7. Jameson, age 21, present…
. . .
The automatic coffee machine beeps like it does every morning, ready to go once my alarm goes off.
This morning, though, I’m up way before my alarm, and I don’t even need the hit of caffeine.
Instead, I make my way out of my closet, buttoning my jeans and pulling my long-sleeve shirt over my head.
My hair is still damp from the shower, but thankfully we haven’t slid into Michigan’s freezing temps yet, so I’m not worried about it.
Once again, my eyes find the clock above the kitchen sink, and my jaw clenches.
It's only seven. I still have an hour to wait before I can drive across town and pick up my baby girl. She’s only been gone for sixty-four hours, but already I miss her little dimpled smile, her dark brown eyes just like mine, and the way her chubby, grabby fingers reach for me, before sliding over the scruff on my jaw line when I hold her.
Two years ago, if anyone had told me I’d be a girl-dad someday, with my counters covered in glitter and my fridge a mirage of rainbow-colored doodles and hand print art in the shape of farm animals, I’d have laughed.
But that's how fate played out and I’m a lucky bastard for every second of the hand it's dealt me.
Deciding to put the extra time to good use, I slip on my shoes before grabbing my wallet and keys from the stand next to the door.
Right as I’m locking up, the main garage door groans as it opens and slowly my brother’s frame comes into view.
My feet hit the bottom step right as he steps into the open space.
His dark brow rises, and he glances at the watch on his wrist.
“Little early, isn’t it?”
I shake my head in denial. “I have a stop to make on the way. It’s been long enough.”
I can tell that Johnny understands my double meaning with the way his smile ticks up in a knowing grin.
He knows me well and how much I hate being apart from my daughter.
After all, he's been in on my plans for the past year and a half, once we got everything off the ground and working. I’m thankful he even took the chance to help me get our second location open here in Michigan, at least until I can get a few more employees hired.
“Have you heard about when your next race is?” he asks, while handing me my backpack at the same time.
“Thursday night,” I tell him, while quickly looking in the bag to make sure I have enough wipes, extra Pull-Ups and snacks along with my books. “Delano said the payout would be around 50-60k.”
Johnny blows out a breath, his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s good news at least. You think you’ll be ready?”
My brow lifts as I look up, meeting his slightly concerned gaze. “Have I ever not been?”
My brother shrugs, and I can see the slight hesitation cross his features. “You also haven’t been this close to your goal before. If you aren’t in the right head space right now, you should cancel the race.”
I know he means well. Hell, he might even have a point, but I didn’t come this far to stop now.
This race not only means a head start on next month’s bills for the garage, but it’s also my first race with a sponsor.
Not the kind that gives me ad deals or sells my face on a t-shirt, obviously, but the kind that puts up money in order to double the winnings I receive.
After racing a smaller circuit around Ohio, I earned a reputation with all my wins.
During that year, I made petty cash, a few hundred here and there, which was helpful at the time.
I appreciate the small start the Landing gave me.
Then I met Romeo, and after one race, he wanted to sponsor me.
Now I race the underground all over Chicago, Detroit, and in the winter months I’m often in Vegas or the outskirts of Southern California.
Each of these races bring in thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands in cash.
Romeo takes a cut and I pocket the rest. I need the money.
Johnny is right about that. I’m close to my ultimate goal.
Finally being here in Michigan proves that.
I’m about to answer him when a text hits my phone. “It’s Dad.”
Johnny smirks and goes to grab a pair of coveralls from his locker. “Better answer the old man. He’s been wanting updates.”
My fingers tap open the message and several flood in.
DAD: John said the interviews are scheduled.
DAD: Will your class schedule conf
DAD: This damn phone. The buttons are too small for my fingers. Will your class schedule conflict with the shop hours? How about your time with Dylan?
“Just remember, it sounds like he’s hounding you, but he’s really just worried,” Johnny states when my hand tightens around my phone.
I exhale loudly, my head tipping back. Logically, I know my brother is right.
