17. Jordan
JORDAN
“See, the thing about Ironveil’s suit is it’s not just armor,” Ash explains around a bite of pepperoni pizza. “It’s about all the tech stuff working together. Like, his helmet has to see things and talk to his computer and not break all at the same time.”
“That’s a lot of processing power,” I agree, balancing my own slice while watching the action sequence unfold on screen. “The cooling system alone would be a major engineering challenge.”
“Exactly! Most people don’t think about that part.” Ash gestures excitedly at the TV with his pizza. “And look how his hand blasters work. The energy has to go through his palms without burning him.”
I find myself genuinely invested in this conversation about fictional technology, and more importantly, I find myself genuinely enjoying Ash’s company.
He’s smart, funny, and enthusiastic about everything.
Spending time with him doesn’t feel like babysitting.
It feels like hanging out with a friend who happens to be nine years old.
“You know what?” Ash says during a commercial break. “You’re not bad at soccer for someone who plays baseball. That goal you made earlier was pretty good.”
“Thanks. Though I think you let me have that one.”
“Maybe a little.” Ash grins. “But you’re getting better. We should play again sometime.”
Henry is already asleep in his crib in the guest room, has been for the past hour. The house is peacefully quiet except for the movie and our conversation.
I watch Ash talk about our earlier soccer game with enthusiasm, and I’m struck by how good he is with everything.
Patient, gentle, naturally understanding.
It’s clear that Alexa has done an incredible job raising him.
The kindness, the confidence, the way he treats everyone like they matter—those things don’t happen by accident.
“She’s the best mom ever,” Ash says suddenly, as if reading my thoughts about Alexa.
The simple statement hits me harder than it should. Ash isn’t just saying it because he’s supposed to; there’s genuine love and admiration in his voice. Alexa has raised a kid who thinks she hung the moon, and from what I’ve seen, she pretty much has.
I want to make that kind of impression on Henry. I want him to look at me someday the way Ash looks at Alexa, with complete trust and confidence that I’ll always be there for him. The thought surprises me with its intensity.
After the movie ends, Henry is still sleeping peacefully in the guest room, and Ash is fighting to keep his eyes open.
“I should probably stay awake until Mom gets back,” he says, but his words are interrupted by a yawn.
“I’ll stay awake. You can rest if you want.”
“Just for a few minutes,” Ash murmurs, curling up on the couch with the throw blanket. “Wake me up when she gets home.”
Within minutes, he’s out cold, breathing deeply with the complete relaxation that only children seem capable of. I settle into the easy chair, intending to read or watch something quietly while I wait for Alexa.
But the chair is more comfortable than I expected, and the house is peacefully quiet for the first time in weeks. Before I know it, my own eyes are getting heavy.
The sound of the front door opening jolts me awake. I blink in confusion, trying to orient myself. The TV is still on, playing some late-night infomercial. Ash is still asleep on the couch. And Alexa is standing in the doorway, looking…
Holy moly.
I’ve seen Alexa looking nice before, but this is different.
She’s wearing a blue dress that hugs her figure perfectly, ending just above her knees.
Her hair is styled in soft waves instead of her usual ponytail, and she’s wearing makeup that makes her eyes look even bigger than usual. She looks stunning.
My heart does this stupid flip thing that I haven’t felt since high school, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Hi,” she says softly, probably trying not to wake Ash. “How did everything go?”
“Great,” I manage, standing up too quickly and nearly knocking over the water glass on the side table. “Really great. Ash was… he’s amazing.”
Her face lights up with that proud smile that makes my chest feel tight. “Yeah, he is pretty amazing. Thank you for watching him.”
“Thank you for letting me. I had a really good time.”
She moves quietly to the couch, smoothing Ash’s hair back from his forehead with such tender care that it makes my throat constrict.
Everything about her—the way she touches her son, the way she looked earlier when she was worried about leaving him, the way she looks right now, beautiful and glowing from her night out… it all hits me at once.
I’m falling for her. Hard.
What scares me is how much I want to reach out and touch her face, how much I want to tell her how beautiful she looks, how much I want to kiss her until neither of us can think straight.
But I can’t do any of those things. She works for me. She depends on this job, and I depend on her help with Henry. Getting involved romantically would complicate everything, and if it didn’t work out…
I can’t risk losing her. I can’t risk Henry losing her. She’s become too important to both of us.
“I should get Ash home,” Alexa whispers, gently shaking his shoulder.
“Mom?” Ash blinks awake, disoriented. “You’re back.”
“I’m back. Did you have fun?”
“The best time. Jordan taught me about baseball stats, and we played soccer, and we ordered pizza, and we watched a movie.” He yawns big. “The first Ironveil movie.”
“Sounds like quite an evening.” Alexa looks at me with something that might be gratitude or might be something else entirely. “Thank you again, Jordan. This was exactly what I needed.”
“Anytime,” I tell her, and I mean it. “Really, anytime.”
As I watch them walk across the yard to their house, Ash chattering sleepily about our evening while Alexa listens with patient attention, I make myself a promise.
I’ll keep my distance. I’ll be professional. I’ll be grateful for what we have without wanting more.
Because getting involved romantically would complicate everything.
If it didn’t work out, I’d lose her help with Henry, lose the stability we’ve all found together.
But more than that, the thought of opening my heart to someone again, of caring that deeply and risking that kind of loss, terrifies me in a way I’m not ready to face.
I’ve spent years building walls around my emotions, keeping people at a safe distance where they can’t hurt me. Amy is the only person I’ve ever let all the way in, and look where that’s gotten me. Sitting beside her hospital bed, helpless and terrified every single day.
I can’t handle losing anyone else I care about. I can’t handle the vulnerability that comes with loving someone completely. And I definitely can’t handle the possibility of Alexa walking away when she realizes how damaged I really am.
Even though “more” feels like it might be worth everything I’d have to risk to get it.
Even though watching her disappear into her house feels like losing something I never actually had.