Chapter Eighteen
Ilean my head back in the seat as we inch our way through post-game traffic. I told Jim I would have been fine with taking the Red Line, or an uber to the game, but he insisted on driving even though parking and traffic would be a bear. At the time I shrugged it off, but now that I’ve come to understand this protective hold he has over Jackson and me, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Even if it’s going to take us an hour to get out of the parking lot and on the Interstate, he can rest easy knowing we are all safe in his car.
The post-game high and the rush of seeing Jackson so happy still has my blood buzzing. I can’t remember the last time my heart felt this full. I think back to years ago, when Jackson was born. My sister and I cried tears of joy when she held him in her arms for the first time. Then I go a bit further back, to my childhood days when Marissa and I would lay on the floor in my parents’ den and listen to scratchy old records, tapping our toes to the beat. This memory saddles up along with that one as something I will never forget.
“Sorry you didn’t get to catch a foul ball today, bud,” Jim says.
“That’s okay,” Jackson yawns. “We will just have to go again so I can keep trying.”
“It would probably help if we sat in a nosebleed section, not club box seats directly behind the dugout.” I elbow Jim playfully. “They must have cost a fortune.”
Jim shakes his head. “Worth every penny to watch Jackson’s face during the game. And you’re right, bud, we will have to go again so you can keep trying to catch a ball. We have all summer and fall to go. Season’s only just begun.”
We’re met with silence, Jim looks up in the rearview as I turn in my seat to see Jackson, head against the side window, fast asleep.
“I think running the bases wore him out,” I whisper-laugh. Jim’s arm is resting on the console in between us, and I watch his side profile as he maneuvers through traffic, red brake lights reflecting off his face. I run a palm down his forearm until it reaches his hand, his arm rotating so his palm is up and ready for mine. “Thank you, Jim. Today was amazing.” I squeeze his hand and he returns the gesture. I relax in the seat, rolling the window down to let the warm summer air filter through. Reaching an arm out, I curl my hand into a wave and let the breeze dictate my movements.
That foreign, bubbly feeling is back in my chest.
It isn’t the cheap ballpark beer I had three hours ago.
It isn’t because I had a full eight hours of sleep last night instead of working a grueling third shift.
It’s a lightness. A feeling you only get after you’ve smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. It’s the first kiss after a great date. It’s knowing my sister is safe and cared for. Seeing Jackson smiling more than not. It’s being able to finally breathe after being under a financial rock for the last year. And all those things have been made possible by the man to my left.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt such pure happiness.
Pulling my hand in from the window, I reach over to curl it under his bicep, squeezing to get his attention. “Thank you,” I tell him again.
He brings our clasped hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of my hand. “Had fun today?”
I rest my elbows on the center console, leaning over slightly to plant a kiss on his cheekbone. Jim leans into my touch, head tilting in my direction while keeping his eyes on the road. “I did, but I’m not just talking about today. Thank you.”
~
“I think I can carry him in,” Jim whispers, opening the car door as quietly as possible. He leans into the back seat, unbuckling Jackson’s seat belt, letting his limp, sleeping body slump into his arms. Jim cradles his head, hiking him up further on his body to carry him into the house.
I move ahead of them, taking off Jackson’s shoes at the front door and leading him into the bedroom. I pull back the sheets on his bed, and Jim lays him down. Jackson immediately rolls over and curls around his pillow, his breathing evening out as he falls fast asleep.
Tucking his new Clark the Cub souvenir bear under his arm, I place a soft kiss on Jackson’s head before pulling the blankets up and over him. I click his bedside lamp off and flick on the nightlight outside the room to illuminate the hall. Jim steps out of the room, and I shut the door most of the way, leaving it open a crack before leading Jim back into the kitchen.
I head straight for the fridge to pull out a pitcher of water, turning then to the cabinets for a set of glasses. “Would you like a glass of water?” It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I don’t want him to leave just yet.
He nods, so I pour us two glasses, handing him one as I grab mine.
He props a hip on the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving mine as he drinks the cold water, his throat flexing with each swallow.
I lean my elbows down on the island, setting my glass in front of me and running a finger back and forth over the lip. Neither of us speak, the air around us crackling with every unsaid word. The small kitchen feeling incredibly intimate as his eyes rake over me.
“Thank you.” I tell him again.
“You’ve already thanked me.”
“I just want to make sure you heard me. Today was…” Today was magic. Today is something Jackson will talk about for months on end. “Today was the best day I’ve had since my sister’s accident.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Megan. I just want you to be happy.”
I stand, finishing off my half glass of water and turning to set the empty glass in the sink. When I turn around, Jim has moved from his spot by the island to stand in the narrow single lane between the island and opposite cabinets.
