Chapter 9 #2
Right, well…typing doesn’t count. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her that.
Give her the grief I know she would give me if I had done such a thing.
That she started the other day with her threat.
But there’s another part of me that recognizes that today isn’t going so well for her and that maybe I should bite my tongue.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my house though.”
And then she says that.
I hold up the bag again. “Miss Belle sent me with this. I don’t know why or what it is, but apparently it was important. More important than you honoring your commitments or working a full day. I hope you’re not this—”
“Mama…” a little voice cuts me off.
Presley and I both freeze, the pain in that voice piercing through the air like a spear.
“I frowed up…”
I turn, my gaze landing on Otis, his little body slumped down, looking defeated. There’s a cartoon dog in a police uniform I don’t recognize on his pajama shirt, that is now covered in a vomit stain—as are the matching pants.
My heart shatters.
Soup…
The realization hits me like a sumo wrestler, physically knocking me back a step.
Miss Belle sent soup. Inside this bag is a big ol’ container of chicken noodle.
I’d also bet pretty much everything I own that there’s a grilled cheese in here as well—since that was the go-to in our house growing up when any of us were sick.
Now that I think about it, all of us Hayes kids still gravitate to those comfort foods too.
“Oh, buddy…” Presley cries, rushing to him. She sinks to her knees so she’s eye level with him, brushing his soft hair out of his face. “It’s okay. Let’s go get you cleaned up again.”
Otis nods, his matching blue eyes looking upset. Turning to head back down the hall, he looks up, noticing me still standing just inside the door.
“Jace?”
My name in his sweet little kid voice was adorable the first time I heard it, but now, with the weight of not feeling well sitting on him, it tears apart my insides. I have to fight the urge to scoop him up and hold him, telling him that everything is going to be okay.
“Hey, Little Man.”
“I frowed up.”
I put the bag of food down, walking toward him and kneeling down next to Presley. To my surprise, she doesn’t bristle or move away. Instead, she smiles warmly at me.
“I can see that. Upset tummy?”
Otis nods, his frown plastered in place. I wish I could snap my fingers and make him feel better. I don’t have those kinds of magic powers though. What I do have is soup and a movie collection that can heal pretty much any soul. I would bet there’s one thing that Miss Belle forgot though.
“Know what I like to do when I have an upset tummy?” I ask, keeping my voice happy and light. Otis shrugs. “I like to curl up on the couch under a blankie with some ginger ale and watch my favorite movie. Does that sound like fun?”
Otis lights up, a zing of energy passing through him. I can see he likes this plan.
Good man…
“You don’t have to,” Presley whispers harshly.
Oh, shit. I probably should have run that idea by her first. For all I know, Otis isn’t allowed soda. Or he’s allergic. Or something. Ooops.
“If it’s okay with your mom,” I quickly add.
Guilt floods my chest, my pulse kicking up a couple of notches as I wait for a response. A reprieve from my error. Each passing second seems to take longer and longer as I wait for Presley to say something. Anything. Even if it’s nothing more than telling me to fuck off.
Please don’t tell me to fuck off…
“You really don’t have to,” she repeats, her sweet smile still in place. A smile that is genuine. I can see it in those beautiful gray eyes.
“I want to.”
I really, really want to.
I can’t explain why, but I do. Right now there is nowhere else on this earth I’d rather be than right here, kneeling in front of a vomit-covered child, wondering if the better option is going to the grocery store to get the ginger ale myself, or calling in a delivery.
The light in Presley’s eyes flickers to life, a sigh of what seems like relief filling the silence. Be still my heart…
No, no. I am not thinking that about Presley Callahan. Nope.
“What do you say, Otis?” she asks. “Do you think Mr. Jace likes the same kind of movies we do?”
“Yup.”
“Okay then.” She nods purposefully. “Then why don’t we get cleaned up, and then we can find out if Mr. Jace shares our good taste.”
Pushing to her feet, Presley gestures for Otis to head back down the hall. Wordlessly, he does, his little feet moving slowly across the hardwood floor. We watch in silence, waiting for him to disappear before saying anything.
“Really, if you just want to—”
“I know my mama,” I cut her off, standing up. “There’s soup and grilled cheese in that bag. I’ll call over to Wrights and have Jake send some ginger ale over and then get my favorite feel-better movie pulled up on the TV. Sound like a plan?”
“Jace, I…” Another relieved sigh escapes, although this time her body inflates with some renewed hope.
“Thank you. I got the call from Pitter Patter right before lunch, and I ran into the drug store on my way there to pick up some meds. Miss Belle was there visiting Brenna and told me to go get Otis and that she’d send over some stuff.
I really thought I’d sent that text. I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean for you to have to come over here. ”
I chuckle, because that sounds exactly like something both my mama and my sister-in-law, Brenna, Milo’s wife and owner of Hickory Hills Drugs, would do. Clearly the two of them then roped Dolly in for the food. Meaning there’s meds inside that bag as well as soup.
Only in a small town.
“It’s fine,” I answer before I can think.
There’s more I want to say, but I can feel the worry radiating off Presley.
Her mom senses are kicking in—the ones I questioned and put down not that long ago—and she wants to get back to her kid.
“Go get him cleaned up. I’ll go put the food in the kitchen, call in some ginger ale, and grab whatever meds Brenna sent over. Have you eaten?”
She shakes her head.
“Then I’ll get you some soup. I assume you have a microwave.”
“I do.”
I nod. “Go. I got this.”
She’s off before I can say anything else, leaving me standing there alone. Walking over to close the front door, I grab the food and make my way into the kitchen on the other side of the living room.
Time to get to work…
Thirty minutes later, Otis is all cleaned up, now dressed in a set of Bluey pajamas. Presley changed into a Property of Raleigh Police Department tee, but the oversized sweats are still hanging off her body like she’s wearing her boyfriend’s clothes rather than her own.
I wonder if those were someone else’s…
A weird twinge hits as I think about it.
Similar to the jealousy I felt the other night at Pour Decisions, yet different.
Otis came from somewhere, so there was someone in her life before.
A fact that makes me feel a bit squirmy, if I’m honest. Makes me wish I’d thought about her in my clothes rather than someone else’s.
Only, now I’m thinking about her in my clothes—in a tee that says Property of Hayes on it—my dick reacting in a way it absolutely should not be. Because this is Presley Callahan.
“Snuggle?” Otis asks, breaking my train of thought. Thank God.
“I love snuggles,” I tell him, settling us down on the sectional.
I tuck him in under a blanket, parking myself right next to him. Otis doesn’t waste any time, wiggling under my arm and resting his head against my chest.
And I’m a goner…
“Ready for the movie?” I ask, trying to focus. My heart squeezes, the desire to stay like this forever settling over me. “I picked my favorite feel-better movie. I hope you like it.”
Nodding against my chest, Otis looks up at me, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
“Here goes…” I hit play, the opening music sweeping through the room. “The Rescuers Down Under.”
“The Rescuers Down Under?” Presley asks with a laugh.
“Yup.” I smirk proudly. “There’s action, adventure, cool animals, Miss Bianca. What isn’t there to love?”
“Otis,” she whispers, “I think we might have found our movie match.”
Fuck, yes…