25. ZARA
ZARA
Evaluation Day
“There’s only one thing I can do,” Jaxon says out of the blue that evening, when we’re on the couch after Lily is fast asleep.
He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling hard, like even breathing takes effort right now. Then he turns to me.
There’s something different in his eyes. Not doubt, but clarity.
“I’m not going,” he says.
The words land between us, quiet but absolute.
For a second, I don’t respond. Because I know exactly what he means. And I know exactly what it costs.
“The game,” I say anyway, just to make sure we’re talking about the same impossible thing.
He nods once. “Chicago.”
My stomach drops.
“That’s…” I swallow. “Jax, that’s not just any game.”
“I know.”
“They need you.”
His jaw tightens, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Lily needs me more.”
“Jax, what does this mean for your career? What will management say?”
His expression softens, just a fraction. “They won’t be happy, that’s for sure.”
A beat passes. Heavy, loaded. Everything sits between us.
Then he lifts his phone.
“Let’s find out,” he says quietly.
He taps the screen, pulls up a contact, and hits call.
It rings once. Twice.
Then—
“Thomas Vance,” a voice barks on the other end. The General Manager of the Metro Raptors.
Jaxon’s posture shifts, almost imperceptibly.
“Hey, Thomas. I’m calling to let you know I won’t be making the Chicago game. I wanted to tell you myself. I’ll inform Nate, Simone, and the team, but you should hear it first.”
Silence.
Then, “What?” Thomas sounds like he misheard. “What do you mean you’re not making the—Jaxon, we’ve got—”
“I know exactly what we’ve got,” Jaxon cuts in, still calm. “I also know I have a court-ordered home evaluation that day. I’m staying. This matters.”
A sharp exhale cuts through the line.
“Important?” Thomas repeats, his voice going dangerously quiet. “You think this game isn’t important?”
Jaxon doesn’t flinch. “That’s not what I said.”
“No, what you said is you’re choosing not to show up,” Thomas snaps. “For a game that could determine our playoff position. For a team that relies on you to lead them.”
My stomach knots as I watch Jaxon, knowing how hard this must be for him. He loves his job!
“I’m choosing to be there for my daughter,” he says evenly. “There’s a difference.”
A humorless laugh comes through the phone. “There’s always a difference when you’re the one making the call, isn’t there?”
Jaxon’s grip tightens slightly around the phone, but his voice stays level. “This isn’t up for debate, Thomas. I’m informing you, not asking for permission.”
On the other end, something shifts. The air changes, even through the phone.
Thomas lets out a slow breath, like he’s trying to rein himself in and failing. “Do you have any idea what this looks like? To ownership? To the press? To the locker room?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still doing it anyway?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretches, long and heavy.
I can practically feel the weight of everything Thomas isn’t saying pressing down through the line.
When he speaks again, his voice is colder.
“Then let me be very clear with you, Jaxon. Actions have consequences. You don’t just walk away from your responsibilities without it coming back to you.”
My heart stutters.
“Understood.” Jaxon sounds unshakeable.
“And when this season’s over,” Thomas continues, “we’ll be having a very serious conversation about your future with this organization.”
“I figured as much,” he says.
Thomas exhales sharply. “You better hope this is worth it.”
Jaxon’s gaze lifts, meeting mine. Steady. Certain.
“It is.”
Something inside me cracks wide open.
The line goes dead.
I want to hug Jaxon so bad right now. My fingers itch to reach out, to take some of the weight off his shoulders, even if it’s just for a second.
But I don’t know if he would want me to, so I stay still.
He’s still just sitting there, phone in his hand, jaw tight.
That’s just the way he is, I tell myself. He doesn’t let anyone in. So I try not to be disappointed.
But then Jaxon moves towards me.
His hand finds mine first, warm and solid, like he needs to anchor himself. My breath catches, and before I can even process it, he pulls me closer.
Right into him.
I don’t hesitate.
My arms come up around his waist instantly, holding him tight, my cheek pressed to his chest. His heart is beating fast. Or maybe that’s mine.
For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just holds on.
His hand slides up my back, fingers curling into the fabric of my sweater, and something in my chest squeezes so hard it almost hurts.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur against him. “This is really messed up.”
His hand comes up, brushing my hair back from my face, stopping me mid-sentence.
“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I know I made the right choice.”
***
Today is the evaluation.
