I glance down at the bag in my hand I’d almost forgotten about. While I head off to find Jacob, I breathe in the crisp evening air, attempting to get my sniffles under control.
I walk past the darts and bobbing duck games that line what’s normally Main Street until I find Jacob laughing with another boy around the same height as him. “Hi, Luke.”
“Hi, Miss Clara.”
Luke is pulled back by a man with clear blue eyes—Grayson, his father. His brown hair is mussed mostly to one side like he’s been pulling at it all afternoon, and I wonder if he has.
Grayson’s voice is deep when he says, “They didn’t have any more burgers, but I got you guys some corn dogs.” He notices me then and gives me a small, shy smile. “Hey, Clara. Having fun?”
“Of course. Guess you guys had a blast.” I wipe the dirt off Jacob’s cheek. Where did that come from?
“We did.” He jumps away from my touch. “We rode all the rides, went through the maze of hay bales, and played games. I almost won a stuffed frog, Mom.”
I laugh along with him and Luke, whose smile matches his dad’s, although it’s more lopsided. “It sounds like you’re ready to go, then.” I rustle Jacob’s hair. He’s probably going to pass out during the short drive to our house. I offer to pay for Jacob’s corn dog, but Grayson waves me off. “Thanks again for watching him.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll return the favor next time.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” He smiles again, then leads Luke past us. Behind me, Grayson heads in the direction of a guy who looks like a younger version of him, and I’m certain it’s his brother Grady.
Being from Sunnyville means you know the Malone boys.
The handsome brothers who were never supposed to settle down, but they’re now hitched, except for Grayson. But he’s engaged to Sidney, so that counts.
The broken hearts their marriages must’ve caused around these parts. I’m sure women were lined up for their chance at those boys like they were auditioning for The Bachelor.
“Didn’t we park on the other side?” Jacob asks, then takes a big bite of his corn dog.
“Yes, but Dax is going to take us home since Mommy’s tired.”
“Don’t call yourself Mommy.”
I quirk an eyebrow as we walk side-by-side. “Excuse me?”
“I’m ten. You’re just Mom now.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize how old you’ve gotten.”
We approach the large field they’ve turned into a parking lot and walk down the row of cars until we find Dax leaning against his truck. In one hand, he holds a brown paper bag with dark blotches that I assume are from the funnel cake’s grease. He types on his phone with his free hand, and the light screen reflects off him, illuminating his frown.
But he smiles when he sees us, turning his phone off. They high-five each other and scramble into the truck like the grass is on fire.
Following their lead, I get in the passenger side and ask Dax in a hushed tone so Jacob doesn’t overhear, “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I was just texting Staci about a patient of hers from earlier today.”
“Dr. Pearson to the rescue.”
“Damn straight.” He winks at me, holding my stare for a beat, and adjusts his mirror. “Ready, big guy?”
The whole drive, I think of Dax’s expression.
The look he gave me.
I can usually read him, but I can’t quite decipher that look.
Whatever it is, it stirs something inside me that I don’t recognize, and that too gives me pause.
Five
Dax
“You read him Harry Potter before bed?”
Her lips twist like she has a secret, her coy expression making her seem less tense.
I lean down to Jacob, whose hand is on his bedroom door. “You like Harry Potter, big guy?”
“Yes. With Hermione, Harry, and Ron. I’m in Slytherin.”
“I am too.” I high-five him, then peek up at Clara, who has her mouth covered with one hand like she’s trying to hold in a laugh. “Did you know I introduced your mom to Harry Potter?”
“Really?”
“Yes. And she didn’t like it at first, but apparently, she’s been holding out on me.”
She finally lets her laughter loose, and the sound vibrates through my chest, shaking my heart awake.
“Mom,” Jacob draws out. “You didn’t like it?”
“I did, honey. But I had to mess with Uncle Dax a little.” She winks at him.
As she ushers him inside his room, I lean down, her hair tickling my nose, and whisper, “This isn’t over.”
I set the funnel cake on the coffee table, then grab two wineglasses from the kitchen and pour Pinot Grigio into one and Cabernet in the other. She has an endless supply now that she’s moved back here. Her stepdad’s vineyard will keep her—and subsequently, me—well stocked. Not that I drink heavily, but it’s nice to have a few bottles around when I want a glass.
Leaning on the doorframe, sipping on my smoky red, which tastes of a cigar box, I watch Clara and Jacob. She lies next to him on the bed above the covers. He gets excited over the part they’re on in the story. From what I can tell, they’re about halfway through one, but I can’t see the cover from this angle.
She continues reading as Jacob’s eyes grow heavy. Before long, his soft snores mix with Clara’s soothing tone. As I move to the couch, my back to the open door, I have a sense of déjà vu.
Mitch stares at me from the picture on the coffee table. Like he’s watching my every move.
I’ve been here before.
Many times.
Not in this house, but this place, watching her and her family from the outside.
I’ve been “Uncle Dax” for the last ten years.
And while I love that I’m a big part of their lives, there’s been a large void in mine.
“Are you going to drink all that wine by yourself, or may I have a glass?”
I shake in my spot, not having heard her come out. Glancing down, I realize I’m still holding her glass and hand it to her. “No, no. This one’s for you. You know I’m not much of a drinker to begin with, but I especially won’t drink this.”
“This isn’t even that sweet.” An amused grin spreads across her face—the most beautiful sight. Like the sun rising in the morning, brushing away the darkness. “About Harry Potter…”
“I cannot believe you gave me so much shit about being a fan, and now, here we are.”
“I never gave you shit.”
“You did.” I toss my free hand up with mock exasperation, loving this playful side of her. I want to bottle it up and open it every time I see her tears form. “Then you’d drag me to Friends trivia nights whenever I came to visit under the pretense that we were going to Harry Potter.”
She covers her face with one hand as the wine swishes in the glass in her other. “You fell for it every time.”
I smile, not wanting to tell her why I “fell for it every time.” That it was her I fell for every time, even though Mitch usually sat on the other side of her during trivia nights.