Chapter 17Jack
Chapter 17
Jack
Warm water runs into the sink. I tap my razor against the edge.
Over the sound of running water, I can hear giggles.
Clearly, my nieces have returned from the beach, and they’re goofing around. If Brett, Corinne, and the kiddos are back, I bet that means Hazel cleared out.
Darn .
I wanted to finish our discussion. It’s too fun when she gets flustered like she does. Makes me feel sky-high in a way I’m not used to.
I swipe the last of the shaving cream off my face with my razor, then rinse with warm water.
I hate shaving, but my scrubby look was getting out of control.
Besides, I’ll have to pose for another pic with Hazel today, and I don’t want her mom to think I’m some beach bum.
I step out of the bathroom with my toiletries bag and cross the hallway to the room I’m using this week.
My stuff’s strewn all over the place. I find a shirt I haven’t worn yet and pull it on.
When I amble out toward the bungalow’s central area, it’s with the full expectation of seeing my brother and his family.
To my surprise, Hazel’s right there at the table with them.
The girls are trying to share a chair on Hazel’s right. They’ve squeezed their chair in so close to hers that the seats are touching. Lia’s leg rests on Hazel’s lap as if she’s two seconds from climbing on Hazel like she’s some jungle gym.
And… Hazel doesn't seem to mind.
She turns to look down at Lia. When I see the warm, nurturing look on Hazel’s pretty features, my heart skips a beat.
I stop walking.
My chest aches. Not in a bad way… but in an intense way.
Hazel’s good with kids .
As I watch, she reaches out to touch the ruffles on the shoulder strap of Lia’s suit. Lia basks in the glow of Hazel’s kind attention.
Jasmine’s enamored, too. She reaches for the coffee pot and carefully tops off Hazel’s mug.
Hazel responds to something Corinne has said—or maybe Brett. Hard to tell because… man .
My heart’s dilating and expanding.
Weird, how this ache has turned into something deeper.
I’m thirty-two. That age when it’s normal to think about becoming a father. I’ve just never met a woman I could imagine going on that journey with.
When I was growing up, Corinne was a staple in our house. She and Brett were best friends from about eleven on, and that friendship turned to dating when they hit sixteen.
I saw their relationship become rock-solid as they went through ups and downs together. They married young and had Jasmine. It changed both of them, becoming parents.
I grew up hoping to be lucky enough to have that same thing someday.
Real love, like they had.
A real, lasting, rock-solid partnership.
I wondered if I’d know, when I met the future mother of my children.
Brett always knew, with Corinne. It was almost like destiny for them. At least, that’s how it seemed to me as a kid.
And I sometimes wondered, in my teens, if I had that same kind of destiny written out for me.
I wondered if the woman for me was living her own life and, one day, our paths would finally cross.
I gave up on that, though.
I even started to give up on the idea of kids.
Because… I’m not going to have them if it doesn’t feel right. And it never has. When I was with Jess, I played around with visions of a future that didn’t include a family because she was never psyched about being around kids.
Right now, my feet won’t move. I can’t walk forward into the scene unfolding before me.
The image I’m seeing—Hazel, being so sweet with my nieces—reaches into my chest and stirs my heart.
This scene brings up a dream I gave up on and buried.
She could be the mother of my children one day.
As soon as that thought flits through my head, fear grips me.
The cold, icy fingers of doubt clutch my chest. In my head, I let a few curse words rip.
No way.
I can’t think things like that…
Not about Hazel Thorpe.
She’s not the future mother of my offspring… She's my future manager .
Get it together, I tell myself.
I rake my hands through my damp hair and move forward.
As usual, Ophelia jumps out of her seat at the sight of me. She races my way, gives me her usual hug, and then scampers back to her seat—she doesn’t want to lose her half of the chair she’s sharing with her sister.
Her black braids whip around her head as she looks over her shoulder at me. “We got donuts!” She holds a mangled one up to show me, then takes a bite. “Also, we told Hazel?—”
“Manners, sweetie,” Corinne interjects patiently.
Ophelia chews and swallows. Now, without a mouthful, she goes on. “We told her you know every word to every Tay Tay song.”
