Page 30 of Nothing But It All
Finally, he comes to a rest facing me—a few inches closer than before. His scent drifts through the air, tempting me in some kind of dance that makes me rethink the possibility of this situation.
Jack sets Snaps down. Then he reaches out and plucks a lock of hair stuck to my neck. His fingertips dust my skin. They might as well be electrodes.
I gasp quietly, my arms breaking out in a flood of goose bumps. He notices. Of course he does. His only acknowledgment of my reaction is a slight smirk kissing his lips.
“We did this for twenty years, babe,” he says softly. “Pretty sure we can do it for fourteen days.”
Snaps barks.
Jack doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns to the door, the puppy at his heels.
“I’m not sleeping with that dog,” I say.That’s probably what this is. He wants me here to take care of the damn puppy.“And I’m not cleaning up after it either.”
Jack’s head shakes as he yells for the kids, leaving me standing in the middle of the yard.
This is going to be the longest fourteen days of my life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JACK
The cabin door screeches as it slams behind me.That needs some WD-40.
A warm breeze flows through the open kitchen window, across to the living room, and out of the curtains on the far wall. The air is hot and grossly humid, but the place needs a good airing out before we start the climate control. It’s wild to think that we didn’t have an air conditioner until five or six years ago. But the older we got, the hotter it seemed to get, and it turns out that we’re no longer cut out for Ohio’s hundred-degree temperatures without the ability to cool off.
Michael comes down the stairs, scooping up Snaps midstep. “Were you yelling for us?”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Well, she told me to tell you that she’s in the bathroom. So she’s in the bathroom.”
He stops at the bottom of the staircase. Despite his wariness of our conversation—and my reaction to their little stunt—the boy is happy. Relieved, almost.At home.
I put a hand on his shoulder and guide him toward the door. “Take a walk with me, son.”
“Oh, well, I was going to head down to the beach and see—”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hangs his head and follows me onto the porch.
I scan the yard for Lauren until I finally find her sitting in her car. She looks away moments before we make eye contact and pretends to dig around in her purse.
My chest tightens, squeezing so hard that actual discomfort—pain—settles in my ribs.
As much as the kids shouldn’t have done this, I’m grateful they did. It gives me two weeks to figure this out.Because I have to figure this out.
I’m not losing Lauren.
“Michael,” Lauren yells. “Come get Pops’s insulin if you’re heading over there, please.”
He jogs across the lawn and retrieves a small cooler from his mother. They exchange smiles, and a quick laugh, before Michael races back across the yard.
Lauren avoids my stare the entire time.
“I have to hand it to you, kid,” I say as we make our way toward Dad’s cabin. “I really didn’t see this coming.”
