“We just ate breakfast before stopping at the Jeffersons’.”
“Yeah, like two hours ago. I know you’re old and probably already hit your prime and all you have to look forward to in the future is anal beads, but I am a growing boy, Jax! I need all the carbohydrates I can take in.”
I turned the key in the ignition. “We’ll eat lunch during our break at the office. I already packed food for us.”
Connor grimaced in disgust. “Please don’t make me eat another peanut butter and jelly sandwich and your disgusting protein shake. I’m so sick of that.”
“It’s packed with protein, and it will help you build muscle.”
“You know what else would help me? A number nine from McDonald’s.”
I smirked. “You can spend your paycheck on that stuff during your own time, but when working with me, you get the sandwich and a protein shake.”
“With grass in it.”
“It’s not grass. It’s kale.”
“I don’t mean to take away your man card, Jax, but adding kale to your protein shakes makes you look a lot like those chicks who wear Ugg boots and are addicted to Starbucks and Target.”
“Are you calling me a basic bitch?”
He parted his lips to reply but paused, arching an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me to watch my language if I call you a basic bitch?”
“Yes.”
“Well then stop being a basic bitch and eating kale. Next thing I know, you’ll be Instagramming avocado toast while drinking kombucha.”
“What’s kombucha?”
“Oh, thank God.” Connor sighed and wiped his hand across his forehead. “You still have your balls.”
“Don’t say balls,” I ordered, pointing a stern finger his way. “And don’t say basic bitch.”
He sat back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head, propping his shoes up on my dashboard before I quickly knocked them down.
“Okay, I won’t say basic bitch. Anyway, can we take a minute to talk about the hotness that is the Jefferson’s new neighbor?” he asked.
“No.”
“Come on, Jax. You had to have noticed. She’s smokin’ hot! And did you see her eyes? She has the most stunning eyes I’ve ever seen. They were like…caramel. Did you see, Jax? Did you see her eyes?”
“Yes, Connor.” I saw her eyes, and he was right—they were damn beautiful, but that had nothing to do with me, and it definitely wasn’t any of my business…which was why it confused me that the thought of her eyes weighed heavily on my mind.
The day of plumbing tasks continued, and Connor didn’t stop talking the whole time. I swore that kid talked about nothing at all twenty-four hours a day. I’d become pretty good at tuning him out because half the shit that came out of his mouth was just teenage gibberish. Maybe that was why I liked him, though—because he was nothing like me. He was warm, inviting—and a complete idiot, yes, but still, I liked having the kid around. Of course I’d never tell him that because he’d never let me live it down.
As we pulled up to his house at the end of the evening, Connor’s color drained a little as he glanced toward his home. The bright, chatty kid lost all of his light in an instant as he looked into the house and saw his mother walking around inside.
It was only the two of them, and his mother was currently fighting cancer, which was extremely hard on them both. I knew Connor worked as hard as he did because he wanted to be able to take care of his mother. He had a heart of gold, and she was lucky to have him.
I lowered my head as my hands stayed gripped on the steering wheel. “If you guys need anything,” I offered, feeling awful for the poor kid. I wished I could take away his struggles.
He shook his head. “Nah. We’re good. We’re getting through it. Tonight, I’m going to watch a Disney movie with her to try to up her spirits. She loves that Disney stuff.” He always tried to act like the cancer wasn’t getting to him, but I knew better than to believe that.
It wasn’t fair that Connor was being forced to grow up faster than he deserved.
“Text me if you need anything,” I said.
“Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully the day involves more anal beads,” he joked, but the paleness to his face was still there as he tried to hide his hurting with humor.
“Doubtful.”
“Night, Jax.” He hopped out of the truck and dashed toward his front steps. I waited until I was certain he’d made it into his house.
Instead of heading home like I wanted to, I went to the one place I wished I didn’t need to go to see the one person I wished I knew how to get over. I went straight to the nursing home to see my father.
I knew he would probably be sleeping when I arrived. He’d been sleeping a majority of the days lately as his body fought to either preserve his life or move him closer to death—I wasn’t certain.
All I knew was that ever since he ended up in the nursing home, I was there every night, sitting at his bedside while he was in his deep slumber.
I noticed a bike parked outside the nursing home, and I knew it belonged to Amanda, one of Dad’s caregivers who just so happened to be my ex-girlfriend.
I walked into the center and noticed her sitting at the reception desk, reading a novel. She was always reading some book about knights in shining armor saving the day.
I figured it was because of those books that I’d never lived up to what she wanted me to be. Even when I tried to be fully into our relationship, I always knew deep down that something was missing. Passion? A deeper connection?
Who knew.
Maybe I was too fucked up from my past traumas to know how to love someone right. All I really knew was after two years of dating and no engagement, she grew tired of it all. When she mentioned us having a baby and skipping over the marriage step, I knew it was time to cut the cord.
“Hey,” I said, nodding in her direction. She hadn’t even noticed me walk in. When her eyes were locked on those pages, she was distant from the rest of the world, fully immersed in the words on the page unless a patient needed her help.
She shut the book and gave me a half-smile. “Hey.”
“How’s he’s doing?”
“You know, same ole, same ole.” She stood from her chair and hugged her book to her chest. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and she looked exhausted. I had a feeling her job wasn’t the easiest to perform.
It was clear that Dad didn’t have much time left, and to be honest, I wasn’t certain how to feel about it all. My father wasn’t a good man. He was cruel to anyone and everyone he came into contact with.
A few glances around my house demonstrated what my father had been like toward me when I was growing up. He’d put enough holes in the walls from when his drunken rage emerged through his fists. When those fists hadn’t connected with walls, there was a good chance they’d collided with my face. I couldn’t count on both hands the number of times he’d beat me in every single room of that house for the most mundane things.
If the washer didn’t finish before the evening news—beating.
If strangers were found wandering on our property—beating.