Page 73 of Hold on Tight

“Okay if I drive first?”

She touched his hair, put her lips to his clean-shaven cheek, and breathed the soap scent of him in. “Yeah.”

Chapter 23

Jake drove the whole way. Instead of taking I-5 south, he took the route that brought them closer to the Pacific, so he could wind down through the bays and inlets of Raymond and the other oystering towns of the southern Washington coast. The sun was out, and the broad, flat expanses of water sparkled and shone. Sam fell asleep first, his breathing buzzy from the backseat. Ten minutes later, Jake looked over to see Mira’s head lolling back against her seat. It was peaceful, driving the two of them as they slept, the car like a bubble, warm and quiet.

He had called his mother early this morning to tell her he was bringing “someone who was very important to him.” He’d been scheduled to spend this weekend with her anyway, and his sister, brother, niece, and nephew were all supposed to head out to join them. He didn’t tell her who Sam was. Too weird to do that over the phone. Better to show up and shock the hell out of her.

Over pancakes, Sam had issued an endless series of questions.

“Can I tell the kids at school? That I got a dad?”

“Huh,” Mira said. “Let me give that some thought, okay, Sam?”

“What do Icallyou?”

Jake had given Mira a stricken look. Because he suddenly couldn’t find his voice. It was choked back beneath layers of grief, and he was afraid that if he spoke, he’d break down, and he didn’t want to scare the hell out of Sam.

“What do youwantto call him?”

“Can I call him Dad?”

Mira looked to him for approval. For a moment he was too staggered to move. He hadn’t thought it would matter to him what Sam called him, but it mattered. God, it mattered. He nodded.

Sam mulled it over carefully. “I might forget sometimes and still call him Jake.”

“That’s okay, too,” Mira said.

Jake had looked at Mira over the top of Sam’s head, and she’d smiled at him, and he’d thought,This.

And then,I’m in so deep.

Mira woke up when they pulled onto the bumpy access road to his mom’s beach house. “Are we here?”

“Uh-huh.”

He parked in the driveway, and Sam whimpered in the backseat and woke up.

“Is this my other grandma’s house?”

“Yup.”

And there, in the doorway, was Sam’s other grandma. She looked good, a little heavier than Jake remembered, which wasn’t a bad thing, because she tended not to eat when she was stressed out. She’d been barely more than a frame to hang clothes off by the time he’d left Walter Reed. Her hair was all puffed out like she’d been walking on the beach, a mass of silver that was sometimes tight curls but right now was a cloud. She came down the steps to the car and hugged Jake. “Look at you!” she said. “Look at you driving and walking and—you look great! You look—happy. Healthy. Oh, so good to see you looking so good. Oh, Jake.” She reached up and patted his face.

“Mom. I have some people I need you to meet.”

Mira got out of the car. She was pale; he could see it from here.

“Mom, this is Mira.”

“Hello, Mira.” His mother extended her hand, polite. Her face was quizzical, but she was willing to be patient, he could see, to find out what all this meant. Who Mira was to him.

I’d explain it if I understood it, Mom.

“And this guy—” Jake put his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “This is Sam. Mom. You might want to sit down.”

He tried to warn her with his voice. To give her a moment, a little space to process what was sure to be a large shock.

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