Chapter 11
ALEXA
The afternoon light filtering through my living room windows has shifted from bright to golden, signaling that evening is approaching. Henry sits contentedly in the bouncy seat I borrowed from Jordan’s house, watching Ash read on the couch with serious concentration.
It’s been three hours since I talked to Jordan and offered to stay longer with Henry, and I’m starting to wonder where he is. Not that it’s any of my business, but when someone says they have one more stop to make and then disappears for half the afternoon, it makes me curious.
“Mom, can I have screen time now?” Ash looks up from his book, marking his place with his finger. “I finished my chapter.”
“Did you write down the summary?”
He holds up his reading log, dutifully filled out with today’s chapter summary. “Yep. Can I play my Nintendo now?”
“Thirty minutes,” I tell him, and he grins as he heads to his room to get his device.
Henry makes a soft cooing sound and reaches for the toy dangling from his bouncy seat.
He’s been an angel all afternoon, content to nap, eat, and play while Ash regaled him with stories about laser tag and arcade games.
The spending money from Jordan made Ash’s day, and seeing my son happy made the strange situation with our neighbor feel even more worthwhile.
I check my phone again. No messages from Jordan. Part of me wants to text him, just to make sure everything’s okay, but that feels like overstepping. He’s not required to give me a detailed itinerary of his afternoon.
Still, there’s something about the way he looked when he left this morning that’s been nagging at me. Distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
The sound of a car door closing makes me look out the front window. Jordan’s walking up my front steps, and even from here, I can see the exhaustion in his posture. His shoulders are slumped, his movements slower than usual. Whatever he’s been doing for the past few hours, it’s taken a toll.
I open the door before he has a chance to knock. “Hey. How did the errands go?”
“Fine. Good. Thanks for staying late.” He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m beginning to recognize as his go-to when he’s stressed. “How was Henry?”
“Perfect. He’s been content all afternoon. Ash entertained him with stories about his day.”
At the mention of his name, Henry’s face lights up when he sees Jordan. His whole body wiggles with excitement, and he reaches both arms toward his uncle with a delighted squeal.
Jordan’s expression transforms instantly. The weariness disappears, replaced by a smile so genuine it makes my chest warm. “Hey there, buddy. Did you miss me?”
He lifts Henry from the bouncy seat, and Henry immediately snuggles against his chest, babbling in what sounds like his version of conversation. It’s the first time I’ve seen Henry this genuinely happy to see Jordan, and the effect on both of them is obvious.
“He really missed you,” I say, watching the interaction with a smile of my own.
“I think he’s finally starting to get used to me.” Jordan’s voice is softer than usual, filled with something that sounds like relief. “Maybe I’m not completely hopeless at this.”
“You were never hopeless. Just learning.”
“Jordan!” Ash appears in the hallway, Nintendo in hand. “You’re back! How was your day?”
“Good, thanks. How was yours? Did you have fun at laser tag?”
Ash launches into an enthusiastic recap of his afternoon. Jordan listens with what appears to be genuine interest, asking questions and making appropriate impressed sounds.
Watching them together, I’m struck again by how naturally Jordan interacts with Ash. He doesn’t talk down to him or dismiss his excitement. He treats him like a person whose opinions matter.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Ash asks when he finishes his story. “Mom’s making spaghetti.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” Jordan says quickly, looking at me. “You’ve already done so much today.”
“You’re not imposing,” I hear myself say. “There’s plenty of food, and honestly, it would be nice to have adult conversation during dinner.”
For a moment Jordan looks tempted. He glances at Henry, who’s still content in his arms, then back at me. Something in his expression shifts, becoming more guarded.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I just need some time to decompress. It’s been a long day.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me want to ask what happened. Where he’s been. Why he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Instead, I nod. “Of course. I understand.”
“Thanks again for today. For staying late, for bringing Henry here. It really helped.”
“Anytime.”
Jordan gathers Henry’s things quickly, like he’s eager to leave. I help him carry everything to the door, noting how he avoids making eye contact.
“See you tomorrow?” I ask.
“Definitely. Same time?”
“Same time.”
I watch from my front steps as Jordan carries Henry across the yard to their house. Even from a distance, I can see the careful way he handles the car seat, the gentle way he talks to Henry as they walk.
Back inside, Ash is setting the table for dinner, but he keeps glancing toward the window.
“Is Jordan okay?” he asks. “He seemed kind of sad.”
The observation surprises me. Ash is perceptive, but I didn’t realize he’d picked up on Jordan’s mood so clearly.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. He just seemed different when he came back. Like something was bothering him.”
I think about Jordan’s expression when he arrived, the way he seemed to be forcing himself to engage in conversation. “You might be right.”
“Do you think it has something to do with Henry’s mom?”
The question catches me off guard. “Why would you ask that?”
Ash shrugs, continuing to arrange napkins on the table. “Just seems weird that she hasn’t come to visit or anything. And Jordan never talks about her. Like, at all.”
He’s right. In the few days we’ve known Jordan, he’s never mentioned Henry’s mother beyond saying he’s watching Henry “for a while.” No phone calls from her that I’ve witnessed. No mention of when she might be back.
“Maybe she’s away somewhere,” I say carefully. “Travel for work or visiting family.”
“Maybe.” Ash doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “But wouldn’t she want to see Henry? He’s really little. My friend Jake’s mom went on a business trip for three days, and she video-called him every night.”
The simple logic of a nine-year-old highlights exactly what’s been bothering me. What mother stays away from her six-month-old baby for days without any contact? What situation would make someone hand over their infant to a relative who clearly has no experience with children?
“Maybe.” Ash doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too.”
As I finish making dinner, I find myself glancing out the kitchen window toward Jordan’s house. He’s probably feeding Henry, going through the evening routine we established yesterday.
Part of me wants to text him, just to check if he needs anything. But something about the way he left suggests he needs space more than he needs help.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong. The evasiveness about Henry’s mother, the way Jordan disappeared for hours without explanation, the exhaustion that seems to go bone deep.
I’ve only known Jordan for a few days, but already I can tell when something is off. Today, something was definitely off.
“Mom?” Ash appears beside me, tugging on my shirt. “The spaghetti is boiling over.”
“Oh!” I turn down the heat and stir the pasta, forcing myself to focus on dinner.
But as we eat, I can’t help wondering what Jordan isn’t telling me. And why the thought of him struggling with something alone makes my chest ache in a way that’s starting to distract me from everything else.
Which is why this whole thing is probably a problem I should be worried about.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’ll just be grateful that Henry seemed happy to see his uncle, that Ash had a good day with his friend, and that tomorrow I’ll get to see Jordan again.
Even if I still don’t understand what’s really going on in his life.