Page 41 of Carry Me Home
She considered. “Maybe after lunch.”
My stomach clenched as I watched the scene unfold below me. I saw him take in her unsmiling face. There was no hug to greet him, either. I hope he didn’t take that personally. The smiles would come in time.
She was actually excited he was here, but I knew how she looked to people who didn’t know her very well. I bit my tongue against the urge to tell him that, to smooth their path to friendship and clear the roadblocks of misunderstanding. They needed to figure these things out for themselves because they would be spending a lot of time together, just the two of them. I wouldn’t be around to micromanage their relationship.
But Jack didn’t seem to need my interference, anyway. He nodded and kept moving. “Sounds like a plan.”
Two steps from the top, he stopped in front of me, putting us at eye level. He set the suitcases down on either side of me. Those full lips quirked as he took my mug from me and lifted it to his mouth. He took a sip and handed it back to me. “It’s good. You got any more of that inside for me, Ace?” he asked.
Why did that sound so dirty? “If you…if you want.” I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, and somehow that made me feel vulnerable because he could see everything in mine.
“I want,” he said, his voice a little husky.
“Why do you call her Ace?” Maya asked. She had gotten to her feet and now observed us with curious eyes.
Maya. Jack’s reason for being here. My reason for…everything.
The fog of lust dispersed from my brain at the sound of her voice. I cleared my throat. “We play cards at the bar sometimes. You know how my favorite cards are the aces? That’s why he calls me Ace.”
Jack chuckled softly as he pulled his sunglasses from his face and hooked them over the collar of his T-shirt. “You think so?”
What did he mean by that? I wasn’t a snoop or a crack reporter, and I couldn’t think of another reason he would call me Ace.
“I like nicknames,” Maya said thoughtfully. “Mother calls me ladybug because of my red hair.”
“And because you’re cute as a bug,” I said.
“That’s an opinion. My red hair is a fact.” She looked at me. “Do you have a nickname for Jack?”
“Not really,” I hedged, not wanting the light of my life to discover what a petty brat her mother was. My cheeks felt hot.
Jack’s assessing gaze swept over my face. “She calls me soldier.”
“Because you’re a soldier?” Maya guessed.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m not a soldier.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know that.”
Jack’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Oh, she knows.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think that might be why she does it. Just to fu—uh, just to annoy me. She thinks it’s fun to tease me.”
Maya gasped. Shehatedbeing teased. She spun to me with an appalled expression. “That’s not what nicknames are for, Mother,” she chastised me.
My face felt beet red.
“But I like it,” Jack said, his eyes on me.
“That’s silly,” Maya said. “No one likes to be annoyed.”
Jack shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a silly guy,” said the least silly man ever to walk the earth.
I pressed my lips together and he winked at me.
“Grab your bags,” I said. “I’ll show you your room.”
I had spentthe last week agonizing over the details of moving Jack into our yellow, three-bedroom Craftsman bungalow with as little disruption to Maya as possible. My bedroom was right next to Maya’s; Jack would be down the hallway from us both. I moved Maya’s stuff into my ensuite so that he could have the hallway bathroom all to himself.
I even cleared a shelf off in the pantry so he could have his own snacks and not feel like he had to share with us, although of course he could help himself to whatever we had available. Maya was particular about food and went through phases where she’d only eat two or three different things before she’d move on to something else, so I made sure he understood the system we had in place that ensured we never ran out of anything, becausewhew. An autistic meltdown was one thing. An autistic meltdown when Maya was hangry was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
