quickly but am caught. One you’re-so-busted eyebrow is raised at me, and I look away with a smile on my face.
Not two seconds later, his shoe is against the side of mine, and I’m not in a hurry to move.
Dinner is delicious, but I wonder if a noodle soup can tide Jet over through a gig, though. “Are you still hungry?”
“No, I’m good for now,” he says, looking content.
I stand. “Very well. I can clean the dishes. Why don’t you two dig into the donuts?”
“Yay!” Alfie hops off the barstool and grabs the box from the kitchen counter and runs into the living room. “Jet said there’s a game on. Can we eat in front of the TV?”
He never cared about sports before, but living in the lion’s den will rub off in many ways. Alfie’s waiting for me to answer, but it’s not right if I do. I look at Jet and then turn back. “Your house. Your rules.”
“Go on, little man,” he says. “I’ll be right there.”
The TV turns on, and Jet comes to stand next to me at the sink. “It must be hard to hand off a role you’ve had for so long. I’m sorry you’ve been put in the middle.”
Focusing on the plate in my hand, I run the soapy sponge over it and scrub. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You didn’t create this situation. Anyway, I’m exactly where I want to be, so you don’t need to worry about me.”
He’s close. So close I can feel his presence overshadowing me from behind. I don’t look back, and I don’t continue the conversation. Not more than ten or so seconds tick by before I can breathe again.
I look up and watch him sit next to Alfie on the couch. While taking a bite of donut, Jet looks up. We exchange a little smile when our eyes meet in a silent but peaceful surrender. I smile before finishing the dishes and letting a son and his dad share donuts for dessert. Seven rolls around too soon.
Wired on sugar, Alfie’s running laps around the backyard while we look on and laugh. Jet says, “I’m thinking about getting him a trampoline. Mom used to send us outside to jump on ours even if it was raining. She’d call us wild and tell us to release some energy. It used to work for us. Any thoughts?”
“That makes sense. What about waiting for a week, though? He’s only been with you one day, and it probably feels like he’s on vacation or having a sleepover. I can’t deny he’s taken to you quickly, but he’s used to a certain routine. I worry how he’ll adapt after a normal day when you’re there and not me. If there’s one thing Cassie showed me in how she parented Alfie, it was not to indulge unnecessarily. If you think a trampoline will make this transition easier, then get one. He’s happy in the present, but I want to make sure he’s happy in the long run.”
“He’s never looked at me like I’m a stranger.” He pulls a cigarette and lighter from his shirt pocket and lights up. There’s no breeze tonight, and the smoke fills the air around us.
Just as I close my eyes to inhale him into my lungs, he waves it off. “Sorry about that. I need to quit.” Signaling toward Alfie, he looks regretful. “He’s already told me he wants me to. I might give it a try.”
“He’s having a good influence on you.” I grin and tap his side with my elbow. “About time someone did.”
I like the smile I receive in return, the tension missing from his jaw. “We had a good day.” He drops the barely smoked cigarette to the cement patio and snubs it out with his shoe. Picking it up, he tosses the remains in a bucket full of sand and butts. “I had a good day because of him.”
“He has that effect.” I’m tempted to tell him that’s how he makes me feel but don’t. He’s making it awfully hard to keep my guard up since I realized he’s not my enemy. With each passing hour we spend together, I’m starting to believe that he just might be my ally.
10
Hannah
Cassie was an amazing mom.
She read to him every night until her last day. She loved spending any time she could with him. I relate. I love him like he’s my own.
After reading two books to Alfie and having him read the third, he fell asleep in the middle. Kneeling on the floor, I rest my head on the bed while he sleeps. The room is quiet, and my body relaxes. It would be easy to let my worries fade away and fall asleep in the peace of the room.
Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute. I’m about to close them when I hear a light strum from the living room. I’m not home, I remind myself. I can’t get too comfortable although it would be so easy to do so. Pushing myself up, I lean down and kiss Alfie’s head. “I love you,” I whisper, and then sneak out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Standing in the hall, I’m not sure if I should make a show of my presence or walk out unannounced. I look a little farther down the hall and see his bedroom light on. Taking a few steps, I peek in. I feel almost guilty spying like this when he’s not back here, but I just want to see the scene of the crime from that night.
I can’t even kid myself when it comes to being with him too many months ago. It was the best sex I’d ever had. The bed is messy, the sheet tangled, but it looks the same—some clothes on the floor, miscellaneous items from money to cologne on the dresser, and the blinds cracked open even though it’s dark outside.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Ack!” My hands fly to my chest. “Oh, my God.” I squeal too loud and then try to rein in my thundering heart, hoping I didn’t wake Alfie. Whacking Jet on the arm, I say, “You scared the hell out of me, Jet.”
