Page 66 of Jasper
When we get back to the clubhouse, I’m getting pretty tired. No one says a word as we walk through the front doors with that gigantic bear. A few glances get tossed our way, but no one comments. Jasper gives everyone a look that shuts down whatever joke someone might’ve been thinking of making.
It’s dinner time, so we eat and then head upstairs to find all the baby gear sitting outside the door to his suite.
Jasper unlocks the door and begins carrying our stuff into his suite. He starts unboxing while I fall down on the sofa exhausted. He’s got his sleeves pushed up and his jaw set. I recognize this look. It’s an ‘I’m doing an important job and am determined to do it right’ expression.
I lean back on my folded arm and watch the Jasper show. It’s getting to be one of my favorites.
He opens the instruction manual, flips through it once, then tosses it aside and gets to work with an Allen wrench. It doesn’t take long for him to put the bassinet together. He’s double-checking the stability and tinkering with the screws.
“This’ll be his first bed,” I say quietly. “The first place he lays his little head.”
Jasper doesn’t look up. “Then it better be solid.”
Once he’s certain the bassinet’s stable, Jasper steps back with a satisfied expression on his face. It’s sturdy with zero wobble and no missed bolts.
I start sorting through the bags while he folds the bassinet box flat and stacks it near the door. The onesies get organized into neat little piles on the dresser. Socks go into a shallow drawer he cleared out last week. I run my fingers over the edge of the new changing pad, still in plastic, and imagine what it’ll be like to use it. To see our son there, tiny, loud, and hopefully smiling up at us.
Jasper’s quiet as he works beside me, opening packages, stripping tags, tossing wrapping into a trash bag. There’ssomething focused in his movements, but it’s not annoyed. It’s the same energy he brings to fixing a bike.
I unfold a swaddle printed with tiny black and gray skulls. That was Jasper’s pick. I place the softer, pale ones I chose next to it. The contrast makes me smile.
“You’ve got a theme going here,” I point out playfully.
He shrugs. “Didn’t want him growing up thinkin’ he’s fragile.”
“He’s going to be a baby for a nice long while.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be tough,” Jasper shoots back.
I smile, glad to be getting to know him better, and fold another bodysuit. He stays quiet for a minute longer, then walks into the closet. I hear a drawer slide open, some shuffling, then the click of a box lid. When he steps back into the room, he’s holding something behind his back.
“What is that?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks towards me, then pulls it out and lays it on the sofa between us.
It’s a baby-sized black t-shirt.
The words printed across the front are simple, bold, and badass, especially for a baby, ‘Badass Biker in Training’.
The cotton’s soft. It looks brand new, but the tag has yellowed slightly with time.
I look up at him. He’s not smiling, but there’s something in his eyes. Something quieter than usual.
“Onyx gave it to me a few years ago,” he says. “Said it was a joke. Back then, I didn’t know what the hell I’d do with it. Thought I’d toss it. Kept it anyway.”
I run my thumb over the lettering. “Is this what started you wanting a family of your own?” I ask.
He nods, his gaze fixed on the shirt.
“I didn’t know I wanted any of this,” he says. “Not until that damn shirt showed up. And then I started thinking… maybe I did want more than club life. Maybe I wanted a kid who’d ride a tricycle down this hallway, who’d grow up to be the right kind of hard. Wanted a reason to build something that’d last longer than me, a legacy.”
The atmosphere feels more serious. I fold the shirt carefully and place it on top of the pile, front and center.
“You got your family now,” I say.
His hand finds the small of my back and he tugs me into a hug. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”
We finish the rest slowly, folding blankets, stacking diapers, rearranging things that don’t need rearranging. It’s not about how much we have. It’s about the act of placing them, choosing where they go, carving out a place in the world for someone who hasn’t taken his first breath yet.