Hazel now glances at me, too. She quirks an eyebrow my way. “So, not a Swiftie, hm? You’re gonna stick to that? I hear you’ve attended concerts.”
Traitors .
I pretend to scowl at my nieces as I walk around the table and pick up a mug. “Okay, which one of you two ratted me out?”
“What’s ratted out?” Ophelia asks.
Jasmine points to Ophelia with both hands, silently implicating her.
I chuckle. “Okay, so it’s out.”
“This is more serious than finding a few melodies catchy,” Hazel says, eyes twinkling. She sips from her mug and watches me over the rim with those beautiful, golden-brown eyes.
I love how comfortable she appears here at the table with my family.
Brett, Corinne, and the kids are my family. Sure, I had a few reasons to return to my hometown after my years in the city. I missed being able to pop in on my folks. I missed the dirt bike tracks and the Slickrock trails that traverse the deserts surrounding downtown. But most of all, I moved back to Moab to live right down the road from these guys.
My brother and his wife and my nieces—they’re my pack.
Maybe one day I’ll have a wife and kids and make this crew of ours bigger.
Not gonna think about that right now.
Shoot.
I can’t help it…
I know that this stirring feeling in my chest has to do with family.
How, for me, this is what really matters. More than money, more than action sports, more than thrills.
This is what it’s all about, and it’s almost painful to admit how much I’ve wanted it over the years.
I wanted it, but I believed it wouldn’t happen.
Jess never got along with Brett and Corinne. She used to skip out on trips to Moab with me with the flimsiest of excuses: a manicure appointment or a shopping trip with a friend. It ate at me that they didn’t all get along—that she wouldn’t even attempt to get to know my crew. But I refused to get hung up on it because I figured there was no way one person could check all your boxes.
But Hazel… man. She’s sorta checking all my boxes.
“...and two summers ago, we all drove to Red Rocks,” Ophelia gleefully reports while waving her donut around. “And Uncle Jack was on the big screen for his dance moves!”
Hazel giggles silently into her cup. She studies me across the table.
I haven’t sat down yet.
Don’t know if I can do it.
It’s just sitting at a table, but it feels like more to me.
Like it would be taking this thing between us to a deeper level. The people closest to me in this life are sitting around this table… and now she’s right here with them.
It boggles my mind to see her fit so seamlessly into my world.
“Show her the dance move, Uncle Jack,” Jasmine says.
I reach for a donut. “No way.” I take a big bite.
“Oh, come on,” Corinne prods. Her eyes sparkle with glee, but she’s keeping a lid on it better than her daughters. “What’s the big deal? Just do the move.”
Brett—curse him—gets to his feet.
He bends his knees, makes his hands into fists, and starts rocking his shoulders. He tries to do my move.
He can’t do my move, because my older brother has two left feet and old-man knees.
“No, no!” Corinne says, waving her hands in front of her face. “You’re butchering it, honey!”
“It looked cooler than that, Dad,” Jasmine agrees.
Ophelia bounces up and tries the move. She’s better than her dad; I’ll give her that.
“You guys gotta put more into it,” I tell them.
Hazel’s shoulders rock as she giggles.
I can’t let my brother and my niece flail like this. Gotta help them. So, I do it. I do my move: I hitch my shoulders and let them bounce to a beat I can hear in my head. I crouch down low. I pop my chest. The whole bit.
Corinne, breathless with laughter, starts clapping.
Hazel joins in. She’s laughing so hard that she’s crying.
Jasmine squeals. “That’s it! That’s what he did when the camera was on him!”
The next thing I know, Jasmine snatches her mother’s phone and pulls up a song. The catchy tune pumps out of the speaker. I can’t help it that I was born to dance to this stuff!
Brett, at my side, tries to imitate me.
“Bro, loosen up,” I tell him. Man, this music is catchy.
“You have to actually move your shoulders, Dad,” Ophelia says. She’s a natural, and now she’s doing her own crazy moves.
Jasmine jumps up to join them.
Corinne leans across the table to speak to Hazel. Even though she puts her hand up to hide her lips, I hear the words. “You’d be surprised at how often meals turn into dance parties with this lot.”
Accurate .
I’m breathless when the song ends, and my legs are burning. If you dance, you have to go all in.
