Page 25 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
He lays their jackets over the back of a kitchen chair. “Practice was lighter today, and with the game tomorrow night, we wrapped up early. I like to pick them up when I can. Plus, Miss Taylor has the day off.”
“Hey Ava!” Noah says, bounding over like a ping pong ball set loose. “Guess what? We got to make volcanoes in science class. Mine erupted and hit the ceiling.”
I laugh and set the laundry basket on the bench by the stairs. “Sounds like an eventful day.”
Liam’s slower to approach. He hovers behind his brother, eyes flicking between me and the floor like he’s working up to something.
“Hi,” he finally says, quieter.
“Hi,” I answer gently. “Did you make a volcano too?”
He nods once. “But mine didn’t explode.”
“Explosions are overrated,” I whisper. “Sometimes the quiet ones are the coolest.”
That earns me the tiniest smile. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. But it’s there. And it stays with me.
Liam leans in closer.
“Volcanos are wherelava dragonscome from.”
I open my eyes wide.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a lava dragon before.”
Noah shouts, “We’ll draw you one!”
Jackson stands a few feet away, watching the scene quietly. There’s something in his eyes: soft, maybe a little surprised. Like he didn’t see this coming, but he doesn’t mind it one bit.
“We are gonna do snacks and homework,” Jackson says after a beat, glancing at the twins.
Then he turns to me. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” I admit.
A few minutes later, we’re in the kitchen. Jackson’s slicing apples while the boys argue over whose worksheet has more problems. I help Liam sound out a few tricky words while Noah scarfs down a peanut butter sandwich. Afterward, he collapses with a groan, dramatically declaring that his homework is“so hard.”
Jackson sets a glass of apple juice in front of Noah and Liam, then hands me a water bottle.
“You said you’ve got a game tomorrow?” I ask.
He nods, grabbing his own bottle. “Yeah. It’s a big one. We need this win.”
We hang in that rhythm for a while: homework, snacks, light conversation. Noah eventually declares himself “basically dying of hunger again,” which cues dinner prep.
After dinner and a few rounds of trying to convince Noah that yes, brushing his teethisstill required even if he “barely ate anything,” the house finally quiets down. Jackson walks the boys back to their room while I rinse a few dishes and stack them neatly in the drying rack.
Miss Taylor reappears from a late errand and offers to tuck the twins in. I think they like having a rotation of adults to choose from. It probably makes bedtime negotiations more exciting.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and glance toward the guest room. My phone’s been charging on the nightstand, face down, untouched since this afternoon.
The moment I pick it up, it buzzes in my hand.
Brad (5 new messages)Brad (2 new voicemails)
I should’ve put it on airplane mode.
I don’t open them right away. I just stare at the screen, my thumb hovering. The little preview bubbles taunt me.
