Page 61 of Carry Me Home
“I know he will.”
“Are you taking me to the party?”
I smoothed a stray wisp of her braid that was tickling my cheek. “I have to work, ladybug. Jack will take you, and I’ll meet you both there the second I get off work.”
Maya fidgeted with the silky trim of her blanket. “Jack will still be here?”
“Jack will still be here,” I said firmly. “He’s here until September when you go back to school.”
My chest ached. She had asked me that question last night, too. And this morning before I left for work.
And after dinner, she had given him a quick, fierce hug before running to my bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Maya was not a hugger. My breath had caught in my throat as I watched him hug her back with so much tenderness in his face.
She thought he would leave because of her meltdown. I knew he wouldn’t, but all the assurances in the world wouldn’t convince her. She had been left too many times before. The only thing that would prove it to her was time.
Fortunately, Jack was willing to give her that.
We read three books and then I turned out the light. She let me kiss her forehead, which was a small miracle. She was always a little more tolerant of affection in the days following a meltdown. Even meltdowns had a silver lining, and I would take her hugs and kisses while I could get them.
Jack was scrubbing the lasagna pan when I came in for a glass of water. “You don’t have to do that. I pay you to watch Maya, not to do all the chores. Leave it to soak. I’ll take care of it in the morning.” I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and made for the sink.
“I don’t mind. You cooked dinner. Dishes are a fair trade.”
“Well, thanks. But that pan will take you all night. Just soak it, seriously.” I stood there, holding the empty glass, waiting for him to take the hint and get out of my way.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Need something, Ace?”
“The sink.” I held up the glass. “For water.”
“Go ahead. It’s all yours.”
“You’re still scrubbing the pan,” I pointed out. Was he fucking with me?
“Yeah, but I’m not using the faucet. I’ve got all the soap and water I need. Go for it.” His mouth quirked.
Oh, he wasabsolutelyfucking with me.
I gritted my teeth. “You’re in my way.”
“What are you talking about? There’s plenty of space.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “You sure are trying your best not to touch me. What’s the matter, Ace? Scared you might be tempted to kiss me again and then run away and refuse to talk about it?”
“I’m always tempted to kiss you, you giant dingbat,” I snapped.
Oh.
Oh,no.
I slapped a hand over my traitorous mouth, but the damage was done. My admission hung there in the air between us.
We stared at each other.
“Janie.” His eyes never left mine as he wiped the soapsuds from his hands onto his jeans and took the glass from me and set it aside. “You can’t say something like that and expect me not to do something about it. If you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to walk away. I’m going to count to three. One. Two?—”
I didn’t walk away.
I ran.
Maybe one dayI’d act like an adult instead of three juvenile raccoons in a trench coat, but yesterday was not that day. Neither was today, quite frankly. What was it about Jack that made me feel like a hormonal teenager again, desperate for his attention and simultaneously terrified of it?