I flop down into a chair. I guess it’s the endorphins making me lower my guard. Now I’m sitting at the table with Hazel Thorpe and my pack.
When her laughter dies down, she steals a look at me.
My eyes snag on hers. Maybe she knows what this means to me. Hazel’s like that; she picks up on things.
She looks down to her coffee, but it’s too late. The moment we had together twisted my heart into even more of a mess.
I grab a donut, so I don’t have to think about it.
Forty-five minutes later, I polish off the last of the bite. I’ve downed two cups of coffee while listening to a conversation that was mostly about once-endangered sea turtles but also touched on the topic of math homework— “gross,” according to Lia—and jellyfish—also gross, according to Jasmine.
Brett and Corinne promised the kids a trip to the pool after breakfast. As far as I could tell, they cleared out after a whirlwind of activity mostly centered around who would apply sunscreen to whom.
“Wow,” Hazel says the minute the door closes.
“Yep. That’s what it’s like with those guys.”
“And you are the zany uncle, I see.”
“Ha. Yeah. Tough work, but someone has to do it.” I carry the empty coffee pot to the sink and run water into it until it’s full. When I turn to go back to the table, there she is.
She has a few empty mugs with her. She carries them to the sink. “You don’t seem to mind the job. Concerts, hm?”
I follow her with the last of the dishes in my hands. “Two a year, when we can make it happen.”
“Bet you were famous after your fabulous dance debut on the big screen.”
“I got a couple numbers.” That’s a massive understatement. I was pretty much tackled in the parking lot after that show. It was like every single mom in the vicinity wanted to write her number on my arm. Brett was my bodyguard, and Corinne had to drive getaway. Jasmine and Ophelia mostly laughed their heads off.
“Your brother knows I own a fax machine. Can you explain that?”
I duck back out to the table. We all crushed the box of donuts. There are only crumbs left. I manage to fit the empty box into a recycling bin already overflowing with bottles. “Um, hm. I guess I did mention that to him.”
“Why?” She picks up a few paper napkins and tosses them into the trash.
Now that the table’s cleared, I swipe a rag over it. It’s wild how many chocolate-icing and jelly-filling streaks we managed to make over the course of one meal.
“Because it’s unusual. Old-fashioned.” I carry the rag to the sink and drop it in. “It was one of the few things I knew about you, and I sorta formed a whole story about it. That, and your landline.”
She follows me into the kitchen, her cell phone now in her hands.
“You do have a cell, so why the landline?” I gesture to the phone she’s now looking at.
She looks at the device and cringes with guilt. “Agh, sorry, I’m on it again, aren’t I? It’s another addiction.”
She sets it down with an air of determination and then leans against the counter. “Landlines are helpful in my town because sometimes the cell service is spotty. It’s good to have backup in case of an emergency.”
She smells deliciously good—like sugary icing and salty ocean air. Sunlight filters through the blinds beside us and lights up her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. I again notice how beautiful she is without makeup.
The temptation to go in for a kiss hits me like a linebacker.
Nearly knocks me off my feet.
My voice sounds sort of croaky when I go on. “For some reason, I always pictured you in your sixties… with a cat crossing the keyboard and a cup of tea at your elbow. Maybe a cardigan buttoned up to your neck.”
She laughs. “Really?”
“Really. Told you, I made up a story. Filled in the blanks I didn’t know.”
“You got my age wrong. And I don’t have a cat. I drink coffee, not tea.”
“You drink coffee like a champ, Sport. I saw the way Jasmine kept filling your cup.”
“I think I’m addicted. Also, let’s talk about this nickname of yours. I’m not sure I like it.”
“There are worse things you could be hooked on than coffee. And that’s how nicknames go. They choose you, not the other way around.”
I pretend to brace when she gives me a feather-light shove.
“Oof!” I make a big show of going backward and bouncing back. “Okay, so… cardigan? Or was I off about that, too?”
“I don’t even own one cardigan.” She holds up a finger to show me. “Not a single one.”
“Then, what do you wear when you’re typing up those perfectly polite missives of yours?”
Is it wrong that I want to know as much as possible about her before this week ends?
“I usually work in a hoodie and sweats, which sounds lazy. I’m gonna change that up when I get home.”
