Chapter 20 Presley #2
Ha, not quite. I start to type back, trying to think of something cute and witty. I want to be flirty and fun. But no, that would lead him on. I need to bow out. Before anyone gets really hurt. Myself included.
I wish, but it really can’t.
Then Drafts and Dig In tomorrow?
I sigh, willing myself to find the strength to reply the way I need to and not how I want to.
Can’t
You can’t have that much work lol
I do, but that’s beside the point.
No babysitter. Mom and Dad are out of town.
I could find you one ;)
Thanks, but Otis has never stayed with anyone but myself or my parents and…
I get it. So, this weekend?
Tell him no…tell him no…
My fingers itch to reply of course! Or even counter it with asking if he wants to come cook dinner with me instead. Because I bet he would. He’d be down to make a mess in the kitchen, and then make a mess out of me, before we head to the shower to wash it off. Together.
One more thing Cody was never down for. Wait, no, that’s two.
Plus dishes. Jace would take care of the dishes. So, three.
But I hold steady.
Probably not the best idea
The dancing dots appear again, then disappear for a second. The pattern repeats three or four times, Jace clearly trying to carefully word his response.
Jace
Did I do something?
You didn’t respond to half my texts yesterday and now you don’t want to make plans. Tell me what I did wrong.
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
And that’s the problem.
Deep down, I know Jace isn’t Cody. But that doesn’t stop this spiral of anxiety. Doesn’t halt the creepy-crawly feeling I get every time I think about what’s going to happen as soon as he’s ready to move on. As soon as he figures out that he doesn’t want to be weighed down with someone else’s kid.
I’m just busy.
Speaking of, need to get back to work so I can get O to the dr on time.
I push up from the table, leaving the rest of my lunch unfinished. I’m not sure I have the appetite anymore.
“Gotta jet,” I tell the girls, not leaving room for anything else. “Busy afternoon.”
Grabbing my trash, I wave goodbye and head toward the exit. My phone buzzes again, and I look down, my heart sinking as I read Jace’s message.
Pres, talk to me…
Nope. Can’t. No matter how much it hurts.
Instead, I leave him on read, slipping my phone back into my pocket and turning my focus on my new priority.
Putting up walls.
“Doorbell!”
Otis announces the sound as if I didn’t hear it, the shrillness of his squeal piercing my eardrums. I hold back my wince—barely—peering into the living room from the kitchen.
Not that I can see anything. Our front door is solid wood and all the blinds are drawn so that our house isn’t a fish tank for anyone driving by to look into.
“So I hear,” I reply, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.
The pounding of his feet is already carrying through the air, so I rush to follow him, knowing there is no way to beat him to the door.
Otis might have a firm grasp on stranger danger in public, but the at-home portion is still a work in progress.
We haven’t fully grasped the idea that a stranger might try to come to visit.
As an afterthought, I look down at myself, making sure that I’m not in something inappropriate.
I know that my sweats and tee aren’t overly revealing—at least not from a sexy perspective—but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chance they are threadbare in all the wrong places or there is a strategically placed hole I don’t want to show off.
It was a rough enough day—we don’t need to add in flashing an unsuspecting visitor.
We’re not expecting anyone, and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing straight up with nerves as I try to figure out who would knock at this hour.
“Jace!” Otis squeals. “Mama, it’s Jace!”
Oh…shit…
Now I really wish I was wearing something nicer. Or even a bra.
“H-h-hi,” I stammer. My heart jackhammers against my ribs, trying to break free. He’s here. He’s really here.
Why is he here?
“Hi.” Jace smiles, his brown eyes warm and inviting, like chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. “May I come in?”
“I…errrr…”
Jace isn’t Cody…
Objectively, I know this. I do. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold the power to break our hearts. Because there is no way I’m what he wants. Not really. Not for the long term.
“Come see what I build!” Otis grabs Jace’s hand, tugging him inside.
