Page 45 of Monk
“Oh. Bo? Y-you have a… son?”
I don’t know why it’s never occurred to me that Jacob might have a son, or that he might have a woman in his life. I don’t see a ring on his finger, but I suppose that doesn’t necessarily mean much. As much as I hate to admit it, the idea that he’s started a family of his own sends a lance of pain through my heart—something I am not even prepared for. Jacob looks at me, appearing to be thinking of something.
He holds the package in his hand up. “Why don’t you come over. I’m gonna throw some steaks on the grill. You can meet Bo.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that, to be honest. It’s strange enough for me to think about him having a child at all, given how I’d hoped to be having a family with this man one day. But on the other hand, there’s a morbid curiosity. More than that, there’s just something different about Jacob. He’s not the man today he was the last time we were together.
He was always angry and had a darkness to him, don’t get me wrong. And that’s all still there, I suppose. But I think his time away—his time in the military—has changed him. Of course, war changes a person. You can’t be exposed to all of that violence and death and not come out the same person.
But it’s more than that. I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something else about him that just seems different. Maybe time has somewhat tempered that darkness inside of him. I mean, it’s still there, but it’s not necessarily as close to the surface. Don’t get me wrong, he still has that edge of danger to him, like a spring coiled tight and about to at any time.
It’s not just the anger inside of him, though. He seems… lost. He seems disconnected and completely disengaged. There’s just a vast emptiness in his eyes. I’ve heard of a thousand-yard stare, but when I look at him, it’s more like a thousand miles.
All of it makes me wonder what he went through in the military. What he was forced to do. It makes me wonder if that sort of disconnect and disengagement are what made him gravitate toward this biker club in the first place. I don’t know why, but the thought of it, the way he felt as if he had no choice—not to mention all he must have endured—hurts my heart for him.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say.
My eyes widen in surprise as I hear the words fall out of my mouth. The last thing I was planning on was having dinner with him tonight. He looks at me with an expression of surprise on his face I’m sure matches my own. It’s as if he’s not expecting me to agree to come over any more than I do.
“Great. Then why don’t you just follow me?” he offers.
I nod, still too stunned to say anything. But I watch him walk over to his bike and drop the package into his saddlebag. I am so caught up in my own head, I don’t even notice his motorcycle parked half a dozen spots down from my Range Rover. Jacob climbs on and starts it up. He looks over at me, obviously waiting.
Disbelief washing over me, my body feels like it’s moving of its own volition as I get behind the wheel of my car and pull out, following Jacob’s motorcycle down the street.
***
Bo stares at me with warm, chocolate brown eyes, then launches himself at me. Kneeling down, I scratch him under the chin, laughing as he showers me with slobbery, wet kisses.
“I have to admit, I was not expecting Bo to be a Pit Bull,” I say.
I reach out and scratch the big, burly dog behind the ears, then stand back up and wipe my face with my hands. Bo looks at me with the sort of adoration I’ve always wanted to see from my partner. If I want that, I guess maybe I need to get a dog.
“What, did you think I had a kid?” Jacob asks from his spot at the grill.
“In my defense, I don’t know many people who grill steaks for their dog.”
He shrugs. “Bo’s a good boy. He deserves a treat now and then. Besides, I’m not really daddy material, you know?”
Once upon a time, I absolutely believed otherwise. Back then, I’d thought that, despite his rough upbringing, that he would make an amazing dad and I actually looked forward to raising a family with him. The thing about Jacob that nobody else ever saw was just how kind and tender, how gentle and compassionate he can be.
He’s got this whole different side to him that’s caring and nurturing that he doesn’t show to anybody. He hides it as if it’s something to be ashamed of. Or perhaps just feared. His father—and others—undoubtedly saw it as a weakness, so outwardly, Jacob never showed his true nature. But when we were alone, he was like an entirely different person.
“What about you?” he asks. “I’d have thought for sure that you’d have some children by now.”
I manage to form a wan smile, doing my best to stuff down the hurt. I’ve always liked children and yeah, have always wanted a family of my own one day. But those are dreams I’ve had to stifle simply because Spencer doesn’t want kids. I remember he told me we’d talk about it one day, but I knew he was saying that to simply placate me. My dreams have always been subjugated to his career and selfish desires.
“Like I said before, man plans, God laughs,” I say, not without a note of bitterness in my voice.
Jacob frowns but doesn’t say anything, perhaps feeling his own culpability, or perhaps just feeling sorry for me. He gives me a tight smile, then disappears into the house and brings back plates and utensils, setting the table before us.
“Anything I can do?” I ask.
“Can you grab a couple of beers out of the fridge?”
“You got it.”