“Making some changes, hm?”
She nods, and her teasing smile fades. “I think I had to get away to realize what a rut I was in.” She gets a far-off look about her as she studies the dishes in the sink. “So, yeah, some things are going to change.”
It sweeps through me again—that urge to kiss her.
Maybe it’s because now she looks a little sad. I want to pull her out of whatever spiral she’s slipping into.
If I could kiss her right now, I know I could make her stop worrying about whatever is pinching the corners of her eyes, tugging at her pretty lips.
Even just thinking about kissing her makes this magnetic pull start up between her body and mine. I want to close the gap between us.
I take a breath to try to steady myself. “Yeah… me, too, I think.”
It’s time to let go of the years I spent with Jess. It’s time for me to move on.
I have a whole life ahead of me.
This time with Hazel is proving that to me.
She raises her eyes. “Your sister-in-law mentioned the rough patch you’re going through with someone named Jess. She’s the ex you talked about in the hot tub, right…? The one who’s getting married soon?”
“Yep.” It comes out throaty, a growl. That’s only because somehow, even though I tried not to, I moved closer to her.
And she stepped in closer to me.
Our bodies are inches away from touching. She’s looking up at me with those wide eyes.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks.
“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”
“I bet there is. You lived with her, right? It must have hurt when it ended. These things leave wounds.”
“Yeah, but maybe they teach us, too. Maybe I had to learn about what wasn’t good for me to recognize when something really good came my way.”
“Some thing good?”
“Some one good.”
I can tell by her hesitation that my words are scaring her. She bites her lip, then looks down at a dishrag and runs her fingers along one frayed edge.
I don’t want to scare her.
I don’t want to come on too strong because I know this is complicated.
But at the same time, it’s hard to hold back.
With each passing day—each hour, each minute—it gets clearer to me that I am falling in love with the woman right in front of me.
There’s not much I can do about it if that scares her. I can try to soften my words, not put it all out there, but I have to let at least some of it out.
“Jack, you know how last night, you said that thing about how you’re not in a good state of mind, for… for whatever… whatever might be happening with us?”
“I didn’t do that well, explaining it.”
“No, you did fine. I got it. I get it. Because I’m not exactly in a good place, either… I know I made it sound like nothing when I blurted out that thing about how I dated a dentist. But it wasn’t nothing. That chapter of my life really messed with me. I’ve been keeping to myself since then.”
“Totally okay,” I say as if I know what I’m talking about.
Confidence is my default. I come out swinging and take a stab at things even when it’s out of my area of expertise.
However, I’m no therapist, so after that short statement, I’m at a loss.
I don’t know what else to say.
I don’t think it’s okay for her to isolate herself because she’s afraid. Especially because now that I know I’m falling for her, I can only hope she’ll let her guard down a little and give me a chance, too.
I don’t know how to put all that into words. So, instead of saying more, I reach out for her hand. I do it without even thinking.
I run my fingertips over the back of her hand, then up her arm. She sinks in closer to me. When I reach my arms around her and hug her tight, I feel her muscles relax. Her breath warms my chest.
“It’s not okay,” she whispers into my chest. “I said that thing about how I have what I need, but?—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I—I want to… at least try. I don’t have everything I need. It hurts to say that, but that’s the truth. Sometimes I feel really lonely.”
“Phases pass,” I tell her as I rub her back.
“Gosh, I hope so.”
“We’ll both get through the rough stuff, and we’ll both be okay.”
Silence settles over us. It feels incredibly good to hug her like this. Her arms circle my waist, and our bodies fit together perfectly.
That expansive feeling in my chest happens again, only stronger this time. The ache isn’t uncomfortable. It’s just a feeling that lets me know I’m growing because I’m letting her in.
I’m letting Hazel into my heart.
The warm feeling floods me when she peels back and tilts her face up to mine. My whole body feels like it’s glowing.
“Jack, can you… would you please—” she whispers.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have to say it, Hazel,” I whisper back. I know what she wants; it’s in her eyes. “I can’t unless you ask me to.”
“Please kiss me.”
“You sure?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not really… so you have to do it now before I change my mind. Please.”
This invitation is all I need.