Bittersweet (Redemption #3) - Jessica Prince Page 0,62
For some insane reason, my gaze shot across to the other side of the bed, looking for an indentation in the pillow that rested there.
“Slept on the couch,” Jensen said with humor in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be alone while you were feelin’ so bad. And I wanted to be around in case Brant needed anything during the night.”
My lips parted as I let out a soft exhale. He’d broken my heart in the very worst way, but as I looked up at him now, I couldn’t find any of the anger I’d been harboring inside me so long. The anger that had fueled me. I’d carried it around with me every single day for years, but as I searched for it now, I couldn’t find it.
“You stayed all day and night?”
He read the softness on my face and the wonder in my voice just as easily as he would have back when we were together and he could tell my every emotion with a simple look. “No way I was leaving you in the state you were in yesterday, honey. I told you, I’m here now. I’m gonna do my part.”
We sat there silently for what felt like an eternity, just staring at each other as electricity crackled in the air between us. That shield I used to protect myself, that wall I’d reinforced with steel and barbed wire, took a direct hit. And as amazing as it was to admit, I didn’t really care. Jensen Rose had once dug his way past my defenses without me even noticing, and it seemed he’d done it again.
“Dad ordered pizza for dinner, then we made root beer floats!” Brantley declared, breaking the heady moment we were just in.
My expression changed, my eyes and mouth flattened in a look that he shrugged off like it was nothing.
“So . . . junk on top of more junk?”
“It’s the best I could do. You remember what I used to be like in the kitchen. I can assure you, it hasn’t gotten any better over the years. Would you really have wanted me take the risk of feeding our son something I made?”
I remembered back to our time together and what a godawful cook he’d been and cringed. “Good point. Okay, in that case, I guess I should get up and get a start on breakfast.” I gave my boy a playful pat. “Hop up, bud. You feel like French toast?”
“Actually, I already took care of it.” Jensen laughed when I turned to him with fright carved into my features. “Relax, I didn’t make it. Brant and I went and picked up breakfast tacos from Hacienda. Yours is in the kitchen.” My mouth began to water. Hacienda made the best breakfast tacos in the universe. With my strapped budget, I hadn’t eaten there in forever, but now that he’d mentioned it, I started imagining that I could actually smell the eggs and sausage and crispy bacon wafting through the house. “Also made a pot of coffee. You’re allowed to get up just long enough to eat and shower—if you have the energy—then it’s back to bed for the rest of the day. You might be feeling better, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”
“Jensen, I don’t have the luxury of lying in bed all day. Brant has a Mother’s Day Out class this morning that he’s not gonna want to miss, then I have a pile of laundry waiting to be done, and I have to clean pretty much everything in the house to make sure I get rid of all the flu germs. Then I have to pick Brant up from class. There’s a thousand things I have to do today.”
He didn’t address anything I’d just said. Instead, he looked across me to our son and said, “Hey, bud. Why don’t you go get dressed and brush your teeth while I talk to your momma, yeah?”
“Okay, Dad.” He hopped off the bed and raced out of the room, his little socked feet sliding on the laminate floors, sending him crashing into a wall in the hallway.
I sat there calmly and waited while Jensen grunted, “Jesus Christ,” and shot to his feet.
A second later Brantley shouted, “I’m okay!” before taking off again.
“Happens all the time,” I told Jensen. “You get used to it. Kid’s got a hard head. A little drywall won’t hurt him, but I do try to make sure he doesn’t wear socks in the house very