Chapter 21 Gio
GIO
“Come on, Jay! We’ve gotta go!” Stephanie calls up the stairs from the entry, and I can’t help but smile.
Dressed in a pair of Daisy Dukes, a Chicago Fire FC jersey shirt, and high-top All-Stars, she looks fit for our night out.
She also looks like she could still be in her teens, and I can’t deny that, even as the mother of a seven-year-old, Stephanie is in incredible condition.
But what has me smiling is the way she practically bounces on the balls of her feet with excitement—not for herself, but for Jackson, because this is going to be his first live professional soccer game.
And we’ve got midfield seats.
I could have booked a suite, but I wanted his first experience to be the real deal, in the thick of things, where he can feel the energy from the crowd.
“I’m coming!” Jackson calls, his feet pounding down the hallway a second later.
He’s wearing a Chicago Fire jersey as well and is now wearing a regular pair of shorts and a baseball cap—Stephanie had to talk him out of dressing up in his full soccer getup, cleats and all, just in case they needed him to step in for an injured player or something.
The kid is priceless.
“Much better,” Stephanie says, pulling Jackson into her side.
“Ready to hit the road?” I ask, gripping the front door handle of their townhome.
“Ready,” Jackson agrees, his smile splitting his face.
We pile into the Volvo and join the traffic flooding in around the stadium as we head for Soldier Field.
Jackson gives us a steady stream of information from the back seat as I drive, everything from how jealous Tanner was that Jackson got to go to the game all the way out to his favorite players on the team, what their stats are, and who he wants to see most.
Stephanie smiles at me surreptitiously from the passenger seat, her fingers squeezing my palm as she mouths a silent thank you when Jackson yells, “Oh, cool!” as he peers out the side window at the stadium.
My heart squeezes, and I lace our fingers together, brushing the pad of my thumb across her knuckles as I turn my attention back to the road with a grin.
This feels so perfectly ordinary, like we’re just another family going to a sporting event.
And yet, after weeks of regularly eating dinner with Jackson and Stephanie, after I’ve even started to spend the night now that Stephanie’s spoken to her son about it—I still can’t believe how well things are going.
Waking up to cook breakfast for them in the morning is one of my favorite new things to do.
And where, ten years ago, I used to tease Stephanie about her dream life because she always focused on the little things, I’m starting to get it now.
The normalcy of it all makes me feel like we have a chance of becoming a real family.
Waking up every morning to make sure Jackson gets to school on time.
Sitting down for dinner together at the same time every night. And finding new adventures on the weekends.
I could get used to this.
But in the quiet moments—like when I pull into a stadium parking spot, and Stephanie and Jackson pile out of the car, leaving me to round the back of it to rejoin them—the truth I’m hiding still eats at me.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to tell Stephanie everything, but when the moment comes, I can never bring myself to pull the trigger.
Because I can’t lose her again.
And if she knew what I’m keeping from her, I don’t doubt that’s what would happen.
Merging with the flow of human bodies, we head toward the stadium, and Stephanie forms a chain, taking Jackson’s hand and mine to ensure we don’t get separated.
“These are our seats?” Jackson gawks as we settle at the edge of a row halfway up from the field.
“Yeah, that work for you?” I ask playfully.
“Are you kidding?” he demands, his green eyes—so much like his mom’s—nearly popping out of his head. “We’ll see everything from here!”
Stephanie laughs, combing the wild tangles of Jackson’s curls back from his face.
“You two want any food or drinks?” I ask as they take their seats at the midfield line. “I think I’ll grab a beer.”
“A beer sounds nice,” Stephanie agrees.
“Mom, can I get some nachos? I saw some on the way in, and they looked really good,” Jackson pleads.
“You’re hungry again already?” she asks, her eyebrows arching.
Jackson nods.
“Then, sure.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “If Gio doesn’t mind.”
I chuckle. “Not at all. I’ll be right back.”
“Can I come?” Jackson asks, hopping back up. “You know, to help carry stuff,” he suggests, like I might not agree to it otherwise.
“As long as your mom doesn’t mind being left to fend for herself,” I tease, glancing up to meet her eyes.
“I’ll hold down the fort,” she agrees.
Jackson and I head back toward the concession stands, and I keep a close eye on him as he strides proudly beside me.