Our dad means well. Ever since I told him about my impending fatherhood, he’s been nothing but supportive of every plan I’ve made, even when he thinks I’m crazy.
He’s offered nothing but solutions to keep me going while balancing working at the garage, racing, taking classes online here and there for my degree, and raising my daughter.
He kept things going for me when that included out-of-state travel, so I never missed my days with my baby girl.
Now that I’ve officially relocated, he’s become extra hover-y. You’d think now that the garage is up and running and I’m almost done with my classes that he’d calm down. This move only seems to have increased his worries.
ME: Johnny just got here to take over the call back for the day.
Hoping to hire at least two extra right now.
The community college worked with me to schedule around my time with Dylan and work.
I only have about twelve credits left, so they’re willing to work with me. On my way to pick her up right now.
By the time I click out of my messages, I’ve lost ten minutes. “Shit. I have to go,” I tell my brother, slapping him on the back as I leave the garage.
“Give my niece a kiss from her favorite uncle!” he calls, and I wave him off as I slide into my truck.
The drive into town is surprisingly fast for a Monday morning and I manage to get in and out of the local coffee shop quickly.
Armed with everyone’s favorites, I drive over to the apartment building.
My stomach tightens as I let myself into the building and use the elevator to the front door.
My skin feels tight with need and the still present underlying thrum of irritation from the weekend.
This feels like the longest 64 hours of my life.
Using my free hand to knock on the door, I wait patiently for it to open. I’m early. About fifteen minutes early now, but I don’t care. There is physically no way I could wait. The door opens and a pair of hazel eyes hit mine.
“I hope you brought my favorite.” The sassy little teen reaches for the drink holder and I push down the twitch of my lips, fighting a grin.
“Depends,” I tell her, my own brow rising slightly.
She gives her head a small shake and winks at me. Our telltale sign that everything with her sister is good, meaning the date she had this weekend failed. My chest instantly loosens, and I feel myself become lighter.
“This is for you then,” I tell my favorite conspirator and hand her the creamy, pink concoction she likes to drink, with extra whipped cream on top.
“Dyl! You need your socks. I still have to do your pony!” Sam’s slightly exasperated voice fills the space, but her voice is soon drowned out by the happy squeal of the two-year-old toddler running right for me.
At the last second, Allie grabs the drink carrier, and my hands are now free to grab the little ball of energy currently yelling, “DADDY!!” at me.
I scoop her up easily, enjoying the feel of her weight in my arms and the shining light in her eyes that are the exact shade of mine. Her little hands grab my face, and she smacks a kiss loudly on my chin. “Missed you!” her little voice says, and my heart squeezes in my chest.
“I missed you, little Pretty Girl.”
“Sorry, she isn’t completely ready yet.” Sam steps into the hallway, and this time, my heart starts racing in my chest. 64 hours. I waited 64 hours for this sight in front of me again. My little girl and the love of my life.
“I’m a little early,” I manage to rasp out, my eyes still devouring the woman in front of me.
Everything from her painted red toes, the flare of her jeans and the tight white t-shirt she wears tucked into them.
Her long blonde hair is only half curled and a clip is holding different sections in place.
Even slightly disheveled, she’s still easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“Dyl, let me finish your pony then you can leave with Daddy, okay?” She smiles at our little girl, and my fucking heart melts over them both.
“Yeah, little pretty, we have a lot to get done today before we can have Gramps’ mac and cheese for dinner,” I tell her, and she rewards me with another smile just like Sam’s.
“O’tay,” Dylan agrees with what her mommy wants and I set her back down on her feet. She follows Sam back to where the bathroom is while I take the opportunity to move farther into the apartment.
“She was home early,” Allie says low enough for only me to hear, and I smirk at her, taking out an extra twenty-dollar bill from my wallet.
“The guy from the gym, right?” I ask, feeling my molars grind in the back of my jaw.
