Page 55 of Reclaim

The game finisheswith Jagger’s team wiping the floor with the poor young boys. Watching him in his element, the way he’s respected and admired, has me proud and breaks my heart. I’m here acting petty about someone who has no impact on the way we love one another, when the bigger issue is how can I get him working with these kids all the time. I have no doubt Hendrix was inspired by real life events when he started on this career, but Jagger is a magnet for these kids--his personal experiences set him apart from anyone else. The young kids feel understood when Jagger listens.

He notices me watching him, and I take his eye contact as an invitation to approach him.

I need to apologise.

While I had a right to be angry, I didn’t need old insecurities about our timing and his priorities to make themselves comfortable in our relationship.

Striding towards him, I place my palms on his chest the second I reach him. Covering my hands, we both sigh in relief at the contact.

“I’m sorry.” The words spout out before Jagger has a chance at saying anything.

“You don’t need to apologise to me.” He skims my cheek with his fingertips, my head leaning into his touch. “We’re still learning.”

“I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat.”

“If it makes you feel any better, everyone here knows about you.”

“Even Stacey?” I joke.

“Especially Stacey.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Thanks for coming.”

“Always.”

19

Emerson

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Jagger is napping on the couch while I’m on the recliner flicking through Netflix looking for something to watch. This is the third weekend in a row where I have suggested we go out and he has deliberately shut it down.

I’ve mentioned cafes, the movies, going out with Hendrix, or taking Dakota to the circus. The list is endless, and he’s not interested in any of it.

“Hey.” The front door opens, and a sweaty Hendrix walks in from his run.

“Hey,” I sigh.

Glancing over at Jagger, he looks back at me. “Still didn’t want to go anywhere?”

I shake my head. “I’m really starting to worry.”

“What do you think it is?” He heads to the kitchen and I follow, not wanting to wake Jagger up.

“I’m out of ideas, but I do know if I push him about it, it’s probably going to start World War Three.”

“Maybe you need to fight about it for him to realise it’s serious,” Hendrix offers.

“He’ll take it the wrong way,” I say with certainty. “He will convince himself I want extravagant things that he can’t give me because of his conditions, when it’s not that at all.”

“You might just have to bite the bullet on this one.”

“I’ve thought of it from every angle, and I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he want to leave the house?”

“Maybe get Dakota to pester him about it.”

“Pester me about what?” He eyes us suspiciously, and I look to Hendrix wondering how we managed to not hear him get up.

Thinking of one last tactic, I pray that it makes all the difference. “Do you want to come over and see my place?”

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