40. Fallon
Chapter forty
Fallon
I take a look at the clock and wonder how I’m going to get him away from my body and his mind off sex.
His family’s about to be here in… well, three minutes ago. And Jeb doesn’t know. They’re bringing lasagna and garlic bread, and I have salad in the fridge and a cake hidden in the oven. I can’t have Jeb snacking on my face with a tent in pants when they come to the door.
Especially since, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m nervous to meet Jeb’s family. We’ve video-called his sister and nieces. I actually think I met his sister years ago with Shay, but I don’t know her as Jeb’s girlfriend… if that’s what we are.
There’s no label on anything yet, but every time he comes over, I ask him to spend the night. And each time he comes over he brings a small bag of clothes or things he might need for the night that he doesn’t take back to his house. The cabinet in the hall bathroom has Jeb’s razors, spare deodorant, floss sticks, and body wash. He also brought extra fluffy white bath towels. Now that I know such luxury exists, I don’t know if I can ever live without them.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I tell him, pushing him away so I can hop off the counter and buy some time before everyone arrives.
“Mmm.” He squeezes my hips and lowers me to the ground. “I’ll have you later. What do you want me to make for dinner?”
“Let me think about it while I pee,” I stall. Jeb follows to change in the bedroom. When I come back, he’s in gray sweatpants and no shirt. He’ll probably wish he had more clothes on once they get here, but that will be his problem. It’s his family, after all.
I hear the girls before Jeb does, and I pretend I don’t. As soon as he hears them, he snaps his head toward mine.
“A couple of months too early for trick-or-treaters.” He smiles skeptically. A series of knocks on the front door has Jeb on his feet. “And I know those little voices.” He looks at me quizzically, scanning my face to see if I know about the impending visit.
“Vay Vay! Flor!” Jeb’s voice raises an octave, and he drops to his knees as his nieces hug/tackle him. He loses his balance and falls backward into the house with the girls.
“I specifically told them not to tackle you, but here we are.” Sophie steps around the pile of people on the floor, careful not to drop the hot tray of lasagna.
Her husband, Ford, and Jeb’s parents follow. Jeb hasn’t noticed them yet. He’s too enthralled with his nieces.
“You can just set them on the counter,” I tell both Sophie and Ford, who’s also carrying a large tray.
Introductions are skipped when Jeb’s mom comes through the doorway. Wide-eyed, she drops her purse on the ground with a clunky thud. The rest of us have a front-row seat to her facial expressions as she witnesses, with awe, the healing of her son.
She clasps her hands in front of her heart, then over her mouth, then back to her heart. Jeb laughs as the girls tickle him, then he crawls to the middle of the family room with Vaeda on his back and Flora asking for the next dinosaur ride.
My heart lurches into my throat, just like the rest of them—although my reasons are probably different. While Morris, Eliza, Sophie, and Ford are in awe of Jeb’s laughter and general happiness, I’ve been privy to that for a while.
What I haven’t seen is him enjoying children. My ovaries spasm with the thought of Jeb holding a little baby or pushing a toddler on a swing. He'd be a good dad.
“Holy shit,” Jeb’s mom murmurs, her hands back to her mouth. “Do you see this?” She looks toward the kitchen island, where Morris stands.
“I mean, I knew he was doing better, but not this good,” Jeb’s dad answers.
“Girls, let Uncle Jeb stand for a second so he can say hi to Mee-maw and Pap,” Sophie instructs.
“What’s the occasion?” Jeb looks at me with one eyebrow raised. It's a random weeknight, and his sister lives an hour away, so this isn’t a normal occurrence.
I walk away to grab the cake box from above the refrigerator, revealing a sheet cake that only says rats in blue cursive. Jeb laughs, holding his stomach.
“For my first full day back to work? You guys didn’t have to do this, really.” He scans the group of us as he says it. “But let me put some clothes on, and we can dig in. Bet you’re hungry, aren’t you, Vay.”
“I’ve been hungry for the Lasagna since we made it at Mee-maw’s an hour ago,” Vaeda replies.
“Yasagna is my favorite.” Flora peeks from behind her mom’s leg.
“Well, nice to meet everyone, officially,” I say to the group of them, and Eliza starts to cry. I feel like I already know them, but I want to make the introduction official anyway. I talked to Eliza on the phone shortly after the accident a few times, but that seems like so long ago.
“We can’t tell you how much you’ve changed Jeb. As a mom, I wished and prayed that I would find the answer. I wanted to make him better, to help him find clarity and peace with the accident and all the things that came with it. I knew we’d never be the same, but I wanted just a pinch of the old Jeb back. He didn’t need my help to find that, though. He needed you. And I could never thank you enough for that.” Eliza wraps me in a hug, and the gang piles on like a football huddle.
