Page 23 of I Found You
A second later, my phone dinged with a text message.
Jackson: THANK YOU. UR THE BEST
“Does he have any way of getting it to the garage?” Wyatt asked.
“Huh?”
“The truck. I’m guessing it doesn’t run. Rather than bring it here, why doesn’t he have someone drop it off at the garage?”
“No.” It was surprising I didn’t get dizzy with how quickly I swung my head back and forth. “You’ve done so much already. You don’t need to be taking on Jackson’s project on top of everything else.”
“I’m not going to,” he said with a smirk. “I can give him a space to work, access to tools, and a little guidance if he needs it. If he wants to.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. There’s a difference.”
Tears tried to pool in my eyes, but I blinked them away. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out. You don’t need some kid getting under your feet while you’re trying to work.”
“Maeve, he’s nineteen, not nine. He’s not a little kid. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Call your brother. Tell him to bring the truck there. If he needs help towing it over, just let me know. I have plenty of contacts.”
He was looking at me expectantly, so I picked up the phone and shot Jackson a text message. I laid Wyatt’s offer on thetable and got an immediate reply back.
Jackson: Seriously? I’ll find a way to get it over there if he’s serious.
Me: Yeah. I asked him twice, he’s serious. He said you could use his tools and stuff, too.
Me: But don’t break anything.
Me: And don’t be a pain while he’s working
Jackson: Any other rules I should know about? Am I supposed to ask him his intentions with you? LMAO
Me: DON’T YOU DARE! I swear Jackson, if you embarrass me, I’ll make him rescind his offer.
“Everything okay over there? You’re typing awfully aggressively,” Wyatt asked, his brow raised.
“Yeah. Brothers are the worst. He’s going to get the truck over to the garage. But if he says something dumb to you, feel free to tell him he needs to go.”
Wyatt just laughed and proceeded to take Jane on a tour of the house, pointing out every item and telling her its name. Lamp, table, picture, fan, wall. My ribs felt too tight or my heart too big, watching them together.
I made dinner while Wyatt played with Jane. She started to get fussy, but my hands were dirty from breading the chicken I was making.
“Shoot. Hold on. I have to wash my hands, then I’ll get her bottle ready.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ve got her bottle.” Wyatt pulled a clean bottle from the drying rack and found the can of formula. “How much do I put in?”
I talked him through how to make the bottle. He measured everything to a T and carefully added the formula and water to the bottle one-handed while he cradled a crying Jane.
“Shhh, baby girl. You’re okay. Food is on its way. Full bellies make for happy babies.”
I finished dinner while Wyatt fed Jane and rocked her to sleep.
“Why don’t you make a plate. I’ll just put her down for a nap,” I told him, taking a sleeping Jane from him. It felt like this was the first time I’d held her since Wyatt finished working earlier. He was definitely a baby hog, which honestly was kind of hot. But I missed my baby snuggles. I kissed the top of her head and laid her down in the bassinet attached to the portable crib.
After we finished dinner, I started to clean off the table. Wyatt pulled the plates from my hand, grabbed me by the shoulder, and spun me around.
“Go sit. Relax. I’ve got this.”
