Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Chloe
Tonight’s dinner was way too much work for just the two of us, but my baby was sad. It was no big thing, figuring out what had taken the bounce out of Jake’s step. There are only so many curvy, fully restored green ’52 Chevy pickup trucks around. The muscle-clad arm, dark and messy hair and beard left no doubt about who was behind the wheel.
I held in my tears as I watched Jake’s excitement at seeing Miles morph and change, settling into complete letdown. So, I did what any mama would do and scraped my sorry self up off the couch and made a roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. Fresh hot rolls and, of course, a chocolate cake.
My boy ate with gusto.
And helped clear the dishes.
And helped put away leftovers.
And then he asked if he could go up and shower before we had dessert.
He’s so grown up, and yet, when I went out to tell him what a great job he did on the lawn, he wrapped his arms around me, squeezed me tight, and was my sweet baby all over again.
While Jake’s showering, I switch his mowing clothes from the washer to the dryer. The soggy wad of cash that’s now spread out on the dryer is a mystery though. Twenties, tens, a handful of ones. Two hundred forty-eight dollars that I know for a fact Jake didn’t have in his pocket when he went outside this morning.
“Can we have dessert in the living room, Mom?” Jake’s newly acquired man smell hits my nose seconds after his feet hit the wood floor.
“We can. How big of a piece do you want?” I ask, pulling plates from the cabinet.
Jake puts his pointer fingers together, showing me how big of a wedge he wants. It’s not nearly as much as I thought he’d ask for.
I cut us each a slice and drop a fork on each plate, and before I have a chance, Jake picks up both plates and carries them to the living room.
“Jake,” I start but pause. I don’t want to screw this up.
“Mom,” he says, shoving way too much cake into his mouth at one time.
“I washed your mowing clothes.”
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles, a crumb clinging to his bottom lip. He loads his fork with another oversized bite.
“I found some money in the washer. Kind of a lot of money, Jake.”
The cake forgotten, Jake’s shoulders slump forward.
“I’m not going to be mad, I promise. But I need to know where you got that kind of money, babe.” I rub my hand up the middle of his back and then hook a finger around his chin, urging him to look at me.
He sighs big and mutters, “From Miles. He promised to pay me for mowing. I thought it meant every week, like we’d keep seeing him. But…” His shoulders lift in a shrug.
“Wow. Um… Huh.”
Jake flops back into the cushion. “I don’t want it.”
“Why? How much did he say he was going to pay you to mow the lawn?”
“Ten bucks a week.” He twists his hands in the hem of his t-shirt, uncomfortable. Nervous. Full of anxiety. “It wasn’t about the money, Mom. I… If I could trade it…”
It tears me apart, listening to the grown-up words spoken in his little-boy voice.
“What would you trade it for, Jake?” I run my fingers through the damp curls at the back of his head.
Sounding small, Jake whispers, “A dad.”
“Oh, Jake.” I pull him into my arms as his tears start to fall.
“What happened, Mom? Why did Miles go away?” He sniffs, trying so hard to be so, so big. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? I was… I didn’t know all the rules before him. Like, the first time we met him and you fainted, I didn’t know about the rules. I was rude and snotty and kind of crappy to him.”
I bite back a smile at the way Jake hesitates and then emphasizes the word crappy . I can’t imagine it’s the only cuss word he uses, but the fact that he’s testing it out with me makes my heart melt a little. And it’s just another sign of him growing up. But the heart of what he’s saying concerns me.
“And now, he’s gone away and left me, too.”
“What do you mean, too ?”
“Everybody leaves me, Mom. Everybody. Daddy went away all the time, and then he died. Uncle Jack got married to Aunt Kate, and then they had babies and moved far away. All of them left. And then Miles… I thought he liked us. I thought he was different. He…” Jake dashes a hand under his nose, sniffing hard. “He made me feel good, important. Like he cared. I thought maybe this time would be different. Like, maybe he would stay. Like, maybe we could be… like, I finally was good enough.”
I shift Jake, so I can hold his face in my hands. “Good enough? For what, baby? What do you think you’re not good enough for?”
His big brown eyes, which look so much like his daddy’s, are glassy with tears. His bottom lip quivers as he tries so hard to hold in his emotions. His voice is so small, so vulnerable, when he says, “A dad. One who doesn’t want to go away. I just want to be a family.”
And with that admission, the floodgates open.
I pull Jake into my lap. He’s too big, almost as tall as me, but that doesn’t matter, not now, not when he’s so heartbroken. Not when his world is tumbling down around him yet again.
“Oh, Jacob. None of that is your fault. Daddy died because it was his time. God had a purpose for him, and whether we understand it or not doesn’t matter. He was a hero. He saved people’s lives.”
“I miss him, Mom. I wish he didn’t have to die, but…” Jake rubs his face in my shoulder, using my t-shirt to wipe his nose.
“But what?”
“But I think he would’ve liked Miles. Like, I think they could’ve been friends, and if Dad got to pick someone to take his place and make us a family, he’d’ve picked Miles. Even Uncle Jack likes him. And Grandpa, too. I was trying so hard.”
“Yeah.” I run my fingers through his sandy curls, pushing them off his forehead. “I don’t know what to say about Miles. I miss him, too. But I know for a fact that Miles didn’t leave because of anything you did or didn’t do. He obviously cares about you, Jake.” I bury my nose in his hair and press my lips to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of body wash Miles helped Jake pick out.
Jake burrows his head into my neck, his elbow pressing into my stomach. “How do you know?” he asks softly.
“Because he came by here to check on you, baby. To make sure you were doing okay and to keep his promise to you. Maybe he’s got something going on, something that he’s having a hard time dealing with, but he for sure didn’t want you to think he’d forgotten about your deal.” They’re only words. I have no idea if there’s any truth to them, but with each assurance I mumble into Jake’s hair, tension drains from his body. “Why don’t we call it a night, babe? I’ll cover our slices of cake, and we can have them for breakfast.”
