Page 41 of The Last Second Chance
Four minutes later, head on his desk, Jax caved.
“Okay. Fine. You gave birth to me and didn’t murder me at any point during my childhood, despite provocation on my part,” he said, reiterating her main points. “I’ll go to your movie night.”
“Really?” Phoebe sounded surprised. “I had more material prepared.”
“You’ve been hanging out with Beckett too much,” he told her.
“It’s Evan. That kid can build a great argument when he wants something. Are you coming to his team’s debate next week?”
“I didn’t realize how demanding family was on time,” Jax teased.
“Well, let me remind you how I basically lived out of our car for three years shuttling you and your brothers to swimming and lacrosse and—”
“For the love of God, Mom,” Jax groaned. “How are the house plans coming?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Oh! We finalized them with Calvin yesterday. I’ll show them to you when you pick me up tomorrow.”
“So we’re driving together?”
“That way you have to show up and can’t pull some fake ‘farm emergency’ situation,” his mom explained cheerfully.
She knew him well.
“Fine, but I’ll drive.” Of all her many positive qualities, being a decent driver was not one of them. Hell, she wasn’t even a passable driver. Growing up, he and his brothers had all experienced carsickness every time Phoebe Pierce took the wheel. Even on the seven-minute drive from the farm to the grocery store. Their vehicular-induced nausea had remained a mystery to Phoebe who insisted that they all just had sensitive inner ears.
“Great! Pick me up at 6:30. And you might want to prepare some material for the Q and A.”
“What Q and A? Mom?” Jax asked, but his mother had already hung up.
He tossed his phone back on the desk. “Well, that sucked,” he said to the dogs. Unimpressed, Meatball opened a bloodshot eye.
Jax ran a hand over his empty stomach. Maybe he’d head downstairs and start dinner for everyone since it looked like Carter and Summer were pulling a late night.
With the dogs on his heels, he padded downstairs barefoot with the intention to rummage through the fridge and cabinets. Grilled cheese sounded like a winner. Maybe he’d stick some bacon in his.
He flipped on the lights and made it two feet into the kitchen before the scene before him processed in his brain.
“Oh my God.” Jax backpedaled and tripped over Valentina, landing on his ass in the doorway of the kitchen. His elbow made contact with the doorframe hard enough for him to see stars.
“Oh my God!” Summer shrieked, making a grab for a too small dishtowel to cover body parts.
“Shit!” Carter, who was at least clothed on his upper half, muttered. He made a dive for Summer’s discarded sweater and in the process tripped and went face first into the upper cabinet. He slid awkwardly to the floor. Meatball waddled around the island to investigate.
Summer hopped off the counter and cowered.
“We didn’t know you were home,” she said, still in shrieking volume.
“Jesus! I can’t believe you guys are allowed to do that when you’re that pregnant!” Jax said, rubbing his eyes to erase the image.
“The doctor said it was fine.” Carter’s muffled reply came from the floor.
“Are you okay, honey?” Summer leaned over to wriggle into her shirt and look at Carter’s face. “Uh-oh. You’re bleeding.”
Jax pulled himself back to his feet.
“Oh, geez. You’re bleeding, too,” Summer said, nodding at Jax’s arm.
“Crap.” He held up his bent elbow to survey the damage.
