Chapter 23 - Jackson
Now
When I get back to the house, I don’t immediately seek Taevin out. Instead, I head straight to the basement to unload the bags in my hands.
After another half an hour, I finally make my way upstairs to find her.
“Tae,” I call out when I don’t see her in the main living area. My anxiety spikes when I check her bedroom and bathroom and realize she’s not in there either.
“Tae, baby, where are you?” I shout, taking the steps that lead upstairs two at a time.
My heart sinks when I find her curled up in a ball on one of the guest beds. As I get closer, I realize she’s asleep. Her cheeks have dried tear streak marks down them and her eyelashes still look wet as if she cried herself to sleep.
Goddammit.
I swipe her cheek with my thumb and curse myself for doing so when she wakes up.
“Jax,” she rasps in what sounds a lot like relief.
Unable to compose myself, my voice shakes as my apology comes spilling out. “I’m so, so sorry for walking out on you last night, Taevin. There’s no excuse for me just up and leaving.”
She grasps on to my forearm and tugs me closer. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I kept that from you for so long.”
“T, no.” I shake my head. “No, baby. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking sorry I wasn’t there for you when it happened, and even more sorry that I wasn’t there for you again last night.”
“Where did you go?” she asks in a somber tone.
Staring down at her, I take a deep breath. “First to a bar. And then when Griffin and McKenna found me there, they took me back to their place to sleep it off,” I explain, a mixture of regret and shame churning in my gut.
Taevin props herself up on one elbow and looks around the room, her eyes filling with tears as she does. “When you didn’t come back last night, I came upstairs to grab one of your shirts to sleep in like I used to when we dated.”
Looking down, it’s only now that I realize she’s wearing one of my faded Harvard T-shirts.
Tae’s lip quivers as she continues, “After I left your room, I came down the hall to this one. I don’t even know why, it just felt like something was pulling me here.
This room is so beautiful, so full of light now that the sun is up.
I love the window seats—” Her voice breaks, and I think I know why.
Exhaling on a shuttered breath, she whimpers, “It’s just like I always imagined it’d be.
All that’s missing is the furniture, but you had them build it just the way I said, didn’t you? ”
Tears stream down the tip of my nose and make dark spots where they fall on the bedding. “Yeah, baby, I did,” I croak.
I remember the exact day years ago when she told me she wanted all the kids’ rooms to be upstairs so they could take their pillows and blankets between rooms to sleep together when they were scared or wanted to make forts.
She requested a dormer window in each bedroom so they could have a place to get lost in a good book, but two specifically for the nursery to let in all the natural light possible.
But there’s no question what really tipped her off to the meaning of this particular space.
I follow her gaze to the last detail of her dreams for the room of late-night feeds and endless snuggles.
In the corner, catching all the natural light from the two deepest, largest dormer windows a man could draw up, is an antique rocking chair.
Nothing fancy, and certainly nothing comfortable, but something she never skipped when describing the perfect, cozy nursery for our babies.
I was a naive, hopeless romantic clinging to the possibility of a second chance with her the day I brought that home.
“Come lie down with me, Bear,” she whispers, patting the comforter.
I lie on the bed beside her and pull her against my chest as we take in the room.
“It’s even better than I could’ve imagined,” she murmurs, her voice full of pain.
There’s a reason I didn’t show her this bedroom when I gave her a tour of the house. I knew it would cause her heartache, I just didn’t realize then that seeing it together after learning she miscarried would break both our hearts.
“You said last night that our baby was a he?” I say, hoping like hell she’s still willing to talk to me about everything.
She sniffs. “I wasn’t far enough along to find out, but when I allowed myself to envision what could’ve been had I not miscarried, I always saw a baby boy. With your curly hair and my brown eyes.”
I have to fight back the tears that threaten to escape. “When—”
Before I can finish the question, she answers, “Remember when I told you I came to Boston? That’s when.
I’d been planning to visit Ryan once she got settled at school.
She’s actually the one who made me take a test and came with me to confirm my pregnancy.