I turn off the alarm on my phone and push myself upright, dragging a hand through my hair, already running through a mental checklist.
Apartment. Lily. Breakfast. Routine.
The only difference is that Lily has no school today but will stay home for the evaluation this morning.
I force myself out of bed and move quickly, pulling on clothes that strike that impossible balance between comfortable and presentable. Not trying too hard. Not too relaxed. Somewhere in the middle.
The apartment is already spotless, thanks to Mrs. Henriksen’s magic touch.
Still, I move through it anyway, straightening things that don’t need straightening. I adjust the throw pillows on the couch. Wipe down the already-clean kitchen counter.
Then I hear footsteps on the stairs.
“Morning,” I hear his gravelly voice.
My breath catches just at the sound of it.
I turn. Jaxon stands at the bottom of the stairs, hair still slightly damp, shirt half-buttoned like he didn’t quite finish getting ready. His gaze is already on me.
“Morning,” I echo, suddenly very aware of the space between us.
He crosses the room in a few quiet steps, stopping right in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes.
“What?” I ask, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
“Nothing,” he says, his lip quirking. “Can’t I look at my wife?”
Then he kisses me in greeting, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Right on the mouth. It’s closed, brief, barely a second, but it leaves me flushed and completely off balance.
I try to cover it. “Ahem, so, yeah—”
Oh God.
Words. Use words.
“So, um… breakfast,” I continue, turning a little too fast toward the counter. “I was just—making breakfast. Obviously. Because that’s… what people do in the morning. They eat. Normal people. We’re normal.”
I wince internally.
Stop talking.
But I don’t.
“And pancakes are, you know, statistically a very safe choice,” I add, grabbing a bowl and stirring something that does not need stirring.
“For evaluations. I mean—not that there’s, like, official data on that, but if there were, I feel like pancakes would rank high.
Comfort food. Approachable. Non-threatening. ”
Behind me, there’s a pause.
A very pointed pause.
I can feel his eyes on me.
“Zara,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m just saying,” I rush on, because apparently I’ve completely lost control of my brain, “we could have done something more complicated, like eggs Benedict, but that feels a little try-hard, and we’re not trying too hard, we’re just—naturally competent, casually put together, emotionally stable adults who happen to—”
I stop.
Finally.
Very slowly, I turn around.
He’s watching me like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week.
“You’re done?” he asks.
I press my lips together. “Yes.”
“Good.”
And then it hits me. Jaxon doesn’t seem nervous at all. After all the worry of the past few weeks, he seems almost cheerful today, and I can’t figure out why.
I frown slightly, turning to face him fully. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
His brow lifts. “I’m in a good mood?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “It’s suspicious.”
That earns me a real smile.
“Good to know,” he mutters.
“I’m serious,” I insist, crossing my arms.
“You want to know why?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, still wondering what is going on.
“The last few weeks have been incredibly difficult. There’s been a lot of stress, a lot of hard decisions. But I know they were the right ones. Now all that’s left is to live our lives. Carry on as normal. I feel confident about today,” he says. “There’s honestly nothing to worry about.”
I stare at him. “How can you not be worried about today?”
“Because there’s nothing to fake,” he replies simply. He gestures between us, then around the apartment. “This. It’s real. We’re not putting on a show for anyone. This is how we live. This is how we are with her. With each other.”
His gaze holds mine.
“They can come in here and observe all they want,” he continues. “They’ll see exactly what’s already there.”
My throat tightens.
“And what’s that?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
His lips curve just slightly. “A family.”
He’s about to say something more when small footsteps pad into the kitchen.
“Mornin’,” Lily mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep.
I turn immediately, my chest loosening at the sight of her. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
She goes to her dad first, giving him a big hug, then comes over to me and wraps her arms around my waist. I laugh softly, bending to hug her back and press a quick kiss to the top of her head.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask.
She nods against me. “Can I have pancakes?”
I smile. “Already working on it.”
I move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients, pouring batter, flipping pancakes while Lily chatters about something that happened at school yesterday.
Jaxon joins us, leaning against the counter, asking her questions, listening.
Lily laughs at something he says, then reaches for my hand without even looking, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
My heart squeezes.
A sharp knock at the door cuts through the moment.
Everything inside me tightens instantly.
Right on time.
Jaxon straightens. Lily looks between us, sensing the shift even if she doesn’t fully understand it.
