Chapter 6
SIX
JACK
“Your phone isn’t going to ring any quieter if you look away,” Janet says, walking into the kitchen.
I glance up from my phone, flat on the table in front of me, and sigh. “I know. I just really want to know how it’s going.”
“It’s been over an hour. That might be a good thing. Might mean the pricks are actually listening.” She tugs on my sleeve. “Come into the living room. Hugh wants to fall asleep watching a movie with Uncle Jack.”
“You mean you want him to fall asleep. I can trap him,” I say with a slight smile.
I make sure my ringer is all the way up, slip my phone into the pocket of my sweatshirt, and follow Janet into the living room.
Mom is on one end of the couch, clearly exhausted—she has a book open but doesn’t even have a hand raised to turn the page.
Widget is curled up on her lap. Hugh is rolling around on the carpet, doing everything he can to fight off his own tiredness.
“Come here, dude,” I tell him, sitting next to Mom and patting the spot on my other side. “Bring me a car. Let’s watch some Bubble Guppies.”
“No, play on the floor,” Hugh says.
“No, play on the couch,” I tell him, patting the couch again. “Bring me the blue car?”
He blinks, grabs the blue one near his hand, and walks over.
I grab him and half-toss him onto the couch, earning a giddy giggle, and roll the car over his lap.
He chases it with his car. Janet turns on his show and turns off the main light, flicking on the lamp.
And in five minutes he’s staring at the screen with glassy eyes, moving the car.
Five minutes after that he wilts against me, eyes drifting shut.
“Stay still for ten more minutes, so I know he’s out, and you’ll be my favorite brother,” Janet whispers.
“I’m always your favorite brother,” I whisper back. “I’m your only brother.”
“Well, I won’t make fun of you for a week.”
I scoff. Janet chuckles.
“You’re right. That’ll never happen.”
“Pretty sure he’s out for the count,” I say, after Hugh gives off a snuffling snore.
“I’ll bring him to bed,” Mom says, yawning.
Janet pulls him into her arms. “I got him, Mom.”
I stand and hug Mom. “Thanks for today. Everything was delicious, and what you did for Eli was fantastic.” She yawns again, and I push her away. “Get to bed!”
Mom looks at the clock. “I’d wanted to stay up longer, in case Eli reaches out, but I’m ready to pass out like Hugh did.” She rubs my arm. “If he needs to go for a walk or something . . . go ahead. I trust you. Just don’t fall asleep outside again? It’s a lot colder now.”
I almost laugh at the teasing edge to her smile. “Promise. Thanks, Mom.”
She says she loves me and says goodnight, and goes into her room, Widget right behind her. That dog is glued to her side. Not even a minute later, Janet’s door opens, Janet emerging with an armload of books. “Thought she’d never go to her room.”
She goes to the kitchen table and dumps her books there. “Why do you need to hide homework from Mom?”
“I’m finishing the final project for my marketing class. It’s not due till next week, but Mom’s always so exhausted after Thanksgiving I figured it’s a perfect time to do it. I need to do it here, where I can look at her recipe book for the sample blog post at the end of the project.”
She’s opening up her laptop and taking a packet out of a folder, so she doesn’t notice that I’m looking at her for several heartbeats.
“Something wrong?” she asks.
The seed inside my chest, that had still been clinging to my anger at her, shrivels up into nothing.
Janet messed up as a teenager, stressing Mom out and dropping out of school.
She took advantage of Mom, relying on her for childcare and taking her sweet time starting on her GED.
I knew when she said she was taking this business class, with her idea for Mom’s career, that she’s truly changed, but something about seeing her settling in to work for hours, knowing she waited until Mom couldn’t spy her doing it .
. . it makes it clear she isn’t doing this for show.
She wants to surprise Mom, and do the best job she can, and she’s more serious about this than she’s been about .
. . just about anything, other than raising Hugh the last year and a half.
“I’m proud of you,” I manage.
