It felt surreal to be going as a father figure now. But in a good way.
He tried not to worry about the fact that the event must be some kind of sporting activity. He’d always been athletic, and as long as they stuck to the basics, like basketball, he’d be fine.
He let Jackson lead the way to the front doors, then made him pause for a photo. “Your mom made me promise to take lots of pictures. Say ‘fun.’”
Defiance sparked across Jackson’s face. “She’s not my mom.”
“She is.” Austin injected authority into his voice, the same way he had on the rare occasions he’d had to deal with insubordination among his men. “And she cares about you very much. I don’t know if you realize this, but that’s not the easiest thing to find in this world. You should be thankful for her.”
He snapped the picture and texted it to Leah, hoping it was dark enough that she wouldn’t notice Jackson’s petulant expression.
“I don’t need anyone to care about me.”
Austin stopped in front of the boy, laying a hand on his shoulder. “That might be what you tell yourself. But we all need someone to care about us.”
“Whatever.” Jackson shrugged out of his grip. “You’re not my dad.”
The words shouldn’t have cut at Austin the way they did. He knew he wasn’t Jackson’s dad and that he never would be. But that didn’t lessen the sting.
“No, I’m not.” He kept his voice even. “But I am your friend. And as your friend, I’m telling you―”
Jackson pushed through one of the building’s glass doors, letting it swing shut behind him. Austin grabbed it just in time and followed him, trying to summon up some of that incredible patience Leah always showed.
Inside, a wall of noise hit Austin as boys and dads grouped in the lobby, dads laughing together, boys shouting and chasing.
Jackson had already tucked himself away at the far end of the bank of doors, and Austin followed him. He should probably encourage Jackson to greet the other boys, but the truth was, this spot as far from the crowd as possible suited him perfectly as well.
“Hey.” A guy with reddish hair and a green sweater approached. “Is this your dad, Jackson?”
Jackson gave the man a disgusted look. “No.”
“Oh.” The guy looked taken aback.
“I’m a friend of the family.” Austin shook the hand the man offered. “And you are?”
“Mr. Wickel. Jackson’s science teacher.”
Austin resisted the urge to increase the pressure on the guy’s hand. If he was Jackson’s science teacher, shouldn’t he know the boy didn’t have a father?
“We’re going to get started in a few minutes. Looks like you don’t have any gear, so you can head down the corridor to the right to rent some. We’ll see you in there.” Mr. Wickel held out a fist to Jackson for a fist-bump, but Jackson sneered at it.
Austin didn’t blame him. “That guy is an imbecile,” he muttered as Mr. Wickel moved off.
The comment earned him Jackson’s first smile of the night. But Leah probably wouldn’t approve.
“Don’t tell your mom I said that.”
This time he was almost sure he heard a laugh.
“Come on.” Austin clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “What kind of equipment do we need to rent?”
They followed the line of kids and dads down the hall. A couple of boys said hi to Jackson, but most ignored him.
“I wonder what we’re . . .” Austin lost his words as the crowd ahead of them thinned enough for him to see what they were waiting to rent.
Hockey gear.
His heart dropped. He knew the military had a hockey team for amputees. Those guys were whizzes on the ice―the single-leg amputees on skates and the double-limb amputees on sleds―but Austin had never been a hockey player, and he’d had no inclination to learn during his recovery. He didn’t figure there’d be much call for hockey players once he got back to Afghanistan.
He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt. Now what did he do? Should he try, for Jackson’s sake? But maybe here, in front of a hundred kids and their dads, wasn’t the place to reveal his prosthetic to Jackson. At the thought of all those eyes on him―all the questions he’d be asked―he almost bolted.
But he made himself stand his ground to talk to Jackson. Leaning close to the boy, he spoke in an undertone. “I can’t play hockey.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “You stand on skates and hit a puck with a stick. It’s not that tough.”
The line shuffled forward, and a guy behind Austin cleared his throat, gesturing for Austin to move up. Instead, Austin reached for Jackson’s arm and tugged him out of line, motioning for the next group to go ahead of them.
“We can stay if you want. I’ll watch you. But I can’t skate.”
Disappointment flashed in Jackson’s eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone. “Whatever. I didn’t want to come anyway.”
Austin nudged him toward the line. “Go on. I’ll rent you some equipment. I bet you’ve got killer skills. I want to watch you.”
But Jackson twisted out of his grip and marched toward the lobby.
Austin followed, the weight of the prosthetic he usually didn’t notice dragging at him.
“Hey.” He pulled up next to Jackson. “How about we do something else? Just the two of us.” He racked his memory for what he’d liked to do at Jackson’s age. “How about bowling?”
Jackson directed a withering look at him.
“Or we could hang out here. Shoot some hoops. I’m sure they have an open court.”
But Jackson angled for the door. “I want to go home.”
Austin followed him outside, his exasperated sigh fogging the air in front of him. He hit the key fob to unlock the truck and watched Jackson climb in. As he followed, Austin tried to figure out if there was a way to salvage the night.