I wipe my hands on a towel, forcing my shoulders to relax as I move toward the door.
Don’t mess this up.
I open it to find a woman in her forties standing on the other side, dressed in a simple blazer, a folder tucked neatly under her arm.
“Ms. Wins—” she starts, then corrects smoothly, “Mrs. Halberg?”
“That’s me,” I say, hoping my smile reads as warm and not strained. “Please, come in.”
She steps inside with a polite nod, her gaze already moving, taking in everything. The space. The light. The details most people wouldn’t notice.
“This is Jaxon,” I say, gesturing toward him. “And this is Lily.”
“Hi,” Lily says, a little shy now, pressing closer to Jaxon’s side.
The evaluator crouches slightly, her expression softening just enough. “Hi, Lily. Thank you for letting me visit your home today.”
Lily nods solemnly, like this is a very important responsibility.
“I’m just here to see how your mornings usually go,” the evaluator continues gently. “You don’t have to do anything special.”
Lily looks at Jaxon. “We’re already having pancakes.”
He nods. “Best morning ever.”
The evaluator smiles faintly and straightens. “That sounds perfect.”
We move back into the kitchen, and I feel her presence immediately—quiet, observant, constant.
I plate Lily’s pancakes, cut them into smaller pieces without thinking, pour her juice.
“Do you always prepare breakfast?” the evaluator asks, her tone neutral.
“Most mornings, yes,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “But sometimes her dad or our housekeeper, Mrs. Henriksen, step in as well.”
The evaluator makes a small note.
She glances up. “How do you typically divide responsibilities in the household?”
“We both handle the daily routines,” I say. “Breakfast, school prep, bedtime. It depends on our schedules, but we keep it consistent for Lily. I tend to take more mornings, and Jaxon often handles evenings and bedtime.”
The evaluator nods, writing again.
“How do you handle conflict between the adults?” she asks next.
My stomach flips slightly.
Jaxon doesn’t hesitate. “We talk.”
“Even when we don’t agree,” I add.
“Especially then,” he says.
The evaluator nods slowly.
“Do you feel your relationship developed quickly?” she asks, her tone still neutral, but more pointed now.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “It did.”
“And how do you account for that?”
I glance at Jaxon briefly, then back at her.
“Because we were already functioning as a unit before we labeled it,” I say. “Living together. Raising Lily. Building routines. The emotional part caught up quickly, but the structure was already there.”
The evaluator studies me carefully.
A pause.
Then she writes again.
Lily, completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation, slides off her chair and wanders into the living room.
“Can I show you my drawing?” she asks suddenly.
The evaluator looks up. “I’d love that.”
Lily grabs a crumpled sheet of paper and hands it over.
“It’s a dragon,” she says. “With glitter scales.”
The evaluator smiles. “I can see that. Very impressive.”
Lily climbs into my side, leaning against me for a quick cuddle, completely unbothered by the stranger in the room.
The evaluator glances at me, then at Lily. “And how do you feel living here with your dad and Zara, Lily?”
Lily shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “It’s good.”
“What makes it good?”
She thinks for a second. “We do stuff together. And it’s always fun.”
“Do you feel safe here?” the evaluator asks gently.
Lily nods immediately. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Lily looks at Jaxon first. “Because he’s my dad.”
Then at me. “And because Zara’s here.”
My throat tightens.
The evaluator doesn’t react outwardly, but I catch the way she writes that down, carefully.
“Thank you,” she says to Lily.
Lily beams, then runs back to her seat like her job here is done.
The evaluator asks to see Lily’s room, and Lily shows it off like the queen herself has come to visit.
“This is my bed,” she says. “And this is where my books are. And this is my dragon.”
Jaxon leans against the doorframe, watching her, that same quiet focus in his eyes.
The evaluator scans the room, taking notes.
Once Lily has shown her everything, the woman closes her folder after one final glance around.
“Thank you,” she says. “This has been very helpful.”
Jaxon and I walk her to the door, the tension in my chest slowly unwinding.
“You have a very… cohesive dynamic,” she says carefully.
I hold my breath.
“And Lily appears well-adjusted and secure,” she adds.
Relief floods through me so fast I almost sway.
“Thank you,” Jaxon says, steady.
She nods once. “We’ll be in touch.”
And then she’s gone. The door closes.
I think—no, I know—this went well.