Chapter 9
Keanna
I finally get all cozy in this bed in Jett’s old room.
It took a lot of pillow fluffing and shifting around, but I found a good spot and I put on one of my comfort TV shows.
If I close my eyes and listen to the TV, I can almost pretend I’m back in my old bedroom and that this is just a regular day with nothing to stress about.
At least until Jett bursts into our temporary bedroom looking like he’s about to scream.
He’s also a little sweaty? This is weird. I sit up in bed and pause the TV.
“What’s going on?”
He draws in a deep breath and then exhales. “I don’t even feel like talking right now. I’ll just show you instead.”
”Does it have something to do with why you’re all sweaty?” I ask.
”It’s not sweat…it’s water from the hose outside.”
”Now I’m even more intrigued,” I say with a chuckle.
Jett leans out the door and says, “Arko!”
Our new furry family member races up the stairs and leaps into our bedroom, tail wagging. He brings the faint scent of shampoo and wet dog into the room, which is confirmed when he shoves his head in my hands and his fur is still damp.
”Did you get a bath, buddy?” I say, scratching his fur. “It’s a weird time to bathe the dog,” I tell Jett.
He sighs again. “Yep. I didn’t want to bathe the dog at night, in the dark, with random dog shampoo Park found in the gym’s lost and found box. But I had to.”
And then he tells me the whole sordid tale of Brooke letting Arko roll in the mud outside and track it over the house.
Luckily his mom hasn’t found out yet. She’s a little obsessed with keeping the house clean, especially the kitchen.
I love my husband but he’s not the best cleaner on earth, so I should probably go do a second cleaning pass down there to make sure he got all the mud scrubbed off.
“Maybe we should try to dial back letting Brooke take care of him,” I say.
Harper pops up in her bed. I thought she’d fallen asleep while I laid in my bed, watching TV, but she’s wide awake now.
“Yeah!” she says. “Arko is my dog, not Brooke’s!”
”Honey, she’s just trying to help.” Brooke is my husband’s little sister after all, I don’t want to paint her as a bad kid. It is a little weird that his sister is closer to Harper’s age than to our ages, but his parents were very young parents who decided to have a second child much later in life.
“I don’t care,” Harper says. Arko does a big stretch then walks over to her, ignoring his dog bed and climbing up into her mattress. This makes her giggle and snuggle against him. “You’re my dog, Arko.”
”Getting him was such a great idea,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to clean up mud and give him a bath.”
Jett shrugs, shaking his head when I pat the bed beside me. “I’m filthy. I need to shower. And then first thing tomorrow morning, I’m demanding that our house gets rebuilt faster than humanly possible.”
The next morning at work, I’m taking inventory of our office supplies so I can place a Costco order when Jett walks into the lobby. He walks right up to the front counter across from where I’m sitting. He drops his elbows on the counter and sinks his head into his hands.
“Six. Months.”
“Huh?” I touch his cheek and lift his head up to face me. “You look very stressed.”
”Six months,” he says again.
Fear courses through me. He must be talking about motocross—is he going to join Team Loco for six months? They said three days! Six months is a lot longer than three days!
”The insurance company says that’s just how long it takes these days.”
”Wait,” I hold out my hand. “What are we talking about?”
He flattens his hands on the counter, curling his fingers over the edge in a way that makes the muscles in his forearms pop out.
“I just got off the phone with the insurance. They said it’ll be at least six months to get a new home build approved and completed, and that’s if the weather cooperates, and if there’s plenty of building supplies after the lumber shortage from a few months ago, and if nothing else delays construction.
Six freaking months. But they said don’t be surprised if it takes nine months. ”
Okay, so he’s not talking about motocross. It’s not what I thought he meant, but equally bad. Or maybe even worse.
”Six to nine months of living here, sharing a room with a kid and dog?” I press my palm to my head. “This is going to suck.”
”It doesn’t have to,” he says.
For a second I think he’s going to give some inspirational speech about how our situation is only as stressful as we allow it to be, and how we should embrace this opportunity to live with his parents and have to buy all of our stuff over again.
That it’s some kind of great life lesson we’re all going through.
But Jett knows me better than that.
He reaches across the counter and grabs my hands in his, meeting my eye with his gorgeous gaze. Maybe it’s just the way the mid-morning sunlight hits his face at this angle, but damn he’s hot. He smirks, sending chills down my arms.
”What are you scheming?” I ask.
He squeezes my hands, then lets go. His smirk widens. He presses his palms together then spreads them apart. “Let’s get a rental house.”
”Yeah?” I say. It’s not like I hadn’t had the idea myself already.
”We’ll sign a six month lease, or month-to-month, whatever.
Hell, even if they require a year lease, we’ll just pay it or be grateful that we have extra time in case the house rebuild takes longer than nine months.
” He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it messy.