But he came up empty.
Queasiness rolled through him at the knowledge that he was failing Jackson.
And what was Leah going to think?
She’d asked him for this one simple favor, and he couldn’t even do that. The worst part was, he couldn’t begin to explain why.
The ride home was silent, but when they pulled into Leah’s driveway, Jackson spoke, not looking at Austin. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Leah I had a good time. We all know that’s the only reason you went anyway.”
Austin’s head whipped toward the boy. “Do you really believe that?”
Jackson shrugged.
“I like your mom. She’s nice. And we get along well. But I went tonight because I like you. I wanted to spend time with you.”
“Whatever.” Jackson’s eyes rolled back farther than Austin would have thought possible.
Before Austin could say anything else, Jackson jumped out of the truck and slammed the door. Austin watched him shuffle toward the house, debating whether he should follow or take the coward’s way out and go home.
He really wished he didn’t already know the right answer to that one.
Steeling himself, he followed Jackson’s tracks to the front door. But Leah beat him there, stepping outside as he reached the bottom of the porch steps.
“What happened? Why are you back already? Did Jackson refuse to participate?” Little puffs of steam clouded in front of her as she spoke, and she wrapped her arms around her elbows.
Austin swallowed. Apparently, Jackson hadn’t said anything. It’d be so easy to let Leah believe her assumption was correct. But he couldn’t do that to her. Or to Jackson.
“It was me.” He dug his hands into his pockets.
Leah’s lips tipped into a frown. “What was you?”
“I’m the one who wouldn’t participate. It was hockey, and I don’t skate.”
Leah’s mouth worked, no words coming out, but her eyes snapped. Finally, she seemed to find her voice. “And you couldn’t try? For him?”
“I’m sorry.” In his pockets, his hands clenched. “I couldn’t.”
“Why
?” There was fire in her voice. “Why couldn’t you try? He wouldn’t have cared if you were bad at it. All he cared about was being there with you. And you blew that.”
“I blew that?” Austin puffed out a hot breath. “I blew that?”
This woman was incredible. He’d taken her son to a father-son event, as a favor to her, and now she was telling him he’d blown it when he hadn’t been able to skate because he didn’t have a leg?
“So what if you weren’t the best? You could have tried anyway. There’s no reason―”
But he’d had enough. He reached down and gripped the left leg of his track pants. “You want to know why I couldn’t skate?”
His breaths were ragged and sharp, and he almost did it.
He almost pulled up his pants leg and revealed his prosthetic.
But he stopped himself.
This wasn’t the way to tell her. Not in anger.
Her hand went to her hip, and she raised an eyebrow, her expression saying “I’m waiting” as clearly as words would have.
Austin breathed in and out. His grip on his pants leg loosened.
“I just couldn’t. I’m sorry.” He turned and stalked to his truck. He could feel her eyes on him as he backed out and parked next door.
But he didn’t look over at her.
Leah leaned into the porch railing as Austin disappeared into the house next door.
A long sigh scraped against her trachea in the cold.
At least that was over. The feelings she’d had for Austin lately had been growing dangerously close to attraction, and she’d started to think it might be mutual. But if the guy couldn’t spend one evening with her son, that had to end right now.
She and Jackson were a package deal.
Anyway, this made things easier. Austin had been occupying way too many of her thoughts lately. Thoughts that would better be spent on figuring out what to get Jackson for Christmas or finalizing plans for the annual community Thanksgiving meal she always managed.
She moved toward the door, its colorful lights winking at her. Lights she’d held as Austin hung them. They’d felt so much like a team that day.
Just went to show that feelings couldn’t always be trusted.
What mattered now was providing Jackson with stability and with adults he could trust. She’d thought that might be Austin. But apparently she’d been wrong.
As she returned inside, she pulled in a breath. She’d close the door on whatever feelings she’d been starting to develop for him.
Now.
With a hard shove, she latched the front door.
She only hoped the door of her heart was closed as tightly.
Chapter 19
He’d wanted fewer distractions.
And now he had fewer distractions.
Austin curled the weight, an involuntary grunt exploding from his lips. He’d already punished his muscles harder than he should this morning. And it was only nine o’clock.
But his physical was just over a week away. And he had nothing else to do anyway.
He dropped the weight and reached for his water bottle, his eyes going to the window, the same way they had a million times in the past two days. And just like it did every time, that same ache rose in his middle.
Maybe he shouldn’t, but he missed them. Two days of not seeing them, not talking to them, was too long.
He’d considered going over to apologize for everything that had happened the other night―he’d even gotten as far as opening his front door yesterday. But what was he going to say? Sorry I couldn’t skate, but I don’t have a leg?
That’s a start.
But he pushed the thought away. It was better this way. It wasn’t like he was going to be here forever. Next week, he’d have his physical, and then he’d be on his way back to Afghanistan.
That didn’t exactly leave time for a relationship―with Leah or her kid.
He forced his eyes off their house and moved toward the bathroom. He should shower and get on with his busy day of doing nothing.
