Jax
“Ugh, I ate way too much,” Nora groans, rubbing a hand over her swollen belly with a dramatic sigh. “We’re heading out. Can you tell Allie thanks for everything?”
I nod. “Sure thing.”
I scan the room for Gareth and finally spot him on the couch, looking like his eyes are about to pop right out of their sockets and roll along the floor.
The reason? Lydia has chocolate smeared over her entire face, in her hair, and hands coated and sticky as she holds them out to him.
Poor mate looks like he’s about three seconds away from blowing chunks everywhere.
I move quickly, scooping Lydia up with one arm as her hands splat right on my wool flannel. “At least you’re getting some practice in before the baby comes,” I tease. “You know, with Nora’s other two.”
Am I poking the bear? Absolutely. But it’s been nearly five months, and I haven’t heard him mention her kids once.
Two daughters, almost the same ages as Charlotte and Lydia.
And somehow not a single word has been uttered about either of them.
All I know is their names are Emma and Salem.
I’m starting to wonder if they even exist at this point.
Gareth lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, but Nora’s kids aren’t like Allie’s. Allie actually disciplines hers.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t call it discipline as much as teaching them what’s okay and what’s not. But every kid acts out, mate. You should have seen Lydia and Charlotte go at it over a bubble blower. Total war zone.”
He goes to stand, carefully maneuvering away from Lydia like her hands were coated in something far worse than chocolate.
My eyebrows pull together. “Speaking of Allie, have you seen her? It’s like James and I finished cleaning the kitchen and she vanished.”
He points to her bedroom door. “Last I knew, she was in there with Ana.”
“Thanks, man. I assume you don’t wanna take this one for me for a minute?”
He quickly jumps back, and I’m doing my best not to burst out laughing from the sheer look of terror written on his face.
“Oh, give me the little rugrat,” James says, already reaching for her. “Come here, Lyd. You wanna go wash your hands?”
I shift her from my arms into his, and he catches her easily.
Lydia giggles, then playfully slaps both hands against his cheeks, the noise squelching loudly.
The look on Gareth’s face? Yeah, he’s about to hurl.
In a few short seconds, I’m standing in front of Allie’s door, hesitating for a split second before giving it three soft taps. I ease it open, and the first thing I see is Allie, hunched over with her hair messily thrown on top of her head, while Ana gently rubs slow circles on her back.
I push inside, crossing the room until I’m beside the bed. “Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
Allie turns, and it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, the dried trails of tears still visible on her cheeks.
I quickly round the bed, stopping in front of her. The moment I open my mouth, the sharp, sour smell hits me like a slap and everything becomes painfully obvious.
She wasn’t crying. She was throwing up.
I quickly move the waste bucket—don’t need my clumsy ass knocking it over—and sit beside Allie. “What happened?” I ask, eyes scanning her still-red face.
Ana leans over to look at me. “Let me know if you need me?”
I nod, not taking my eyes off Allie.
Without another word, Ana slips out, the door closing gently behind her.
Once she’s gone, Allie shrugs and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, honestly. I think the turkey just didn’t sit right,” she says, still sounding weak.
“Alright,” I say, standing and pulling the blankets out. Then I stand before her, both hands out, waiting for her to take them.
“What are you doing?”
I nod toward the bed. “Making you lay down. Because I know you and you’re about to get up and find something to do.”
She scoffs. “I was not,” she denies, her mouth hanging open.
“Come on, love. You’re gonna yak again if you keep your mouth open like that.” I chuckle.
“Jaxon,” she tries to scold.
I shake my head firmly. “Nope. I’m not listening until you are in this bed with the blanket properly around you.” I shrug. “Sorry.”
She finally caves, sliding her hands into mine as I help her under the covers. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy, huffing every three seconds, just enough for me to start wondering where Charlotte picked it up from.
But that’s Allie. Stubborn as hell. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I press a quick kiss to her forehead and nudge her water closer to her side of the bed, then quietly turn away. I almost make it out of there without a fight.
Almost.
“But, Jax…” she says behind me, and I can already hear the rustle of her sitting up.
I laugh under my breath, turning back. “Allie, I swear to God.”
I drop onto the edge of the bed beside her. She tilts her head at me, fingers toying with the edge of the comforter.
“There’s still stuff that needs to be picked up.”
I shake my head, smiling. “No, there’s not, love. James and I took care of everything. You need to lie down. Please?”
“Okay… fine,” she finally sighs.
“Thank you,” I murmur, running my thumb along her cheek. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
I don’t move until she actually lays back, watching her like she might try and sneak out of bed the second I blink. Only when her head hits the pillow do I start to inch toward the door, practically walking backwards just to make sure she stays put. Then I turn, reach for the doorknob—
“Jax?”
I let out a long breath as one hand goes straight to the bridge of my nose. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she says, softly, maybe even a little hesitant.
I offer her a smile, because I get it. Of course she’s putting up a fight. She’s never had anyone to take care of her—not really, anyway. Trevor was basically her third kid, so yeah, of course she thinks she still has to handle everything, even when she’s sick.
But not anymore.
I glance over my shoulder. “I love you, Allie. Now seriously—rest.”
She grins, barely keeping her eyes open. “I love you, too,” she murmurs back.
I quickly shut the light, and leave before she can try and stop me again.
My hand lingers on the doorknob as I turn—and freeze mid-step.
Desmond sits alone on the couch, left knee bouncing a mile a minute, and not a single person is in the room with him.
That’s what creeps me out the most—Desmond. Sitting still. Being quiet.
He’s James’s doppelg?nger. Both of them have endless amounts of energy. No matter what. Where they get it from? No fucking idea. It’s like they feed off each other.
My eyebrows draw together as I glance around the room, half-expecting someone to pop out from behind the couch.
But there’s no one. Just silence.
Well, aside from the faint creak of Allie’s floorboards with every bounce of Desmond’s leg.
I cross the room and sink into the armchair beside him.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even glance over. Just keeps staring down at his interlocked fingers.
“Everything alright, mate?” I ask, leaning forward, arms resting on my knees.
He gives a slow nod. “Yeah. Is… is Allie okay?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s just not feeling great,” I say. “Says the turkey didn’t sit right.”
He glances up, then looks away just as fast. “You don’t think it might’ve been what I said earlier?”
A knot tightens in my chest. Now it makes sense. Him being alone in the living room, looking guilty as hell. He was worried about Allie.
“No, I promise. She’s really just sick.”
He gives me a tight-lipped smile and nods. “Okay, good.”
I lean back, eyes still on him. “You were really this worried? About her?”
He finally looks up and shrugs. “Well, yeah. I mean, I really like you guys. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone—especially you or Allie.”
That knot in my chest? Tightens beyond belief.
I lean over, tapping Desmond’s knee before leaning back again. “We like you too, Dezzy,” I say with a smirk, knowing damn well I’m pushing his buttons.
He shoots me a sideways glance. “Yeah, I like you. But not enough for you to call me that,” he says with a snicker.