He rubs a hand up the back of my calf, massaging as he goes. When he speaks, his voice is low, hoarse, filled with tension. “I don’t know if I can stomach knowing what he said to you.”
I laugh softly and look over at him. “He told me not to do it. He said that neither of them would beworththe stress of looking after. He told me to let the court system handle it, and let them both become wards of the State.” The idea of giving up Jackson, of having him go into the foster system and live the life I had when I was a kid is something I could never let happen. That asshole had the audacity to suggest I give someone else the power and become a casual visitor in their lives.
Jim’s nostrils flare as his lips purse together. He leans back for a second, letting out a rough exhale as he comes back, graspingmy biceps with his hands and nudging me, forcing me to look up at him. “You know he’s a fucking psycho, right? Only someone who is a legitimate narcissistic psychopath would tell you that.”
I nod, inhaling slowly through my nose to quell the tears. “I know. I know that now. I knew it at the time, too, but it still stung. I think the part that hurts the most is that since we had dated before, he knew my sister when she was still herself.” When she was young and talented and killing it as a brand-new mom. He knew both her and Jackson and he still thought they weren’t worth giving up everything to care for. He was able to sit and watchMickey Mousewith Jackson, say goodnight to him, then turn around and tell me to give him up. He could look at that sweet face and still be able to walk away.
I let my head fall to the side and rest on the cushion. Jim reaches for me, tugging at my arms and pulling my body until I’m laying on him, and we’re sprawled out on the couch. My head rests on his chest, and I let myself bask in the thump, thump, thump of his heart.
“Like I said,” he murmurs, lips pressed against the top of my head. “A total psychopath.” He’s quiet for another minute before continuing. “What you’re doing is amazing. You’re finding ways to make even the hardest situation work, and I envy your strength, Meg. I know others do, too. But I hope you know that I would never,neverask you to give up either of them.”
I nod against his shoulder. “I know.” I really do believe him. I know Jim is nothing like my ex, but when I ended it with him for good, and started the process of guardianship for my sister and Jackson, I felt such an empty sense of loneliness, I almost can’t describe it.
My friends would call and offer help, and my parents have always been my biggest supporters, but at the end of the day, when the chaos was over and everyone went back to their own lives, it was always just me and my thoughts. I spent the firstfew months crying myself to sleep nearly every night, wondering how I would swing it emotionally, financially, logistically. Eventually I woke up with a hardened exterior, skin so thick that no man would ever be able to perforate it ever again.
I no longer believe that a date would be just a casual date. I don’t have the luxury of testing the waters, of getting to know someone when I have the heart of a five-year-old on the line. It isn’t about me and my needs right now, and I’m okay with that.
I roll my head up to look at Jim, and he tilts his head down to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry. I need you to believe that it really isn’t you. It’s me. I haven’t been on a date since my ex.” I pause, a silent debate with myself on confessing my most intimate truth. “You’re the only man I’ve even been with since my sister’s accident.”
He reaches a hand up to comb his fingers through my hair that’s fallen free from my messy bun. He runs his palm over the back of my head, finger combing through the tangles and smoothing a path down the center of my back. When my hair falls free from the tips of his fingers, his hand comes back to my forehead, starting its path once more. “I believe you,” he whispers. “I’m glad I’m the one you chose.”
Me too.
“I need you to know that this isn’t a line I’m trying to feed you so I could get into your pants, even though I really liked being in your pants,” he teases. “But if you ever felt like you wanted to try, to give me a real chance, and for some reason it didn’t work out, I promise you I’d still want to be in Jackson’s life, if you’d let me.”
I lay my head back on his chest, wrapping an arm around his core to squeeze him. His hands meet around my back, rubbing rough movements up and down.
“I want to be there through baseball and junior high. I’ll be there through his gloomy teenage days and puberty, I can teach him to drive a stick shift and fix your plumbing. I’ll be there forcollege graduation if you’ll let me. Hell, I have to stick around just so I can show him how to pick up women.”
I reach a hand down to playfully pinch his side, rubbing my cheek against his chest to catch my tears. “You better teach him to be a gentleman.”
He moves his chin to rest on the top of my head. “That I will, promise. He’s a great kid, raised by two phenomenal women, but I’d love to be there, too. I also think you should tell me who this asshole is so I can teach him a lesson he clearly deserves.”
I laugh, pulling back to playfully shove Jim as I peel myself away from his body. I grab my half cup of cold tea from the coffee table to bring it to the kitchen. “No planned murder on my behalf, thanks. But if you ever happen to meet a biomedical engineer named Marcus Sheppard, and decide to throw punches on your own accord? Well, I couldn’t fault you for that.”
Jim’s movements still, hands freezing mid-push off the couch as his face blanches.
I grip the back of his neck, moving my palm under the collar of his tee to rub his back. “Are you okay? Are you going to be sick?”
He stares at the cup in my hand, nostrils flaring, before he responds with a head shake.
“Wait.” I step back. “Do you know Marcus?”
He clears his throat roughly. “Nope. Never heard of him. Just had a weird wave of nausea and wasn’t sure if I’d be sick.” He shakes his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead before standing, pulling the cup from my grasp. “Come on, I’ll help you with the dishes before it gets late.”
Chapter Twelve
Me: Hey! Are you free Wednesday?
Delete.
Me: What’s your schedule like this week? I was
thinking…
Boring. Delete.
“Ugh, fuck me,” I murmur aloud to myself. When did I become so awkward with a guy?