“The way the insurance person talked, it could easily take longer than nine months. So let’s just go rent a place with plenty of rooms and a fenced in yard for Arko. ”
I nod, getting more excited with each word he says. “Yes! Do you think your parents will be upset? Like, are we insulting their generosity by getting our own place?”
”Nah,” he says. “They want what’s best for us.”
My teeth bite into my bottom lip. “Babe, I’m excited. This is a great idea. I love your family but…”
”We need our own space,” he says, finishing my thoughts for me.
I nod. The clacking sound of Arko’s nails on the tile floor gets our attention. He’s been hanging out in the playroom all day with Harper and Morgan, one of our office staff. Harper walks with him, one hand protectively on his back.
She stretches tall and places a piece of paper on the counter in front of me.
It’s a crayon drawing of Daddy, Mommy, Harper, and Arko.
Several little yellow dots on the grass by Arko’s feet must be his favorite glow-in-the-dark balls.
There’s a sun in the sky and green grass all along the bottom, with a blue house in the background.
“This is beautiful!” I say, holding the artwork up for Jett to see so we can both admire it. “You are an amazing artist, Harper.”
She beams. “I put Arko’s balls on there since he loves them so much!”
”I see that. And you made Grandma’s house blue.”
”No, that’s our house.”
”Our house wasn’t blue,” I say. “And it didn’t have a porch like that.”
”I know,” she says. “Just pretend. I miss our house.”
”We’re going to get another house very soon,” Jett tells her.
Her face lights up. “Really? This house?” she says, pointing to her drawing.
”Maybe it will look like that,” Jett says. “We are going to build a new house where our old house was, but before that one is ready, we will find a temporary house to live in.”
”Temporary?” she says, butchering the pronunciation. “What is temporary house?”
While Jett explains rental homes to our four-year-old, Arko checks out his empty water bowl.
I get up and refill it for him and he drinks so sloppily that water goes everywhere.
That is why I now keep a towel nearby. We’re also blessed to work at a family business that doesn’t care if we bring our dog every day.
Harper leaves her drawing with me so I’ll hang it on the wall, then she and Arko go back to the playroom.
Jett has to get back to work, so I sit at the front counter checking out rental homes online.
The thing about our beautiful little small Texas town is that it’s small.
Not exactly a ton of rental homes around, but I find five rentals online that seem mildly promising.
It’s just a rental, so it doesn’t need to be a dream home, it just needs to be a nice, safe space for our family.
After work, I show Jett and he agrees with the houses I chose.
“Should we call a real estate agent and set up appointments to view them this weekend?” I ask while twisting spaghetti around my fork. My mother-in-law’s spaghetti and meatballs are delicious. This is my second plate.
”Nope,” Jett says.
”What do you mean, no?”
”I’m leaving Friday morning, remember?”
”Oh. Right.” The stupid three day races. The potential for fifty thousand dollars isn’t stupid, which I remind myself. I have to tell myself that every time I remember that he’s going away this weekend. “I keep forgetting.”
”There’s a lot going on around here,” he says, glancing at his phone as it lights up with a notification. “Sometimes I forget, too.”
”Psh, yeah right.” I roll my eyes. “You seem very excited to get back to racing.”
”I like it, for sure. I’m more excited about the money, though.”
I finish my plate and take it over to the sink.
I saw Bayleigh wrap up the leftover spaghetti and put it in the fridge after dinner.
My stomach is totally full but I’m in full out stress-eating mode and kind of want to microwave another plate.
I resist the urge though, and grab a bottle of water instead.
“Babe, is everything okay?” Jett wraps an arm around my waist.
”It’s just been a lot. And now you’re leaving so we can’t look at houses.”
”Let’s go look at them tomorrow. We’ll take the day off work.”
”Really?”
He nods, sliding his hand down to my butt. “Yes, ma’am. We can pick our favorite rental and sign the lease tomorrow. Then as soon as I get back, we can move in.”
”There is literally nothing to move in,” I say. “If anything, we can sign the lease and then I can start getting furniture delivered there.”
”Right,” Jett chuckles. “We’re gonna need everything.”
”I’ll do some shopping while you’re gone.”
“Hey.” He turns, wrapping his arms around my hips and pressing his forehead to mine while we stand in his parents’ kitchen. “Are you okay?”
”Mmhmm.”
It’s mostly the truth. I am okay. I’m alive, and healthy, and so is my family.
We don’t have a home right now but we have a place to stay and the means to get a rental soon.
Everything is great. Better than many other people who aren’t as fortunate.
I shouldn’t even allow myself to wallow in self-pity over Jett going back to racing, and the horrible fear in my chest that he’s going to love the fame and travel more than he loves being home with me.
Nope. I can’t let myself think about that.
It’ll only lead to another panic attack and three sleepless nights while Jett is gone this weekend.
I take a deep breath, wishing I could exhale my worries as easily as I can exhale my breath.
I force a smile. “Let’s go to bed.”