Jace steps forward warily, his eyes locked on mine the entire time, searching for permission. Resigned, I nod, moving out of their way. Jace lets Otis lead, holding on tightly to his hand as they carefully navigate the still messy living room.
“Socks and I catch fish.”
Pointing out the pile of blankets mixed together in the middle of the room, miscellaneous toys weaved into the folds, Otis continues to rattle on, not making much sense.
“You’re fishing in the living room?” Jace asks playfully. “Does your mama know?”
Otis giggles, the sound making my heart squeeze again. He nods emphatically, words starting to tumble out of him again. Jace listens intently, as if Otis were the world’s foremost scholar on his favorite subject, giving him a personal lecture.
Everything in me wants to squeal, jumping up and down, doing a little happy dance.
These are the moments I’ve always wanted for him.
The ones that I curse Cody for giving up.
Because being a dad isn’t about the DNA—it’s about being there for your kid and giving him the love and attention he deserves. Otis deserves it all.
I need to bow out…
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I know what I need to do, and my heart is already breaking.
“Wow, you’re so good at this,” Jace continues to play along. “Think you’ll be this good when we get out on Silver Lake?”
“Yup!”
My insides clench, simultaneously loving the idea of the two of them going fishing and worrying that it won’t come to pass. That Jace won’t still be in our lives this spring to take Otis to “catch fish.”
Because he won’t. I need to cut this off. Paps can take Otis out on Silver Lake.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
My tone is sharper than I intended, each word slicing through the air like a knife. It betrays my own hurt, but maybe that’s a good thing. Help build the wall.
Pushing back up to his full height, Jace ambles over to me. “I came to pick you up for Drafts and Dig In.”
I blink, trying to process his statement. Is he insane? I told him I couldn’t go.
“No.” My voice squeaks. So much for not betraying my feelings…
Jace rocks backward, as if I physically pushed him. “What do you mean no?”
“I told you yesterday I couldn’t go.”
“You told me you didn’t have a babysitter. I fixed that. Miss Belle said that Otis is welcome to hang out with her and Auggie at Magnolia Manor. So, go get changed and we can drop Little Man off and then head over—”
“No.”
Jace’s face falls, expression morphing from confusion to hurt and then back again.
“I don’t…”
“Jace,” I huff out, exasperated. Flexing my hands, I count to ten, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening me with everything they have.
Turning to my son, I inhale deeply, counting to ten again.
“Otis, time for bed. Please go change and start to get ready. I’ll be there in a minute to read you a story. ”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s bedtime.”
“O-tay,” he resigns. “Jace read me a story?”
“No,” I answer, right as Jace starts to say “Sure.”
He stops short, looking at Otis and shrugging while he shakes his head. “Next time, Little Man. Sweet dreams.”
Running over to us, Otis wraps his arms around Jace’s legs, giving him a hug. “Don’t let the bed rugs bite!”
The sight is almost too much to bear, and I can tell it gets to Jace too.
He doesn’t bother to hide all his feelings as he hugs Otis back, before ruffling his hair.
I force a smile, the hurt already filling me as I watch Otis let go, then run over to grab Socks and head down the hall.
Waiting for the sound of the door closing, I try to find my words—calm, reasonable ones—but the only thing inside me is panic.
An internal freak-out that is spinning around at the speed of the Tasmanian Devil.
“Pres…”
“No, Jace. No.” I cut him off, swallowing a sob. “You can’t just show up. I told you that I couldn’t tonight and—”
“You said you didn’t have a babysitter. I found a solution.”
He found a solution. Just like that. Without asking. Without begging. Simply took it upon himself to fix the situation. Because he wanted to spend time with me.
The woman who has nothing to offer him.
“I didn’t need a solution. I…”
“Talk to me, Pres.” He steps into me, opening his arms to wrap them around me, but I step backward, out of reach. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Must have done something.”
Fair…
“No. It’s not you…it’s…”
“So help me, if you hit me with ‘it’s not you it’s me,’” he jokingly threatens.
Okay, then I won’t. I’ll find another line.
