5. Jackson
5
JACKSON
I t’s not like I need another reason to stay. I’ve already decided Alana and our son are my entire world. But when Alana’s mother practically accuses me of being a deadbeat dad waiting to happen, it throws extra fuel on the fire burning inside me.
She might think she knows how this story ends, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
I tear out of Alana’s driveway, the engine of my rental car growling in a way that matches the feeling in my chest. A man has his breaking point, and being compared to someone who abandoned his family pushes right against mine. I spent my career proving people wrong. This is just one more person to add to that list.
I burn through the afternoon looking at more properties. One place actually seems pretty damn near perfect until I realize it’s a forty minute drive from Alana. No way in hell am I going to live that far away from her. Her words from earlier ring in my ears— don’t worry, you’ll find a place —and I cling to that promise. And to the hope that she actually wants me around.
A week later, frustrated that I still haven’t found a rental that works, I switch my search from “rentals” to “for sale.” This opens up a whole new world of possibilities. There are half a dozen houses up for sale within a five-minute walk from Alana’s place. Three of those are instant nos. Another two show potential until I spot the telltale signs of hasty renovations hiding deeper issues.
But the last house I look at makes my heart rate kick up a notch. Scrolling through the photos, I see everything I could want—a covered lanai wrapping around the back, a spacious yard with an unobstructed view of the mountains, and rooms flooded with natural light that makes the whole place feel alive.
The only “issue” is that it’s a big family home, more room than I need right now. But as I study each photo, I can’t help but populate the empty spaces with possibilities. Kai taking his first steps across that living room. Alana and I cooking together in the kitchen, bumping hips as we move around each other. The three of us having breakfast on the lanai, watching the sunrise.
I know it’s reckless, buying a house this quickly. Making such a big and expensive decision when I haven’t been here very long. But, hell, I have the savings. Baseball paid well, and I was always smart with my money—saving more than I spent, investing smartly enough to build a comfortable cushion.
Some decisions in life you overthink. Others you just feel in your gut. This house—it’s not just four walls and a roof. It’s a declaration. A promise set in concrete and wood. A clear message to Alana, to her skeptical mother, and to myself, that I’m not going anywhere.
“This place is gorgeous. All this natural light…” Alana says, turning in a slow circle. Kai is strapped to her chest, his arms and legs bouncing happily. “You really lucked out finding a rental like this.”
I lean against the doorframe, watching her explore. It’s been a week since I first walked through this house and less than a day since the seller accepted my offer. We’re still under contract—closing is thirty days out—but I convinced the realtor to let me show Alana around.
For the last twenty minutes, I’ve enjoyed watching her take in every detail of the house. I’ve watched the way her eyes lingered on the mountain view, how she nodded approvingly at the spacious rooms, and savored the small gasp she let out when she stepped onto the lanai.
“It’s not a rental,” I say, unable to hold back any longer.
She turns, her brow furrowing. For a second, she doesn’t get it. Then her eyes widen.
“You bought this place?” The words come out like she can’t quite believe them.
I nod, smiling. “What do you think, Alana? Did I make the right decision?”
She takes another look around, like she’s seeing it all differently now. When her eyes meet mine again, she looks slightly dazed, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my heart pound harder.
“Can I see Kai’s room?” she asks, a smile spreading across her lips.
While waiting for the house to close, I fly home to pack up my place and get rid of everything I don't want to bring to Hawaii. Most of my stuff stays behind—furniture that looks too dark and heavy for island living, clothes I haven't worn in years, and awards that can stay in storage. The memories matter more than the hardware.
The things I actually want to keep, I pay to have shipped over. Not much—some clothes, a few photos, my baseball from my first major league home run. This time, when I land in Hawaii, the humid air wrapping around me doesn't feel temporary or unfamiliar. It feels like I've arrived home.
I'll admit I may go a bit overboard with furnishing the new house. But I want it ready for Alana and Kai to feel comfortable here, not like they're visiting a half-empty bachelor pad. The first week after closing is a blur of deliveries—a crib and changing table for Kai's room, a comfortable sectional that can fit all three of us, a bunch of kitchen stuff I never bothered with before. I even install safety latches on the cabinets, though Kai isn't crawling yet. Better to be prepared.
Now it’s finally time for them to see the finished result. In preparation for their visit, I stock the fridge and spend the afternoon putting together my mom’s meatball casserole. It’s nothing fancy, just ground beef, pasta, and a whole lot of cheese, but it’s the best thing I know how to make.
A knock at the door sends a jolt through me. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and head for the entrance.
“Hey,” I say, pulling the door open. “Come on in.”
Alana walks in with Kai on her hip, then stops abruptly. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the transformed space—no longer the empty shell she saw a month ago.
“How did you do all this?” she asks, turning to look at the fully furnished living room. “You just moved in.”
I shrug. “When I’m determined to get something done, I do it.”
She follows me into the kitchen, where I pull the casserole from the oven. The cheese on top bubbles, golden-brown and perfect.
“That smells incredible,” she says, leaning closer.
