He’s been like this long before becoming a doctor.
It’s been… since his parents died. He’s never really had anyone to talk to about his grief. His pain.
His loss.
Not like I have. I’ve had strong, supportive parents for over thirty years. A best friend, Melanie, who listened when all I needed was silence. Family, friends, coworkers. From the day of Mitch’s diagnosis, I had a dependable and unfailing support system. I was able to grieve out loud, cushioned by those around me.
But Dax—he’s so contained.
Always giving.
Always hiding.
I grab one cup of coffee he holds out. “Thanks for the coffee. I have to relieve my mom, anyway, then go with Jacob to get new sneakers. His are worn out.”
We walk together toward his front door. I go to open it, but he stops me with his hand on mine. “I don’t know exactly how late I’ll be today. There are a few other errands I need to run and laundry to do.” He rolls his eyes, then softens his expression. “But I want to come over and talk.”
“I’d like that.” My lips form a thin line.
“Please don’t overthink it until I get a chance to speak my piece.” He chuckles.
“Promise.”
On my drive home, the trees and houses are a blur. I barely register the soft glow cast on the quiet neighborhood from the early morning sun, or the butterflies in my stomach. After I put my car in park in my driveway, I dial Melanie.
“Dax is coming over later,” I tell her.
“That’s what you called me first thing in the morning about?” I can almost hear her eye roll through the phone. Dax is the main thing we’ve talked about for days.
“Yes. He wants to talk about what this means for us.” I rest my head on my steering wheel.
“Let me guess. He’s doing that because you want him to.”
“No.” I pause. “It was his suggestion.”
“Because he knows you. He knows you better than my father knows how to tie a knot,” she says in her Southern accent, making me giggle. She sighs. “Don’t be hard on him, and more importantly, don’t be hard on yourself. You’re happy, and I know that’s scary. But you deserve this after all you’ve been through.”
Leaning my head back against my seat, I exhale. “Is it too soon, though?”
“I thought you said you were going to revel. What’s this back and forth you’re doing?”
“Sometimes, I regret telling you everything,” I joke.
“We wouldn’t be best friends if we didn’t tell each other everything.”
“You’re right. About everything.”
There’s a crash on her end, then shuffling. “Tyson!” she screeches to her son. “Clara, I’m sorry, honey. I have to go.”
Click.
I turn my phone off, grab my purse, and go inside. The smell of bacon hits me in the stomach, making it growl. I follow the smell and music to the kitchen, where my mom sways by the stove, flipping crackling bacon over in a skillet. Jacob grabs the orange juice from the refrigerator and pours a glass.
“Look at you two morning birds.” I smile.
“Hi, Mom.” Jacob rushes to give me a hug, and I bend down to squeeze him.
“Good morning, dear.” My mom kisses me on the cheek, and I join the breakfast fun.
“What did you two do last night?” I ask.
“Grandma and I watched The Avengers. She’d never seen it before. Do you believe that?” Jacob’s mouth hangs open.
“Blasphemy,” I joke.
“Next time, we’re watching Age of Ultron.” My mom sets a plate of bacon on the counter next to the scrambled eggs and asks Jacob, “Isn’t that right?”
He nods, and I help set the table so we can eat. By the time we’re finished eating, I wave my mom off from doing the dishes. “I’ll do them. You have to go to work, don’t you?”
“Yes, but you have work to do too. Jacob said you’re going shopping.”
“The stores don’t even open for another few hours. I think I can manage the dishes between now and then.” I smile, then thank her for watching Jacob and entertaining him.
I spend the rest of the day smiling, feeling like I’m attached to a hot air balloon as I float from store to store with Jacob.
It’s only been a few hours, and I don’t know how my conversation with Dax will go, but I do know I miss him already. I place my hand over my chest and feel my heart thundering underneath.
That’s all I need to know.
Twenty-Six
Clara
Once I drop Jacob off at school the next morning, I head to the office, where the next issue is being finalized.
Dax didn’t come over last night since he had so much to do. Plus, my dad surprised us with a visit, anyway, so we had dinner with him. Jacob got to show off his new shoes too.
Dax and I talked on the phone, though, sharing stories of the day until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I’ve been sleeping more easily. The kind of restful sleep that you wake up with drool on your face from, and it’s because of Dax. He’s made me feel like myself again.
I have such a huge smile on my face when I get off the elevator at work, the rest of the office asks me what my secret is.
Instead of being honest and telling them I’m sleeping with the sexiest man alive, I shrug coyly.
They don’t buy it. Even Sidney comes by my desk to ask what’s up, but I continue being vague.
Once I’m settled into my cubicle, the morning is a blur as I get into a smooth groove. I’m so focused on the pictures I’m editing that I don’t realize it’s already mid-afternoon. I have to pick Jacob up, and I all but bounce to my car, especially when I read the new message from Dax.
Dax: Can’t stop thinking about you.
If I wasn’t already smiling at just the sight of his name popping up, I’m absolutely giddy now.
Clutching my phone to my chest, I sigh like a cartoon character, heart eyes and all. I send him a quick text in response and head to Jacob’s school.
“How was school today?” I ask once he shuts the car door.
“Fine.” He clicks his seatbelt and peers out the window, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I watch him in the rearview mirror, dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
“They said it’s supposed to rain all weekend.”
I pause, waiting for him to go on, but when he remains silent, I ask, “And?”
“And I won’t get to play outside.”
“Is that all?” I crack a smile, turning onto our street.
“Yes. Luke was supposed to come over, so we could try the new light sabers Grandpa got me for my birthday. We won’t be able to play outside now.”
“So play inside. It’s going to be chilly outside, anyway.”
“You don’t like when we play inside and jump on the couch.”
“And you have to jump on the couch, why?”
He tilts his head like I should know the answer. “We have to. It’s like Hardcore Parkour.”
“What?”
He groans, shaking his head like the time I suggested he use my old VCR when the DVD player broke. Like I was such a disappointment to this century.