“Really?” With a pat to his hip and a shift of my shoulder, Jake gets the hint and sits up, staring at me.
“Really. Go on and brush your teeth.”
“Love you, Mom.” He squeezes me tight and lumbers up the stairs.
I wrap his cake and tuck it into the fridge, but mine, I scrape into the trash. I have no appetite. My stomach churns as I think about how much life has thrown at Jake. How much he’s dealt with and just how hurt he is.
Calling Miles or even texting him is getting me nowhere. And while, initially, I was doing that for me, this is different now. When it hurts my kid, the stakes change. So, I call the only person who has been there with me through everything. The person who caught me when the news about Dallas brought me to my knees.
“Jack, it’s Chloe,” I say. “Do you have a minute?”
“Hey, yeah. Just let me get Hays settled in bed.” He grunts and mumbles under his breath some nonsense about his daughter being too big to be carried up the stairs.
I smile, picturing her clinging to her daddy like a baby koala. “Don’t you say such things to her. Precious Hays is a princess,” I coo as if I were talking directly to her instead of Jack.
“And I’m her man servant. Thank God she and her mama are going to be the only girls in this clubhouse. Hang on, Chloe.”
A thud sounds from Jack putting the phone down, and then he whispers a sweet good night to one of my favorite little girls. A door creaks softly, and then Jack is back.
“So, you’re excited about another boy?” I ask.
Kate had her sonogram a while ago but has been oddly tight-lipped anytime I ask her about it.
“Two boys. Twins again.” He almost sounds like he feels bad about it.
“Jesus, Jack. Is Kate okay, or does she need?—”
“She could probably use a shoulder to cry on and a good bottle of tequila, but she’ll be fine. Deep down, I’m sure she’s excited.” Jack chuckles. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call me to talk babies, so what’s up?”
The sound of dishes clinking together and running water filters through the background. “God, you’re such a good guy. You’re doing the dishes, aren’t you? And you put Hays to bed. I bet you even drew a bath for Kate, so she could relax and cry in peace over being even more overrun by testosterone in the house.”
“Correct on all counts. What’s going on, Chloe? Do I need to come kick Jake’s ass? Get him squared away?”
“Not Jake’s,” I tell him.
The dishwasher door creaks, and the water tap silences. “Go on.” And with those two words, Jack is in full work mode.
“Miles seems to have flaked on us, which is fine really. But Jake is feeling a little brokenhearted—more than a little—and I can’t stand for that.”
“Give me the rundown. Details.” Ice rattles in a glass, followed by the glug and splash of what’s most likely some of the high-end tequila he and Kate adore.
With a deep, bracing breath, I tell Jack what’s up, focusing on the events of the past week. That everything seemed to be going fine, that Miles and I made plans for when he returned from California. How he ghosted. And then—because, really, it’s the most important part—how he broke my kid. When I hear myself relay the events aloud, it doesn’t seem all that bad. That is, until I think of Jake crying in my arms and trying his hardest not to.
“I know I’m being a girl about this, but?—”
“Not at all. Individually, yeah, it’s shit. But considering what he’s been working on and then the final kick in the junk, it kind of makes sense.”
My head is spinning. Jack doesn’t cut anyone slack. Ever. But this goes beyond just giving Miles a pass. “What do you know, Jack? Did you… Did you look into him? Jesus, really?”
He scoffs like that’s a ridiculous question. “Of course I did. Don’t act like that surprises you. You know I would never sit back and watch you give your heart to anyone without knowing what kind of person they were. What kinds of skeletons were in their closets. And I’m not saying Miles is handling things all that great on his end, but maybe give him a pass this time. A week isn’t all that long for him to make peace with his shit.”
“What is Miles handling? What’s he been working toward? What does he need to make peace with?” My heart is racing, and my stomach rolls over on itself, making me wonder yet again if I’m going to need to run for the bathroom and bow before the porcelain throne.
“His trip to California. He didn’t mention what he was going for?”
“I mean, I knew he was going. I knew it was weighing heavy on him, but this is what you guys do. You go into shitty situations and save the world. You don’t talk about it outside of the circle of trust. Then, you come home to your families, and we get to try to make things better—normal—again. But he didn’t come home to me, Jack. I’m not comparing this to how Dallas left us, to how we lost him, but Miles didn’t come home to me. And now, there’s no finality. He’s here, in town. He stopped by but didn’t see me, didn’t talk to me, just got Jake all kinds of upset. And, God, he sobbed, soaked my shirt with snot and tears, just like… like when…” My heart twists painfully as I think back to the morning I told my little boy his daddy was never coming home to us.
“Chloe, you need to flip this one around. Go to Miles. Talk to him.”
“Tell me what’s going on. I can’t walk into this blind. You guys are the heroes, not me.”
“I’ll call your parents, have them come get Jake for the day, maybe a couple days?—”
“We still have school, Jack. We can’t just blow that off,” I say, but I’m already doing a quick rundown of my lesson plans for the first half of the week. I can make it work and take some time.
“Is Miles important to you? Do you…”
“Love him?” I ask and then sigh. “I do. Yeah, I do.” I hate that I don’t say the words to Miles first.
“Then, go to him. Make him talk to you. Make him understand that you’re there for him. That you’re not going anywhere,” Jack says.
Whatever is going on, it’s serious. Gravely serious by the tone of Jack’s voice.
“He’s a good guy, Chloe. And he needs you. He’s going to push you away—hard—but you gotta stick with him.”
“Jack, you’re freaking me out.”
“Don’t. Just… I think he needs you to put him back together.”