He’s been talking nonstop about tonight ever since I invited them to the game, and I love how well I hit the nail on the head finding something he would enjoy.
The crowd around us thickens, the flow of traffic moving against us, and Jackson falters as his confidence wanes.
When he steps closer to me, reaching for my hand so he won’t get lost in the crowd, my heart feels like it might explode.
I close my fingers around his tiny palm, a deep, instinctual desire to protect him surging through me.
It hasn’t come up again since my second first date with Stephanie, but it’s moments like this that make me know, without a shadow of doubt, that I want to be in their lives.
It doesn’t matter to me who Jackson’s biological father is. If Stephanie doesn’t need to know, neither do I.
I already love Jackson like he’s my own son because I love Stephanie with every fiber of my being, and Jackson is half of her—plus he’s one of the coolest kids I’ve ever met.
“Where’d you see those nachos?” I ask, leading him toward a less crowded part of the mezzanine so he won’t feel quite so overwhelmed.
“Um.” Jackson looks around, then his face lights in a victorious smile as he jabs a finger toward the nachos stand. “There!”
We wait in line, Jackson talking animatedly about the cool tricks he’s learned in soccer lately.
Then, when it’s our turn, I encourage him to order his nachos—and a Coke, which I hope Stephanie will be okay with Jackson drinking.
I order two lagers, and as we wait for the concession worker to put it all together, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
When I pull it out, the caller ID tells me it’s one of the investigators my family has always kept close connections with.
My pulse quickens, and I glance at the concession worker then Jackson.
“Can I leave you in charge of paying for our order while I take a quick call?” I ask. “Just have her set it off to the side, and we can grab it in a second.”
“Sure,” Jackson says, taking on his responsibility with all the gravity of someone being sworn in to the Oval Office as I hand him my credit card.
With a smile, I step away—just a few feet so he won’t hear me but close enough that I can still keep an eye on him.
“Hey, Howard. What’ve you got for me?” I ask, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Well, to be frank, not a whole lot,” he says, voice bland with frustration.
I was afraid of that, but I’m not ready to give up.
In my free time, since my brothers have given me their blessing to step down as Don, I’ve started to do some digging into Stephanie’s past—to try and find her hospital records and get to the bottom of what happened to her after she was taken.
But so far, it’s proven trickier than I thought it would be since medical records are confidential and multiple “Jane Does” were admitted into Chicago hospitals around the time she disappeared.
After how defensive my questions made her before, I haven’t tried broaching the subject to get more details again—so I didn’t have a lot for Howard to go on when I asked him to look into it.
But I have to know.
“I’m still trying to narrow down which one is our Jane Doe, and while I’ve confirmed with several hospitals that the woman we’re looking for was not in those locations, a few others are being sticklers about the whole HIPAA thing.”
“Merda,” I growl. “Keep trying. Break in to get those records if you have to.”
“That’ll cost you extra.”
“You know I’m good for the money.”
Howard gives a grunt of acknowledgment. “I’ll call you again when I have more.”
Hanging up quickly, I head back to the counter, matching Jackson’s grin when I find him munching happily on a cheese-coated chip.
“Ready?” I ask as he passes my card back to me.
He nods, licking his fingers so he can take his soda as well. I grab the two beers, holding them in one hand so I can place the other on the nape of his neck, a silent reassurance that we’ll make it back to our seats together.
“Soda!” Stephanie gasps as soon as we rejoin her, and I cringe, meeting her eyes with an apologetic look.
“We thought it’d be okay since it’s the weekend,” I explain.
Stephanie grins. “Well, I suppose it is a big evening. You'd just better not be up all night, Jay,” she warns.
“I won’t,” he promises with such earnestness, I could almost believe he’s developed the magical ability to will himself to sleep.
He turns his attention back to the field, where things are really starting to gear up, and I chuckle as I settle into the seat beside Stephanie.
Leaning against the arm that separates our chairs, she accepts the beer I offer her, then gives me a quick peck on the cheek that makes my skin tingle. “I was just teasing about the Coke. You did great. Thank you for making this day so special.”
Turning to meet her eyes, I trap her chin with my fingers. “I’d do anything for you two,” I assure her softly, and her breath catches, her eyes heating.
I steal a quick, molten kiss, and before I can get too carried away, the stands erupt into cheers, Jackson jumping to his feet as the announcer welcomes the players onto the field.