Chapter 4 Jackson
four
Jackson
Shaking my head, I look down at my phone.
Apparently, I didn’t hear my alarm go off, because it’s twenty minutes past the time I set it for.
This is not a good way to start the day.
I drop my feet to the ground, grab a Granite Ice hoodie from my closet, and throw it over my head.
Of all the days to oversleep, why must it be when I have Rigsby?
I hurry from my room and go straight to the couch.
“Rigsby,” I say softly. He doesn’t even twitch, so I repeat it a bit louder: “Rigsby, get up.” He’s flat on his back, one hand above his head, his slobbery bottom lip hanging open like he’s sacked out after a long night of partying.
To be fair, I didn’t get him to bed at the time I was told to.
I ignored Jackie’s warnings about how tough mornings are when he doesn’t sleep. I didn’t think his ears wouldn’t work.
With my phone in one hand, I reread the text I got last night.
Jackie: Apparently some girl from Rigsby’s class found your hockey glove at the laundromat. She said she’ll bring it to school in the morning if you want to look for her. She messaged me on Facebook about it. The mom's name is Kaci.
My throat had cinched tight.
That’s my lucky glove!
I didn’t know I had lost it. After reading the text, I ran to my bag and dumped it out. The glove wasn’t there, and my heart slammed against my chest—where it’s stayed ever since. If I hadn’t already been warned that it was gone, I might have had a heart attack. I’m so lucky to know where it is.
If I had my way, I would have gone last night when I got the text, but it was late, and Jackie never gave me a number to reach out to the girl or her parents. I also didn’t want to bother Jackie on her last night before the baby arrives.
Besides, I know who has the glove. It’s the girl with the woman who stole my machine.
I cringe when I think about that interaction.
I was confused about my machine, and acting out of character, but something happened when I focused on that woman.
She was a sonic boom to my brain, an unexpected beauty, with fair skin and trim body, except for her hips, which were full in my favorite way.
I don’t normally go looking for women, as I’m enjoying my bachelor era.
She was definitely a reminder that just because I’m enjoying being single doesn’t mean I can’t admire beauty.
Until she opened her mouth.
No, there was nothing wrong with her voice, but the only sparks that flew were the ones that were hot off her attitude. Shaking my head, I mumble, “Yep, I’m fine admiring from a distance and not engaging.”
My gaze flicks to the clock on my phone. I have no idea what time she will drop off her kid. I don’t want to risk missing them. We need to leave early. According to Bill, tomorrow is the biggest game of the season. We can’t lose to Arctic Force. I need that glove.
I urgently tap Rigsby’s shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got to get up for school.” His hand slides down until it covers his ear, more than likely to tune me out, and he rolls over to his side facing away from me.
This isn’t working. I roll back my tight shoulders as I can’t stop thinking about my glove. I can’t be late and miss it. Tension pools in the front of my head.
Jackie was right about bedtime.
I stuff my phone in the middle pocket of my hoodie and lean over Rigsby. This time I’m not wasting time by tapping. I slide my arms around his waist and scoop him up like he’s a giant sack of potatoes, slugging him over my shoulder as I walk toward the bathroom.
On cue, he mumbles, “Is it morning already?”
“Yeah, bud.” I take a left into the small bathroom and set him in front of the sink. “Wash your face and get dressed. We’ll grab some bagels and coffee on the way to school.”
His brows bunch together, but his eyelids spring more open. “I don’t drink coffee.”
“Oh, yeah.” I spread a playful smile on my lips.
“You should because it would give you a reason to get out of bed in the morning.” Pivoting, I turn toward the shower where I have his coat hung on the rail.
We never made it back to the laundromat because it got too late.
I was stuck washing his coat by hand in the sink.
Just the thought of scrubbing out the vomit forces me to resist dry heaving.
Taking care of kids is quite disgusting.
I pull his coat down, checking it over for damp spots.
It seems to be dry. It even has a nice fresh ivory smell from the dish soap I used since I was out of laundry soap.
I usually buy the overpriced stuff at the laundromat, and it was too late to go back out.
Apparently, I’m missing some sort of childcare checklist because I didn’t know I should restock my laundry soap before Rigsby came.
His coat is extra-fragrant though.
“Alright, bud.” I turn on my heel and head out to give him space.
“Remember I need to get my glove. I haven’t the slightest clue what time she’ll be there.
So, let’s hurry.” I toss a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s in motion.
Instead of reaching to turn the faucet on, his hand finds his stomach.
His already chubby cheeks puff full of air as his eyes waiver into a bit of a cross-eyed stare.
“Rigsby,” I say cautiously, “are you feeling okay?”
“Aw, I’m not sure.” He’s still as can be, looking as if he’s afraid of what’s about to happen.
“Do you need something to eat to settle your stomach? Maybe some juice?” I mentally take inventory of my fridge. Unfortunately, it’s not the most kid friendly. I’ve got energy drinks, sushi, and leftover Chinese takeout.
“Nah, I don’t want anything.” His face blanches to ashen. I fumble for my phone to text Jackie, but then pause as I remember I told her I wasn’t going to bother her. She’s more than likely getting induced at this very moment. She doesn’t need this situation on her plate too.
She never left me an instruction manual for this!
“What does your mom usually do when you feel like this? Do you go to a doctor or lie down?” I speak as my thumb hovers over my phone.
“She says I have a nervous stomach. Usually, she rubs my back and sings to me until I feel better.”
“Well, I’m not going to sing to you, and trust me, you wouldn’t want me to.
” I glance at my medicine cabinet, but I don’t pause for long.
There’s nothing in it but cold medicine.
I have a stomach of steel and have never had this issue.
“Uh, new plan. Let’s run to the drug store to get some Pepto-Bismol, before we meet that lady. ”
“What lady?” His brows furrow, and his lack of urgency is grating on my nerves.
“I don’t remember her name,” I speak quickly. “It’s the gorgeous-but-oh-so-annoying lady from the laundromat who stole our machine.”
I reach my hand out to him, coaxing him forward. “Can you come with me if we walk slowly? I’ll bring a barf bag.” It’s not an ideal situation, but I must make it to that school. If he’s still ill when I get my glove, I’ll bring him back home, but at least I’ll have my glove.