Page 36 of Could Have Been Us
She shimmies until he lets her go, and then her feet are moving at warp speed to get to the couch.
Jack stands outside the loft. “Are you sure this is okay?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
He moves toward me, and I tense as his lips brush my cheek. He smells so good. His fresh scent fills me, and I stay still, absorbing it.
“Thanks, Meatball.”
I groan at the stupid nickname. Not just because I have to hear it from my brothers but because it solidifies what Jack thinks of me. I’m that kid. The little girl who is annoying and likes to tag along whenever I can. I can’t bear hearing it from him.
“No,” I say, leaning back. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me your little sister. Make me that girl. I’ve never been that, Jack. I won’t be tonight.”
He waits a beat, looking at me, and I can almost feel his thoughts rioting through him. “No, you’re not.”
I want to say more, but Amelia is waiting, and hopefully, after she falls asleep, we’ll be able to talk about everything that’s happening.
* * *
We’re only an hour into the movie, and Amelia is out, leaving Jack and me to suffer through the princess movie she had to watch because she can’t get enough of it. To be young and believe that princes exist.
Jack moves the blanket up over her a little higher. “She’s so cute when she’s sleeping.”
“She’s cute all the time.”
He smiles. “She is.”
My stupid heart sputters watching him with her.
“Jack, we need to talk,” I say softly.
“If it’s about the other night—”
“It’s not. It’s about Samuel.”
“Samuel?” he asks, his head pulling back.
I nod. “Let’s get her to bed first.”
Jack carries Amelia to her room, and we tuck her in. Jack and I putting a little girl to bed after we watched a movie is so domestic, so perfectly simple of a thing, and it feels natural.
It could have been us. It should’ve been us. But it isn’t, and I’d do well to remember that.
As I pull the door closed, I turn to find him already pacing the living room. “What about Samuel?”
I tell him about my last trip down. He sits, listening as the information pours out. There’s been so much in my head, and I’ve been dealing with it the best I can, but by unpacking all that stress on someone, it’s as if a small weight is lifting with each word.
After a moment, he lets out a long puff of air and shakes his head. “And he has no one down there?”
“No, his boss seemed like a great guy when I talked to him, but I don’t know what is going on or if he’s working. He’s not answering my calls. I feel like...like we have to do something.”
“We’re not her parents, Stella. We can’t go down there and make demands or do anything. I’m not sure what exactly you’re expecting.”
“We have to do something.”