“Thanks.” Janet sighs. “Being a responsible adult sucks. But it’ll be worth it.”
“When are you going to show her?”
“Christmas, maybe?”
I nod. “It’s a great present.”
“My professor said I can do an independent study with her next year, after my basic courses are done. I really like her.”
My phone cuts Janet off before she can say whatever she opened her mouth to say.
“Eli,” I say, without looking. My screen confirms it, his picture smiling at me.
I updated it this week, after I snapped a picture of him mid-laugh when we distracted Seth and Fred from their homework.
It’s a little blurry, but it’s my favorite picture I have of him so far.
I still hear the sound of his deep laugh as I took it.
Janet has a knowing look in her eyes. “I can catch you up later. I need to get to work anyway.”
I answer, bringing the phone to my ear. “Eli?”
“Can I come over?”
His voice is tight again. “Meet you halfway,” I tell him, moving to get my shoes on. “What happened?”
“I just need to see you.”
I pin the phone between my cheek and my shoulder, yanking on my coat. “That’s the best reason. How did talking to them go?”
“At first, just like I expected. Then . . . not.”
We stay on the phone as I jog to meet him, Eli asking what we’ve been up to since he left. I hang up once I see him and continue where I left off with barely a pause, earning a half-hearted chuckle from him.
“Feels like it’s been longer than two hours,” he admits.
I fold my fingers over his and pull him toward my house. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’m all ears. If you don’t want to tell me anything—well, once we get in the house I can be all arms, and cuddle with you.”
He pulls back on my arm, drawing me close and pressing his lips to mine.
One hand frames the back of my head. The other holds me at the small of my back.
The cold disappears for a moment, secure as I am in Eli’s embrace.
It presses on me again the instant he pulls back, but wars with a renewed warmth surging inside.
“I know you’re cold, but I couldn’t wait to do that,” he says in a desire-roughened voice.
“No complaints here.”
He takes my hand again and we reach the house in silence. I sigh once we’ve shut the door behind us. So much better, being warm. And climbing onto the couch with Eli, pulling a blanket over both of us? Cozy doesn’t begin to describe it.
He laces his fingers with mine under the blanket. “They said they love me,” he says in a whisper. “They said they’ll try to visit more, and at least they’ll call more.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I lit one of the lamps before we sat down, casting a gentle glow over the room. It reflects in Eli’s dark eyes as he stares at the blanket. “I don’t think I should, but yes. My main issue is . . . I don’t know if I can trust it.”
I take a minute framing my response. “Can you stop yourself from hoping they do?”
He breathes in sharply. “No.”
I look at him until he meets my eyes. “Then there’s not much you can do about it. The ball is on their side of the field. Play defense like you always have, ready for it to come back . . . but prepared for it to stay away for a while. I know that’s a crappy analogy and easier said than done, but—”
“It helps,” he interrupts.
I search his face. “Really?”
His mouth curves up, slightly. “Okay, maybe not the analogy part. But this, you, knowing you understand—that you’re here—that helps.”
I trace my thumb over his palm. “Where else would I be?”
I see it in his eyes—the flicker of familiarity.
Does he remember saying those words to me, the day Widget had his surgery at the vet?
I don’t think I’ve told him how those words nested inside me.
How they repeated in my mind as I tried to go to sleep that night, echoed in his vinyl voice until they rooted in my soul.
The way his throat tenses after a second, he remembers, and the way his lips part by a breath . . . he knows. At least, he knows now.
“I don’t know if that was my moment, when I fell in love with you,” I continue, voice lowering, “but it was the moment that told me you’re everything to me.”
His nose brushes mine, dark eyelashes lowering halfway. “Even though I’m broken?”
“We’re both a little broken, Eli.”
There’s barely any space between us. Energy leaps between our lips, hovering so close together. “But it’s the kind of broken that fits together,” he says in a husky whisper that sends tingles through me.
“The kind that fits together exactly,” I say, and press forward, unable to stand not kissing him any longer.