want to talk to her and tell her what’s going on, but I don’t want to burden her. I send her a quick I’m okay, call you later text and wait for Jake to get off the phone.
As I stand in my kitchen, listening to his clipped conversation, I’m transported back to another time and place. Jake would often come to Elmhurst after my dad died. My mother was a capable woman, but she struggled with certain chores due to her heart condition.
Jake would wordlessly tackle her to-do list while Mom and I made dinner to reward him. We’d eat and then sit out on the patio to drink whiskey and talk. Sometimes we’d crash in my old room, making love quietly so as not to wake my mother. Back then, I couldn’t imagine ever loving another man. Even now, I can’t believe it was something as insignificant as distance that tore us apart.
How did we end up here?
“Okay, he’s on it.” Jake brings me back to the present.
I nod. “So what now?”
“Now we wait.” He exhales. “Except that’s not going to work for you, is it?” His hands find my shoulders and squeeze.
I shake my head. “If I wanted to wait, I would have done what Toby wanted.”
“Roger that.”
Instead of stepping away, I move into his arms. His hands hover, then slide lower and tighten on my lower back. I rest my head against his chest. His heart thumps beneath my ear and gains momentum. My fingers tighten instinctively and glide up and down his studded spine. My breath deepens. I tilt my face toward his.
“Rebecca.” His voice grows husky.
In his arms, I want him to erase it all. My past. Chris. Jackson’s disappearance. My mother. The truth. I just want to feel something other than this pain that threatens to destroy me at every turn. His fingers wander up my hips and ribs and hesitate on the outer curves of my breasts. My body goes limp as his fingers dance on my neck, then up to my jawline. My body pulses so hard it hurts.
“Please.” The word is a demand. I close my eyes. His mouth moves closer. The memory of us resurfaces and grips me around the throat. I can’t breathe, but I lean in.
His phone slices through our moment. He recedes and the mood shifts. The passion instantly drains from my body.
“Yep, got it. Thanks, man.” He hangs up. “Got three hits on the kid’s boutiques. Chicago’s the closest. We’ll go first thing?”
I nod. Hope surges. There will be a next step. Though he doesn’t speak, I know the apology he’s already forming in his head.
“Bec…”
“Don’t.” I straighten my clothes and attempt to calm my nerves. “I’m going to head up, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”
His fingers encircle my wrist when I pass him. “Are we okay?”
I nod. The baby starts crying, and I extract my hand. “We’re fine.”
I remove a bottle from the refrigerator and climb the stairs to tend to a baby that’s not mine. Downstairs is a man who was once mine and now isn’t. And yet here we are, caught in a tangled web where we almost just kissed. Life keeps tricking and challenging me with its hardships, tragedy, and time. But grief doesn’t stop a life. It doesn’t cause the whole world to stand still with you, because there are still bills to pay, friendships to keep, and relationships to forge. There’s school, work, grocery shopping, and health crises. Emergencies. More loss, even when you think you can’t possibly bear it.
I pick up the baby, sit in the rocking chair, and feed him from the bottle. Jackson used to be my reprieve from all the heaviness of life. Even in just a few short months, I could sit still with him in this chair—just the two of us—and we were independent of our losses. He wasn’t a son without a father. I wasn’t a wife without a husband. We were just mother and son, bonded.
I adjust the bottle and the baby’s head. My heart breaks for this little unwanted boy. I check his temperature again, but his forehead is cool, his breathing already better than it was. It makes me feel good—however ridiculous—to know that I can take care of someone who needs it.
I pause mid-rock and wonder: who will ever take care of me?
You will. The words are hard but true. My eyes snap open. Jess is right. Every time someone has attempted to help, I rebuff