“Sorry about that.” He chuckles but ends up with that same smirk on his face as the night I fell for his lines and right into his bed. “But really, what are you doing in my bedroom? Reminiscing?”
I ignore the way he’s raised one of his eyebrows like he just busted me doing something that might be a compliment to him. I refuse to give his ego a boost. “I thought I heard a noise. I guess it was just you playing guitar.” He doesn’t need to know that he’s right. Ugh. I can already imagine that smile curling up at the sides. Nope. I will not give him the satisfaction.
“Noise?” Jerking back, he replaces his look of offense with narrowed eyes and a look of determination on his face. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I think you were spying on me to gather information to use against me.”
Remembering how close we are to Alfie’s bedroom door, I grab Jet by the upper arm and pull him toward the living room. As soon as we round the corner, I reply, “I didn’t come over here to spy on you. I was invited. And don’t call me sweetheart.”
“From what I remember—”
“I don’t care what you remember. This relationship is strictly platonic.”
His gaze slides down to my hand, which I still have firmly wrapped around his incredibly sexy and strong bicep. I drop my hand to my side quickly and send a quick prayer to the heavens that my cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel. “Starting now.”
“Have it your way, sweet—Hannah.” He walks to the front door and opens it. Standing just outside on the porch, he says, “Maybe we should hang out here so we don’t wake Alfie. I have some time to kill,
and I need to tune my guitar.”
I go out but leave the door cracked. “The swing looks inviting. Do you mind?”
“Make yourself at home.”
Sitting on the rustic swing, I don’t worry about it breaking. The paint may be peeling, but I can tell by the bolts and structure it’s built to last. Pushing off, I watch as he sits on the edge of a lawn chair and messes with a guitar string. He glances up, catching me watching him, and asks, “You heard of the band, The Resistance?”
“Of course.”
Something changes in his eyes, an excitement seen as well as heard in his voice. “They want to sign us to a recording deal.”
I drag my feet, bringing the swing to a halt. “What? No way!”
“We were sent the contracts today.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He strums mindlessly, but it’s music to my ears. Talent comes naturally to him. “I haven’t looked over it since I was out most of the day.”
“You think you’ll sign?”
“I want to, but there are other things to consider.”
Kicking off with my feet, I say, “Alfie.”
Turning his attention back to the guitar, he nods. “I think like most guys, I’ve had thoughts about how I would feel if a girl told me she was pregnant and how I would react.” Another strum, then his palm goes flat, cutting off the sound.
I’ve had the same thoughts if I got pregnant and how I would handle it. “How would you react?”
I like the way he looks into my eyes when he talks to me. I’ve seen him do it to others. For as much as I want to consider him a rebel musician who can be easily judged as irresponsible, Jet’s not like that. He’s respectful, and I’ve never heard him say a mean word. Granted, I’m not around him all the time, but as an observer, he’s different from my ex by a million miles and a few years of maturity.
He replies, “I would’ve been there however the mom needed or wanted. I’d support her the best I could. I would never walk away from my kid, though. You were told otherwise. I just don’t know why.”
Neither do I. What would she gain by lying about something so important? Cassie struggled financially. I think Jet would have helped if he had known. This is such a mess. I wish I knew what to believe.
I may never know the truth. The sincerity in his eyes makes me want to believe him, but if I do, am I betraying Cassie and Aunt Eileen?
My rambling thoughts are cut off when he says, “I understand you’re caught in the middle and stuck with me when it comes to Alfie. You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you give me a chance to show you who I am and not just believe what you’re told.”
“What are the chances out of all the people in Austin, we hooked up only to find ourselves pitted against each other six months later?”
We’ll never truly get answers to how the world works, but I wish I could get a little insight into why I was put in the middle of this complicated mess.
Jet sets his guitar down and joins me on the swing. We swing back and forth a few times before he says, “I’m not going to talk about the sex that night because you get all flustered—”
“I do not.”
“You do. Like now. Your cheeks turn red, and you look at me with little lusty memories filling your head.”
So what if he’s right. I’ll never cop to it. Bumping against him, I take my annoyance out on him. Is it sad that I’m not really annoyed and acting like a fifth grader hitting the guy I like?
Like?
I can’t like Jet Crow.
Nothing good will come of it.
There’s no denying good has already come from it. No confession will change the circumstances, though. I’m not supposed to like him or maybe I’m not allowed to like him without feeling like I’m a traitor to my family.
He’s laughing lightly. When it subsides, he adds, “I was going to say that besides the sex you can’t stop thinking about, we had more than just a physical connection.”
“Jet,” I caution before we end up in a downward spiral of emotions we won’t know how to escape. “We shouldn’t talk about things we can’t change.”
“Why can’t we change things?”
“Alfie needs us. He’s so at ease with you already, but I have to focus on his well-being and what’s best for him.”