“We both needed each other,” I murmur, squished in the middle of the family hug. “And he makes a mean breakfast,” I chuckle.
“Can you guys let her breathe?” Jeb returns, dressed.
“Dey was jus’ huggin’ her,” Flora explains.
The group disperses, laughing at Flora’s explanation. Jeb wraps his arm around my shoulder, hugging me to his side and kissing the top of my head.
“Thanks for this,” he whispers. “My mom’s right, you know.”
“You changed me, too,” I whisper back while his family wildly takes over the kitchen, pulling lids off trays and pouring milk for the kids.
The night flies by faster than I realize when Sophie and her family get ready to leave once Flora falls asleep across Jeb’s lap on the couch. Jeb’s whole family is great, but I especially love the stories of his childhood, like how he was the kid who always accompanied his classmates to the nurse if they were injured or sick. His teacher made a position just for him. They called him “The Nurse Helper.”
When he was six, he had a run-in with scissors, cutting his sister’s bangs when she complained her hair was in her face. His helping tendencies went both ways, good and bad. Vaeda and Flora barely left Jeb alone the whole time he was here, so it was nice to chat with the adults while we watched Jeb with the girls.
“Come back soon.” He hugs Vaeda in the driveway while they buckle Flora in the car.
“We will,” Sophie says. “And you guys can come down to us too. The girls want you to see their new playset.”
“Sounds perfect,” I add.
Jeb’s parents are wiping off the kitchen counter and folding blankets meant for the couch when we get back inside.
“Just want to help out a bit before we leave but we’ll get out of your hair,” his mom says, wiping her hands on a towel. She feels like a warm presence in the kitchen. Happy. Helping. Kind.
“Thanks so much.” I slide onto one of the stools at the island, and Jeb stands behind me.
“I still can’t believe you guys surprised me with this. I’m going to want to go to work every day if I come home to lasagna and all my favorite people.” He smiles and squeezes a hand to my hip.
“Fish biting still?” his dad asks, gesturing to the river.
“They’re hit or miss, but you can come down any time and throw a rod in,” Jeb offers, like he lives here, and I like that more than I should.
“Remember what I used to say about throwing rods in?”
“Don’t let go?”
“Exactly.”
I look around the room as Morris rakes his eyebrows up and down toward Jeb, and Eliza smiles. I think I’m missing something, but I don’t ask. It’s probably another childhood story about Jeb throwing a rod in and letting go.
“He’d fish a lot better if he didn’t put the rod down every five minutes to check on my paintings,” I say, trying to stand up for him. I don’t think he’s caught a single fish the past few times we’ve been out.
“Ah, I see.” His dad smirks.
“Let’s get out of here, babe.” Eliza grabs his elbow and starts for the door. “Remember when fishing used to be a euphemism for us too?”
“Our parents must’ve thought we were the world’s greatest fishermen with all the fishing we’d do.” They both giggle.
“It’s not a euphemism,” Jeb explains as we follow them to the front door and off the steps. “We really do fish!”
“Well, it’s funner if it is.” Morris slaps Eliza’s ass as she gets in the passenger seat, and Jeb groans.
“That’s enough.” Jeb tries to sound stern but laughs instead.
“Nice to meet you, again,” I shout.
As soon as the front door closes behind us, Jeb hauls me in his arms, running to the bedroom.
“Let’s fish.” He grins, tossing me on the bed, pulling my pants off.
“I’m hooked.” I laugh as I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’ve been hooked.” He climbs the bed to kiss me.
Gentle and sweet, he kisses me like I’m something to be savored. He holds my head with one hand and rubs my arm with another. He drops kisses on my cheek and my jawline, between twirling tongues with mine.
It’s soft and sensual. I buck my hips toward his to get some friction where I want it the most.
“Touch me,” I say, lifting my hips.
Jeb smiles. “There’s plenty of time, Fal. I’m not going anywhere.”
He stands to take his clothes off. I take my shirt and bra off at the same time. Instead of resuming his position on top of me, he walks around to the side of the bed and snuggles under the covers.
“Jeb! What the heck!”
“Under the covers, baby.” He pats the empty space beside him when I hover next to the bed. “I don’t have to be up early tomorrow morning, and neither do you. Tonight, I want long, lazy, cuddly sex. The kind where I leave halfway through—”
He stops when I scoff.
“To get chocolate syrup and whipped cream and watch you tie the stem of a cherry with your tongue.”
“Okay, but that’s the only way I’m letting you out of this bed.” I snuggle under the blankets and throw a leg over his hip.