I got to see him, hear his heartbeat for the first time only hours before it stopped.
I was actually at the party that night to tell you about the pregnancy. That’s when—”
A choked sob escapes her and my heart shatters into a million pieces.
I pull her further into my arms and we just sit there and cry together. I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually Tae wipes beneath her eyes and then does the same to mine before nuzzling her head back in place.
“I have to have my trigger shot tonight at eight o’clock,” she murmurs against my chest, which tightens in anticipation of her egg retrieval procedure tomorrow morning.
“I’ve already got an alarm set on my phone so we don’t forget. One for eight o’clock and one for an hour before in case we weren’t home.”
“If it’s alright with you, I think I’d prefer to just stay in today and have a lazy day,” Tae says softly, almost sleepily.
Rubbing my hand up and down her spine, I kiss the top of her head. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. But I do have a surprise in the basement for you if you’re up for it. If not, we can do it on a different day.”
Tae shifts so she can look up at me. “What kind of surprise?”
Bringing my arm beneath my head, I nearly get lost in her coffee-colored eyes. “A surprise I’m shocked I haven’t given away yet.”
That earns me a giggle, and the sound of her laughter heals me in ways I didn’t realize was possible.
“You always were terrible at holding in a secret, which meant you were shit at surprises or not immediately giving me a gift. Like when you gave me my birthday present three months early because you said you didn’t know where you’d hide it in your dorm. ”
I join in her laughter thinking about my panic at hiding that guitar. “In all honesty, I don’t think it would’ve been a birthday gift. I was too excited to give it to you and watch you play,” I admit.
She squeezes me around my waist as she lays her head back on my chest. “So, what’s this surprise?
I’m intrigued,” she says as she dances her fingers across my stomach, causing me to flex.
Flattening her palm against my stomach, she inches her hand lower and murmurs, “These are certainly more defined now than I remember.”
“If you keep feeling me up, we’re not going to get to your surprise, baby,” I rasp, grabbing her hand to stop it from trailing any farther.
Tae pouts and it’s one of the most adorable things ever. “Don’t give me that look.” When she doesn’t let up, I sit up and pull her off the bed with me. “Come on, you know I’m a sucker for that look.”
“I do, that’s why I’m not letting up until I get my way.”
Using my hand as a blinder, I shrug in her general direction. “Then I guess I’m not looking at you until after I show you your surprise.” Without looking back, I walk out of the room and down the steps to the basement. I smile when I hear her sigh and then follow after me.
The basement has been a work-in-progress. I’ve finished it in phases, prioritizing certain rooms over others. One of them being this surprise.
I lead her down the hall to where my home gym is. The glass wall of black-paned doors leading into the gym is one of my favorite features in the house.
“Where are you taking me?” she questions as I lead her through the gym doors. “I’m still on restrictions,” Tae points out and I chuckle at that, because does she really think my surprise is bringing her to the basement to work out together?
“It’s just through here,” I explain, grabbing her hand in mine as I lead her to the far wall of the gym.
When I gave her a tour of the house before her hysterectomy, I told her this door was for a changing room off the gym because I didn’t have the surprise finished at the time.
But over the course of her healing these past few weeks, the last of the materials arrived and it’s finally ready for the big reveal.
Just as I’m about to open the door, she tugs on my hand to stop me.
“Seriously, J. Where are you taking me? Oh, do you have some sort of kink about christening every room in the house? Because if so, I can think of about a dozen other rooms I’d rather do that in than the gym changing room. No offense.”
“None taken. And I’ll store that idea away for later, but that’s not what this is about. I may have told a little white lie when I said this was a changing room.” Reaching behind me, I turn the handle and watch her face register what I mean when the door opens to the dimly lit room.
She covers her mouth and gasps. “Jax, what is this?”
“I’m sure you’re used to more state-of-the-art equipment, but I got the best of what was available to me in hopes you could record music here when the mood strikes,” I explain, guiding her into the home studio I had originally built into the home but left empty.
Standing behind her, I wrap one arm around her waist while using the other to point to different things in the room.