“Jace, you don’t want me.”
He shakes his head, confusion taking over. “I don’t?”
“Nope. I am not what you want in a partner. I can’t be wild and free and go out on random Thursday nights because it sounds like fun or the whole gang will be there.
I have real adult responsibilities. Like cleaning my house.
Or cooking dinner. And I will always have Otis.
He comes first. I have to put him first.”
“Is that what you want? For me to cook dinner? Because I can.”
Oh, for the love. That’s what he took from that? I mean, yes, I would love for him to cook dinner. I would love for anyone other than myself to cook dinner. But that wasn’t the point of this.
“No, Jace. My life is messy. You don’t want to get mixed up in that.”
“What if I do?”
He steps in closer, my heart kicking up a notch, reaching for him. I want to bury myself against his chest, let him hold me and tell me he has things under control. That he’s got this. Got me. That we’re in this together and that I—we, Otis and I—are what he wants.
More than anything, I want to be able to believe it when he says it. But I don’t know that I can.
“I can’t risk it.”
A single tear slips down my cheek, everything inside me ripping to shreds as I whisper my answer. I can feel the tiny little fissures spread throughout my body as I shatter, taking their sweet time to inflict as much pain as possible.
“Risk what?”
“You not choosing us.”
“Pres…” Jace takes another step, but I slide to the side, keeping the distance between us. “What about anything that I’ve done makes you think I’m not choosing you?”
“You say that now. But…” I swallow hard, pushing down the wad of emotion choking its way up. “Cody was all in too. Until he wasn’t. And I can’t do that again. Won’t do that again. And I sure as hell won’t do that to Otis.”
Jace’s jaw drops. Only for a split second, but then he rights himself, a fire igniting in his eyes.
“I’m not Cody.”
“I know—” I start, but Jace cuts me off, his voice tense.
“I’m not saying that I know what the future holds. But I am not him. I am not going to purposefully walk away from you, or Otis, with the intent of hurting you. I’m not going to do any of that shit he did. I am not that kind of guy.”
No…you aren’t. You are so much better. Too damn good for me…
My resolve starts to slip, letting me know I need to end this. I need to put the final nail in the coffin so I can start to move on.
“No, you’re not. And I don’t think you’d do it on purpose. But I’ve also seen a different side of you, Jace Hayes. I know what you’re capable of. I remember high school.”
It’s a low blow. We both know it. But it does what I need it to—it renders him speechless.
Walking over to the front door, I quietly open it, leaning against it as I hold it. The silence grows thick between us, the tension building like fresh dough left to rise. My breathing is slow and stuttered, my racing pulse not helping anything.
Slowly, deliberately, Jace makes his way toward the door, stopping directly in front of me. Holding my gaze, he lets out a long breath through his nostrils, letting his hurt show. All of it, fully on display. I want to kiss it away. Tell him I don’t really mean it.
Instead, I remain silent.
“We’re not done with this conversation.”
“Yes, we are.” I blink, still trying to maintain eye contact.
“No. We’re not. I mean it when I said I got you.” Leaning in, he softly presses his lips to my forehead. “I got you, Pres. Otis too. And I’m gonna show you.”
My breath hitches, and I don’t know if I want to hug him or hit him. Because only Jace Hayes can react to being dumped and kicked out of a house with a sweet, borderline romantic, refusal.
I actually think I might hate him for it.
Sidling out of the way, I slip behind him and gently push him outside. He goes, semi willingly, but mostly because I pushed, and then turns to face me. I don’t wait, swinging the door shut, letting the sound echo through my house.
Gasping, I sob, all those fissures finally working their way into one another, crumbling as I fall apart. This hurts. Way more than I thought. Significantly more than Cody.
Because Jace isn’t Cody.
“Mama, story?” Otis calls.
Right, real life.
Straightening up, I suck in a breath. Swiping at my eyes, I do everything I can not to give away the fact that I was crying. It’s story time, and story time doesn’t involve tears.
“On my way, baby.”