Chapter Two #2
He’s looking at the swing. It’s the beige one with the faded jungle print, and there’s a strip of masking tape on the base where somebody wrote NAP ROOM 2 in marker years ago.
The bassinet’s the same—the director pulled both out of the storage closet when I first brought Levi in, said they were replacing them anyway, and didn’t wait for me to say no.
I never took the tape off. I don’t know why.
“They were getting rid of them,” I say.
He doesn’t ask anything.
Levi cries again, pulling my attention back instantly.
“Here,” I say, a little hesitant as I shift him carefully. “Just…support his head.”
“I’ve got him,” Jax replies, his voice calm as he steps closer.
I pass Levi over slowly. I watch every movement, my body tense like I’m ready to snatch him back at any second. But Jax doesn’t fumble. Doesn’t hesitate.
He takes Levi like he’s done it a hundred times, one hand supporting his head, the other resting gently along his back, pulling him close to his chest.
“Hey, little man,” he murmurs softly, his voice dropping in a way I haven’t heard before. “What’s all this, huh?”
Levi’s cries don’t stop immediately, but they soften. Just slightly. I blink.
Jax shifts him a little, adjusting his hold, then starts a slow, steady sway, his hand moving in gentle circles along Levi’s back. “Yeah…I know,” he whispers. “Rough night, huh? I get it.”
I watch, completely still. Because it’s working. Not instantly. Not like magic. But it’s working. Levi’s cries turn into soft whimpers. Then hiccups. Then nothing. Silence.
My mouth parts slightly. “How did you…”
“Shh,” Jax hums, glancing at me briefly before looking back down at Levi. “We’re not celebrating yet.”
I clamp my mouth shut, watching as he continues the slow rhythm. His body is relaxed, patient, like he has nowhere else to be. A minute passes. Two. Levi doesn’t cry again.
And I just stand there and look at him. This man I met four days ago, holding my brother against his chest like he’s been assigned to it.
One big hand spread across Levi’s whole back—that’s how small Levi is, or how big Jax is, I don’t know which.
His voice has gone somewhere low that I haven’t heard from anyone before.
He’s not asking me if he’s doing it right.
He isn’t looking at me at all. He just took the weight and is holding it, and he doesn’t seem to find that remarkable in any way.
Nobody has ever taken anything from me and not wanted something in return.
Something turns over low in my stomach, and it is not gratitude. It’s warmer than that, and lower. I don’t have a name for it, and I’m too tired to go looking for one. I just know I can’t stop watching his hands. He’d make a good father.
My shoulders sag slightly, the tension draining out of me so fast it almost makes me dizzy. “I’ve been trying for almost an hour,” I whisper, more to myself than him.
“Yeah,” Jax replies quietly. “Sometimes it’s just about switching it up.”
He moves carefully toward the bassinet. “Let’s see if he stays down.”
I hold my breath as he lowers Levi slowly, gently, like one wrong move will ruin everything. For a second, it works. Then Levi’s face scrunches. And he cries. Loudly.
I let out a frustrated sound, dragging a hand down my face. “Of course.”
Jax exhales quietly, already lifting Levi back up before the cry fully builds. “Yeah…figured.”
Levi settles again almost instantly against Jax’s chest, like that’s the only place he wants to be.
Jax glances at me, then at the small loveseat. “Looks like I’m stuck.”
I blink. “What?”
“He won’t stay asleep unless I’m holding him,” he says simply, walking over and sitting down like he’s already made the decision. “So, I’ll stay.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he cuts in, his tone calm but firm. “I want to.”
I hesitate, watching Jax as he leans back slightly, adjusting Levi so he’s comfortable against him, his hand still moving in slow, soothing circles.
“You should get some sleep,” he adds, nodding toward the narrow bed against the far wall. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not—”
“Zora.”
My name in his voice does something strange to my chest.
I swallow. “I can’t just leave him with you.”
“You’re not leaving,” he says. “You’re right there.” He tilts his head toward the bed again. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I hesitate. Every instinct tells me this is a bad idea. That I don’t know him. That I shouldn’t trust him. But Levi is quiet. Finally quiet. And I’m so, so tired.
“I’ll just…lie down for a minute,” I say slowly, like I’m trying to convince myself.
Jax nods once. “That works.”
“I’m not actually going to sleep,” I add quickly.
“Of course not,” he replies, the hint of a smile in his voice.
I narrow my eyes slightly at him, but I’m already moving toward the bed, my body heavy, my limbs slow. I lie down, keeping my eyes on Levi, on the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest. On Jax sitting there like this isn’t the strangest situation in the world.
“I’m just resting,” I murmur.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ll know if anything changes.”
“I’m sure you will.”
I exhale slowly, my eyes burning as I try to keep them open. Just for a minute. Just until I’m sure he’s really asleep. Just…darkness.
???
I wake up to a smell. Warm. Rich. Familiar.
Food.
My eyes blink open slowly, my brain taking a second to catch up as I push myself up on my elbows.
For a moment, I forget where I am. Then I hear it.
A soft, happy coo. My head snaps toward the sound.
Levi is in his swing, his tiny legs kicking slightly as he makes quiet, content sounds, completely relaxed.
My heart stutters.
“What…”
“And you’re awake.”
I look up. Jax is in my kitchen. Cooking. Like he belongs there. Like this is normal.
He glances over his shoulder at me, a small, easy smile pulling at his lips. “Hey.”
I stare at him, still trying to catch up. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner,” he says simply, turning back to the stove. “Figured you’d be hungry.”
Dinner? How long did I sleep? My brows knit together. “You…just decided that?”
He shrugs slightly. “Seemed like a safe bet.”
Levi lets out another happy sound, and Jax glances over at him, his voice softening instantly. “Yeah, I know. You’re doing much better now.”
I notice the way he talks to him. The way Levi responds. And something in my chest shifts. It’s quiet. Unexpected.
I push myself up fully, still staring at him. “You stayed.”
He glances back at me again. “Told you I would.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything. I just sit there and let myself linger in the moment for a second longer—the smell of food I didn’t cook, the sound of my brother happy, the sight of someone in my kitchen who isn’t leaving yet.
Yet. There it is. Even now, some part of me is already counting down.
And for the first time since all of this started, I don’t feel like I’m doing it alone.