His eyes flicked to his laptop, open on the coffee table. Still no word from Chad.
He tried to ignore the dread that nearly strangled him every time he thought about his brother.
It had only been two weeks since they’d last talked―and Chad had warned that it might be a while before he could call again.
There was nothing to worry about.
Austin sat on the small stool he’d placed next to the shower and hiked up the leg of his track pants. He’d learned it was easier to take his prosthetic off first, then the pants.
He was about to push the button to release the pin that held the prosthetic in place when there was a loud bang on the front door.
He considered ignoring it. It was probably a solicitor.
Or it could be Leah.
He pulled the leg of his pants back down and stood, telling his heart to knock off its silly thumping as he strode to the front door.
Eagerness shot through him as he opened it.
But it wasn’t Leah.
It was Jackson, shivering in only a t-shirt.
“Hey, dude.” Austin reached for the boy’s arm, dragging him into the house. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”
Jackson’s eyes darted around the room.
“I’m glad you came over.” Austin gestured for Jackson to sit, but the boy didn’t move. “I wanted to apologize―”
“Leah’s not getting up.” Jackson’s voice was scratchy, and he blinked as if holding back tears.
“What?” Austin tried to switch gears, even as his heart heaved. “What do you mean, she’s not getting up?”
“She’s always up by now, but I pounded on her bedroom door, and she didn’t answer.” Jackson shook harder.
“Okay. It’s okay.” Austin locked a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Maybe she decided to sleep in, and she’s wearing ear plugs or something.” Though he had to admit that didn’t sound like Leah.
“What if she’s dead?”
Austin’s mouth opened. Leah was a young, healthy woman. Why would Jackson jump to that conclusion?
And then he remembered―Leah had told him that Jackson had found his mother dead of a drug overdose. She’d probably been young and healthy as well.
“She’s not dead.” He grabbed his coat and threw it around Jackson’s shoulders, then pulled his stocking cap onto his head and steered the boy to the door. “Come on. I’ll check on her.”
At first, Jackson’s feet didn’t budge, but after a few nudges, Austin got him moving.
They sped across the yard as fast as they could through the six inches of fresh snow.
“She’s in her room.” Inside, Jackson pointed down the hallway but seemed unwilling to step beyond the front door. He stood there, Austin’s coat still draped over him, face pale, shaking.
Austin patted his shoulder, then strode down the hallway to Leah’s closed bedroom door at the end.
He gave a gentle knock. “Leah?”
When there was no answer after a few seconds, he knocked and called again, a little louder this time. He glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see Jackson from here. He stuffed down his own mounting concern and raised his hand to knock again, but the door opened.
He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief.
Until his eyes fell on her.
Her cheeks were flushed, sweat beaded on her forehead, and dark circles bruised her eyes, which she seemed barely able to open, although they widened when they fell on him, and a hand went self-consciously to her hair.
“What are you doing here?” She wrapped her arms around her middle as a shiver wracked her frame, despite the fleece pajamas she wore.
“Jackson came over. He said you weren’t getting up.” Austin reached for her elbow to lead her back toward the bed.
“I’m fine.” Leah tried to escape his grasp but stumbled. His arm went around her to steady her, and he tried to ignore the warmth in his chest as she leaned into hi
m.
“Yeah, you seem fine.” He touched his free hand to her forehead, wincing at the heat that radiated from it. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you back to bed.”
But Leah tried to pull away again. “I can’t. I have to get everything ready for the community dinner tomorrow. I have twenty turkeys to cook and mashed potatoes and stuffing and―”
“There must be someone else who can do that.” They’d reached her bed, and he lowered her gently onto the white comforter.
“I cook the meal every year. I like to do it. I want to help people.”
Austin bent to lift her legs and swing them into the bed. “I know you like to help people.” He made his voice gentle. “But this year, you’re going to have to let people help you. Who should I call to make the meal?”
She closed her eyes and lifted a hand to cover them. “My assistant is the only one I’d trust. But she’s out of town for Thanksgiving. Maybe if I rest for a little bit, I can go over later. It’ll be tight but . . .” Her words had gotten slower, and she looked half asleep.
“That’s right. You rest.” Austin tucked the blankets around her, then strode to the bathroom and wet a rag with cool water. After ringing it out, he folded it into a neat rectangle, then placed it on her forehead. She half-sighed, half-moaned but didn’t open her eyes.
Austin let himself watch her for a few seconds, until he was sure she was sleeping. Then he headed for the living room to recruit Jackson. They had a lot of work to do.
It looked like they were making Thanksgiving dinner.
For the entire town.
“I knew there’d be a list.” Jade waved the piece of paper triumphantly in front of Austin as she emerged from the office at the back of Leah’s commercial kitchen downtown. “I’m always teasing Leah about all the lists she makes, but this time I have to admit that it’s helpful.”
Austin did too. He wasn’t sure they’d be able to pull this off otherwise. Even with the list, it was going to be a challenge.
Not Until Christmas Morning (Hope Springs Book 5) Page 12
