He smirks, giving me a wide smile as his hand quickly comes down to squeeze my love handles. He tickles me until I’m squirming, wiggling so I’m trapped between his warm body and the back of the couch. He turns his body to the side to give me space, and we’re so close the whites of his eyes are blurry.
“That day I first came over to help with your leaky sink, remember I was outside with Jax a while before you came out?”
I nod, a miniscule movement given my squished position.
“He was so excited for T-ball, and to play baseball next year. He went on and on about the games, about what it would be like to hit a home run and have fans in the stands screaming for him.”
I want to smile, but the knot in my throat grows with each word. Jackson has dreamed of playing baseball ever since he found out what it was. He talks about it with me, and I’ve been to every practice and every game. I ask him each time if he had fun, and what his favorite part was, but he’s never described itto me the way he did with Jim. He felt comfortable enough with Jim that he opened up about a dream of his the very first time they met.
“When he looked up at me with those big ocean-blue eyes, asking me if I’d like to come see him play, I knew right then and there that I would go to every single game possible. Hell, I’d go watch his practices if he asked me.”
A foreign feeling bubbles in my chest, like if heartburn could feel soothing. I rub at the space over my breasts, desperate to ease the fluttering, but fail miserably. “You switched to grueling twenty-four hour shifts so that you wouldn’t have to tell Jackson you couldn’t make it to one of his games?”
He slides a hand up to squeeze my arm, his legs tangling in mine. “To start, yeah. But having more time away from work meant I’d be available to help you, and my family, too, if they needed.”
His family. This will be a hell of a lot less painful if I let myself believe this was so he could spend more time with his family.
“So when I tell you I demand you quit this case management job and go back to the inpatient unit with Jenna, or apply in the ER and see if you like that, and you can do so without worrying about Jackson because I’m free most days and can hang out with him, it means you have to listen to me, right?”
I swipe a lone tear that threatens to slide past his favorite freckle, clearing my voice roughly. “Well, the only other time I’ve listened to your demands was in the bedroom, so don’t get too ahead of yourself, Charlie-Boy.”
He rolls his eyes, and in a flash he moves, pinning me underneath him as I sink further into the couch. He lays his body on me, pulling back to see the flushed expression on my face. “I demand you at least consider it. Think about it for a few days before giving me an answer.”
I reach a hand up, grasping the neck of his sweatshirt to crash his mouth to mine. We make out like teenagers, hanging out under the guise of watching a movie together. We make out until I’m panting, aching for more and wishing he’d press himself against me just a little harder, but he doesn’t. He slows his pace, a hand coming up to cradle my jaw as his lips heal a part of me with each kiss. My heart flutters, a tickling, light touch against my ribs. When he pulls back, his thumb reaching out to swipe at my puffy bottom lip, I swallow the thick lump in my throat and shrug a shoulder nonchalantly. “I guess if you’re demanding it, I can at least take it into consideration.”
Chapter Fifteen
The slamming of my car door echoes through the otherwise silent parking lot. I take a deep breath in through my nose, pulling the crisp morning air into my lungs.
Early summer mornings are my favorite. The grass is wet, birds chirp happily in their search for breakfast, each sunrise feels like a new beginning, one for both me and my sister.
With Jim’s incessant nagging, and a few phone calls later, my sister was eventually transferred to the new care facility. Besides their list of impeccable services, the facility is closer to the hospital than her previous one, meaning that I can stop by before and after work if I want.
I clutch the bag of muffins to my chest, excited to have a quick snack with my sister before starting my day. I brought extra for the morning staff as well because the care they’ve provided her in the few weeks she’s been there has brought a much-needed relief to my life. The director of nursing frequently emails or texts updates, and staff don’t scurry when they see me enter the building because they have nothing to hide.
When we met with admissions, I was upfront about what my sister has been through and how it impacts the level of care I expect. They didn’t shy away, or give any indication thatthey felt I was being unreasonable. Instead they welcomed her, seamlessly transitioning her into her own private room.
I was determined to work whatever shifts necessary to pay for her stay at this facility, but when the administrator called to discuss payment, I had to grab onto the kitchen counter for balance when I found out that Marissa was awarded an anonymous donation through their program.
The donation is enough to cover her first month’s room and board fees, and then some.
For the first time since I took on both her and Jackson, I’m ahead of the game, financially. I’m an entiremonthahead, which means that if I take a random Saturday night off of work, or go to sleep at a reasonable hour instead of staying up past midnight to write an article, I can still afford to pay their expenses.
For the first time in almost seventeen months, I feel like I can take a full breath.
Which is why I left the house early today, stopping at my favorite bakery to share a cinnamon roll with Jackson before dropping him off at school and bringing muffins to my sister and the staff.
“Good morning, Tina.” I breeze past the receptionist with a wave, her bright smile meeting mine as she covers the phone receiver with her hand before whispering to me, “Your sister is in the day room.”
“Thanks,” I mouth, stopping to pull a muffin from the bag and setting it on her desk.
I make my leisurely walk down the main hall, heels clacking on the freshly buffed linoleum floor. I leave the rest of the muffins in the nursing hub with a note and steal a carton of milk from the community fridge.
I find Marissa exactly where they said. She’s seated in her Broda wheelchair, face tilted towards the sun shining through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The morning sun paints mysister’s face in a golden light, and I take a moment to soak in her beauty before pulling a chair around to her side. I lean in to plant a kiss to the top of her head. “Good morning, gorgeous.”
Marissa swivels her head to find me, and I swear I see the corner of her mouth twitch in an almost smile. “You look good, sister.”
Her cheeks are full of color, and she looks like she’s put on weight since she’s been here, which means she’s eating more and likely getting stronger. A small hope ignites in me at the potential. I envision visits where she has more energy, where she maybe can have better hand control and learn to feed herself. A day where she can sit through a T-ball game, or future baseball game of Jackson’s and not nod off halfway through.