“It’s my mom’s recipe. Hope you’re hungry.”
We settle at the dining table with full plates. I’ve set up a bouncy seat next to the table for Kai, but when Alana tries to put him in it, his face crumples and he lets out a wail of protest, tiny arms reaching back toward her.
“Someone’s not having it tonight,” she says, trying to soothe him.
“Here, I’ll take him.” I reach for Kai and lift him onto my lap, balancing him against my chest while reaching for my fork. He immediately grabs a fistful of my shirt, his crying stopping as quickly as it started.
Alana takes a bite of the casserole and her eyes widen. “You said this is your mom’s recipe?”
“Yep. She made this all the time during baseball season. Said I needed the protein.” I cut another bite while keeping Kai steady with my other arm. “The secret’s in the three cheeses.”
She nods toward Kai, who’s staring at my fork as I bring it to my mouth. “Looks like someone wants a taste.”
“Sorry, buddy,” I tell him. “You’ve gotta wait until you’re six months old for solid food.”
Alana raises an eyebrow. “You know when babies start solids?”
I just smile. “What can I say? I’ve been doing my homework.”
“Look at you,” Alana says, shaking her head. “Baby expert in the making.”
By the time we finish dinner, Kai’s eyelids are drooping. His head bobs against my chest as he fights to stay awake.
“I think someone’s ready for bed,” I say, standing carefully. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you tucked in.”
Alana follows me down the hallway to Kai’s nursery. I push the door open to reveal the room I’ve spent the most time on—soft blue walls, a sturdy crib with a mobile hanging above it, a comfortable rocking chair in the corner, a bookshelf filled with books.
Alana hangs back in the doorway as I lay Kai in his crib, tucking a light blanket around him. He stirs briefly, then settles, falling easily into sleep. I step back, baby monitor in hand, and close the door softly behind me.
Alana and I stand in the hallway, face to face. In the dim light, her eyes seem to shine.
“You’re really good with him,” she says softly.
I smile. “Has your mother been convinced of that yet?”
Alana winces. “I’m sorry she’s been so hard on you. She’s just protective of us. She’ll come around eventually. It’s going to take time.”
“However much time she needs, that’s how much she needs,” I say with a shrug. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Something shifts in the air between us. Alana’s gaze drops to my mouth, and for a moment, I think she might lean in. My heart speeds up, pounding like a fucking jackhammer. But then she looks away, her eyes landing on the blank wall beside us.
“For such a furnished house, there’s an odd lack of art on these walls,” she says.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve never been great at picking out art. I was hoping maybe you could help me with that.”
She takes a moment to mull it over. “How about a giant velvet painting of Elvis? Or maybe one of those posters where the eyes follow you around the room?”
I laugh. “I knew you had good taste.”
“Or how about a life-size portrait of you in your Stallions uniform?”
“Now you’re talking. One in every room.” I nod my chin toward the kitchen. “Want a beer or something?”
“Absolutely.”
Back in the kitchen, I pull two beers from the fridge and lead her out to the lanai. The night air is warm, carrying the scent of plumeria. We lean against the railing, looking out at the darkened outline of mountains against the star-filled sky. The baby monitor sits between us, capturing Kai’s soft breathing.
“This place is perfect, Jackson,” Alana says, taking a sip of her beer. “When are you going to let Kai and me move in?”
I know she’s joking, but the question nearly knocks the air from my lungs. The truth is I’d help them pack tonight if she was serious. Instead, I keep my tone light. “Depends. How much rent are you offering?”
She scoffs, playfully shoving my shoulder. “Jerk.”
I clutch my chest, stumbling backward dramatically. “Ow. Watch it with those muscles.”
Alana rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re built like a brick wall.”
“Hey, you’re pretty sturdy yourself for someone so short.” I set my beer down and place my elbow on the railing. “Come on. Let’s settle this. Arm wrestling. Right now.”
“Are you serious?” She laughs but sets her beer down and takes my hand.
“On three.”
We count down, and I make a show of straining against her grip, grunting with exaggerated effort as I slowly let her push my hand down.
“You let me win!” she protests.
“What? No way. You’re just surprisingly strong.” I can’t keep the grin off my face.
“Liar.”
We’re still holding hands, our fingers intertwined. I brush my thumb across her knuckles, watching her expression soften. The playfulness melts away, replaced by something deeper, more serious. My pulse hammers in my ears as I lean toward her, drawn by a pull I can’t resist.
She looks up at me, her lips parting slightly. I swear I can hear her heart beating in time with mine.
But just before our lips meet, she pulls back. Just a little, but enough.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper.
My heart sinks, but I nod, pulling back.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she rushes to explain. “It’s just all happening so fast. I need to be sure that every decision I make is also good for Kai.”
What could be more right for Kai, to have his parents together? But I also get what she’s saying. If there’s even the smallest chance of this not working out, it’s not worth it to her to take that risk. She’s just being a good mom and putting our son first.
So I’ll be patient. It might kill me, but I’ll be patient.
Because if anyone is worth waiting for, it’s her.