Emma

By the time I hear the familiar rumble of motorcycles that herald Jacob’s approach, Max has finally calmed down and is tucking into an ice cream sundae, his mouth ringed with strawberry ice cream like a clown, having already devoured a burger, fries, and milkshake. I dread to think what our final check will be but it’s worth the extra shifts to see him happy.

The bell above the door chimes and I look up to see the comforting shape of my brother striding in. He pulls off his helmet, revealing his trademark long, salt and pepper hair and bushy beard. These days he’s still muscular but he has a rather sizeable beer gut, resulting in Max calling him Santa on more than one occasion. Luckily, he sees the funny side and intends to get dressed up in full Father Christmas regalia this year as a surprise for Max.

Max notices me looking and swivels around in his seat, “Uncle Jacob!” he cries, leaping out and running over to hug his uncle, sticky fingers and all.

Jacob hugs him back tightly, not seeming to care about the residue of ice cream that gets rubbed all over his t-shirt in the process. “Hey, Champ, how are you?”

“I’m okay, some bad guys were chasing us, but we beat them and got to have ice cream and milkshakes and burgers as areward!” he exclaims, his earlier terror forgotten with the arrival of his uncle and a belly full of treats.

If only I could forget so easily.

Jacob is already aware of the situation, though I only briefly explained what happened, before he insisted he was on his way and hung up. I know he’s going to grill me for more details now. I stand up as he and Max return to our table, allowing myself to be pulled into a bear hug by my big brother. His strong, solid presence makes me feel like a child again and I can’t stop the tears that well up.

“Shh, it’s okay now, J-Bird’s here,” he soothes, referring to himself as the childhood nickname I gave him, that he later adopted as his club name—though I’m sure he doesn’t reveal the true origins behind the name to his buddies.

Once I’ve collected myself, we sit down in the booth. The friendly waitress comes over to take our orders, seemingly on edge around Jacob’s intimidating presence.

“Can I get y’all anything?” she asks, plastering on a smile.

“Two beers , and a chocolate milkshake for the boy,” Jacob replies.

“Coming right up.”

“Jacob, I’m driving…”

He fixes me with a stern look that lets me know he won’t take no for an answer, “Em, after the day you’ve had, trust me, you need a drink.”

The waitress brings our drinks over and I reluctantly take mine. However, after a couple of sips, I realize Jacob was right, it is helping to calm my frazzled nerves.

Jacob encourages Max to watch something on his phone, making sure the earbuds are secure and then patiently waits for me to finish, no doubt noticing how my hands are no longer shaking so much, before he speaks. “I’ve got my men riding around within a few miles of here and your home, if they spot the car waiting for you somewhere, they’ll handle with it. I’ve also sent men ahead to check your home is safe.”

“I’m sure you didn’t need to…” I start but he holds up a hand to silence me.

“Em, I’m not playing around here,” he glances at Max to make sure he’s not listening, “You could have died. Who the fuck are these people, and why do they want Max?”

“I don’t know, but it seems as though this isn’t the first time they’ve come into contact with Max.” I hesitate before adding, “Max seems to think that the man who turned up at the school today is his dad.”

“What the fuck?” he exclaims, and I shoot him a look to tell him off for cursing within earshot of Max. “Why would Max think that?”

“He says the man told him,” I reply helplessly. “The thing is, he’s been talking about seeing his dad for a while now. I even took him to a shrink who agreed it was just an imaginary friend, but now I’m worried that it might have been this stranger all along.” I cry, my voice coming out in a strangled tone.

“Jesus Emma, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d overreact and start following us around interrogating any man that so much as looked in our direction!” At his expression, I know he’s thinking that if he had done, things might have been solved by now. “I know, alright I was wrong, okay? But can we focus on who it might be and forget about it?”

“Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees. “Could it be some dude you hooked up with trying to get revenge or some bullshit?” Jacob asks, his tone implying he’d like to beat up any man who might have been involved with me.

“No. It’s impossible,” I insist. Upon noticing the doubt in his expression I add, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t dated anyone since Adam died.”

“Okay, well then maybe it’s some weirdo who has a thing for you? Have any guys at work or elsewhere shown an unusual interest in you or Max?” he asks, cracking his knuckles.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary, and no one who matches the description the teacher gave. They said he was around six-foot, muscular, with short brown hair and a beard.”

“So nothing like weaselly little Adam,” Jacob mutters.

While I agree with my brother, his dislike of Adam was always a sticking point between us while he was alive. “Jacob, he’s dead. Can you drop it?” I snip.