“Fine. We’ll talk about Alfie.” His tone flips to match his expression—hard lines across his brow and tight jaw as he gazes into the distance.
I want his eyes back on me. I want to ease those lines, smoothing them with care, like I’d want to do with our relationship. I’m close to going inside, worried it doesn’t matter what I say or do. We’re always going to be stuck in this purgatory. It’s best just to face it and accept that this is it between us. “He’s a great kid.”
“The best.” His shoulders appear to bear the same burdens, but like me, he fights his way back to what this is—reality. A small smile finally shines through the darkness. “It was fascinating to watch him today. His mind zooms from one thing to the next. He’s all over the place and smart.”
“So smart. Before I came to stay with them, he was already so self-sufficient. Cassie had been sick for a few years, and in the time before she got too weak, she taught him to take care of himself.”
“He made his cereal before I woke up.”
“If you’re not careful, he’ll have you convinced he can do anything and that he’s a regular adult.”
Understanding crosses his expression. “I can see that. I’ll make sure to keep him six as long as I can.”
Playing along, I say, “I promise to do the same.”
“You’ve done a lot for him, Hannah. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I love him.”
“I know you do. He loves you, too. He talks about you all the time. I definitely have a lot to live up to.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s happy to have a dad in his life. You’re new.”
“And shiny?”
I agree. “It’s hard to compete with shiny.”
“There’s no one to compete with.” He nudges me. “You’re his Hannah. When I become the bad guy and he gets in trouble, you can swoop in and be the fun one.”
“He has Tulsa for that.”
“True.” I start laughing with her. It feels good to laugh this hard.
“The truth is, I’m not sure where I fit in anymore.”
He touches my hand. “Right here, Hannah.”
The sincerity of his words is sharp like arrows to my heart, reawakening every part of me to what’s right in front of me. “With you?”
“For Alfie,” he says quieter, all signs of the laughter I love to hear gone.
“Of course. Yeah.” I stand from the swing, my foolish heart about to beat out of my chest. “That’s what I meant.” I lie, trying to cover for my wrong assumption. I let hope tempt me down a path I knew better to travel. “You should probably get going.”
The squeak of the swing gets my attention. When I look back, he’s still sitting there, patting the spot I vacated seconds before. “I have a little time. Swing with me, Hannah.”
He’s enticing, but I think I should resist the offer after embarrassing myself not even a minute earlier. “I have some research I need to get back to.”
Pressing the heels of his shoes against the cement, the swing comes to a full stop. “What kind of research?”
“Nosy much?” I quirk an eyebrow and crack a smile.
“Yes. I’m very nosy when it comes to you.”
His words are harmless, nothing more than a flirtation, but he’s not laughing like I am. We’re not in the same place we once were, so I can’t fall under his spell . . . not again. I’ll keep my heart in check and my tone all business. “I didn’t expect to move here permanently when I came to Austin to help with Alfie. I’ve been here seven months and burned through my savings.”
“You need a job?”
“Yes.” Shifting, I lean against
the doorframe. “With this new arrangement in place . . .” My heart clenches and my eyes burn with tears I haven’t had time to cry. “And Cassie passing, I need to figure out my next step.”
Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs, he clasps his hands together and looks up. “Can I ask you something, Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you the one fighting for Alfie and not Eileen?”
Cassie’s wish versus my aunt’s demands. Just thinking about my and Eileen’s fights has my hands sweating from anxiety. “It’s complicated.”
He looks down and nods. “Okay.” Pushing up off the swing, he says, “I need to get ready to leave soon.”
When he’s only a few inches away, his heat emanates as it blankets me in the subtle scent of his cologne, his breath has a faint smell of Marlboro cigarettes and spearmint gum.
My body freezes, my heart stopping, my breath catching under the intense soul-shattering gaze as he drinks me in and then shifts to the side. “Do you mind?” he asks with a sly smile.
I can’t look away, caught up in him. “Huh?”
“The door. Can I open the door?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply not understanding.
When he laughs, he says, “Hannah, you’re blocking the door.”
Blocking the door . . . Oh! “Ohhh, sorry.” I move out of the way and let him by. Inwardly, I roll my eyes at myself. Ugh. So embarrassing.
Just inside the house, he stops and looks back. “Sometimes I see that same woman I met all those months ago. Your eyes are just as sad, but every so often, I see the blue shine through. It’s a good look for you.”
And without much effort on his part, my heart leaps through that doorway and becomes putty right in his hands again.
He’s right, though. I am sad. I’m sad that I met him when I did, when there was no chance of it becoming more. I’m sad because I lost my cousin to a cruel, painful disease. I’m sad because her little boy won’t have her in his life forever. But Alfie has Jet, and for that? I’m not sad at all. Alfie has a good man who will love him selflessly, and I can’t feel anything but thankful for that.