Allie snorts and rolls her eyes. “He’s saved on her phone as ‘gym bro.’ He isn’t anywhere near your level.”
I can’t help the smug expression that probably takes over my face and I reach out my hand, ruffling her hair. “You’re the best sis-in-law.”
This time she shakes her head at me and gives me the up and down attitude that most teens perfect. “You aren’t my brother-in-law yet, Kane. You have work to do.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble under my breath, and this time she gives me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder.
Allie walks away and I hear her tell Sam she’s leaving.
The bus is out front and she needs to catch it in order to get home.
I hear the sisters hug and fawn all over each other and Dylan calls goodbye to her aunty.
Allie leaves the apartment a minute after that and then I’m alone with my girls.
My girls. I have to take a few deep breaths in and out to help push down the storm that has been brewing inside of me since last Friday.
I hate it every time Sam and I meet to exchange Dylan for our days.
I don’t like missing time from Dylan’s life and I really don’t like when Sam walks away from me each time.
I know deep down it's my fault, which is why I keep my mouth shut. Except for last week. After two years, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Sam’s eyes grew wide when I told her I owned the new garage in her college town.
Then the color drained from her face when I told her I also lived in the apartment above the garage just so I could be closer to her and Dylan.
I got to watch as every emotion, surprise, confusion, anger, and finally understanding moved over her face and eventually all the color came rushing back, creating a beautiful pink blush on her cheeks.
Her eyes sparked when I said the word bedroom and I knew right then she wasn’t mad.
No, Sam was curious and that made her uneasy.
She couldn’t get out of there fast enough after that.
“I done!” Dylan comes running back into the room; this time, her feet are covered in a pair of fuzzy pink socks and her hair is pulled into two doughnuts on the sides of her head.
She jumps willingly into my arms and I hold her with her back to my chest while I help her slip on her pink shoes. Everything about this little girl is pink, glitter and hockey. She’s absolutely perfect.
“Do you have everything at your new place for her?” Sam asks, her voice hesitant, but her lips are trying to smile, to lighten the tension still lingering between us.
“Yup. Her room was the first I set up,” I tell her, hoping to put her at ease. “Do you have practice today?”
She nods and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Every day this week. I may be a little late actually picking her up Wednesday.”
I hate how she frowns, knowing just how much it hurts not spending every waking moment with our baby. “No worries. I’ll get her ready for bed so when you pick her up you can have all the cuddle time you want at home.”
There's a spark again in her eyes and a flash that is dangerously close to something I dare not name. My body wants to react to it, to see if I can pull more of those emotions forward and finally have her in my arms again. In the end, I know she isn’t ready.
She doesn’t understand half of what’s happened or the plans that I’ve set in motion.
“Well, I guess we’ll head out so you can get to class,” I finally manage to say, the words feeling tight in my throat.
“Sounds good. See you Wednesday,” Sam says, her smile small until she leans forward and places one more kiss on Dylan’s little cheek. She squeals for her mommy, holding out her hands and demanding another kiss. We both laugh, and Sam kisses her again on her little button nose.
“Okay, little Pretty Girl. Mommy has class. Let’s head to the park.” I look down at her and see her bobbing her head excitedly. Sam opens the door for us. Right as I cross the threshold into the hallway, I turn to her.
“Oh, don’t forget to drink the latte I got you. Vanilla Cinnamon.”
Sam’s lips pop open as she glances at the cup on the counter then back to me.
I can see her confusion and the slight flare of panic in her eyes.
I’ve never forgotten anything about her.
Even with all the shit between us, there hasn’t been a day where she hasn’t been on my mind.
I turn my back, leaving her, and hating that I have to walk away.
I can feel her watching us, her eyes on my back, and it sends shivers over my skin.
For once, I stop, glancing over my shoulder.
Her body jerks in surprise, and a slight blush covers her cheeks.
My mouth forms a smile, loving that I caught her off guard, that I did something she didn’t expect.
“Bye, Sammy.”