I put a show on for her and make a mental note to add more books to our shopping cart so she doesn’t become one of those kids who are constantly glued to a screen. I love books and I want her to love them, too.
I try to go on with my day, but guilt gnaws at me, dragging me down into a pit of shame. Jett is at work today, and he never checks his deleted emails. He’ll never know.
But I know.
And you know what? Deleting his emails won’t change anything. If Jett loves racing again so much that he wants to go back to a professional team, there’s nothing I can do to stop him. The motocross community is pretty small…what if someone from that nonprofit reaches out to him another way? And he finds out I deleted his email? I can’t live with that on my conscience.
With a sigh, I open the laptop again and retrieve the deleted email. I mark it as unread, then I click back over to the Amazon tab, leaving his email the way I found it.
Chapter 20
Jett
After a long day of work I come home to the smell of lasagna in the oven. Damn, she even made her famous cheesy garlic bread that I love so freaking much I could eat my weight in that bread. I drop my keys on the counter, and wrap my arms around Keanna’s waist while she sprinkles parmesan cheese on the freshly sliced bread.
“This smells amazing, babe.”
”Thanks,” she says looking back and giving me a quick kiss. “I’ve been craving a good home cooked meal instead of takeout. That’s the one thing I miss about living at your parents’ house.”
I chuckle and take some of our brand new plates out of the cabinet to start setting the table. We’re finally slipping back into a good routine. You don’t realize how calming and peaceful a boring, regular day can be until you’ve been thrown out of it for weeks. I’m so grateful for everything we have and for the family we’ve built together.
Arko joins us at the dinner table. He sits right by Harper’s feet, watching with the intense discipline of a working dog. Only instead of sniffing out danger, he’s hoping she’ll drop a piece of food. To his extreme happiness, she drops an entire piece of bread. Arko inhales it before it hits the floor. He would have loved watching her eat when she was still in a highchair—food went flying everywhere but into her mouth.
After dinner, we settle on the couch to watch some TV and relax. Keanna always sits beside me, wedging her body against mine while scrolling on her phone or watching a show. I lean over and take my laptop off the coffee table. I’m not sure why, but she stiffens beside me.
”You okay?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”
Her body is so tangled up beside me, I worry I squished her or something.
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
I lift an eyebrow, but I don’t push it. I settle back into the couch with my laptop and she looks back at her phone, just slightly further away from me than she was a few minutes ago.
I check my emails. Every company I’ve ever purchased from has sent annoying sales emails that I delete unread. A skim through a couple tracking emails from stuff I’ve bought for the house, and then see an email from a nonprofit. They want me to race for them next weekend.
I should be nice and reply to the email, but part of me wants to delete it and pretend I never saw it. I don’t know these people so it’s not like they’re in my social circle, and I appreciate being considered for stuff like this, but it’s just too much. I’ve had my fill of traveling around the country for now.
I type out a quick thanks but no thanks type of reply and hit send. Then I read up on some motocross websites and check out one of my favorite small business YouTube creators. He gives great advice for marketing that’s designed for business owners like we are. We don’t sell stuff online. Our customers have to be local enough to physically show up at our location and that’s a lot different when it comes to marketing than if you were selling T-shirts online or something.
Beside me, Keanna shifts, and fidgets, and something is totally up with her.
I close my laptop. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
”Nothing.”
”Yeah, right. That was the fastest, most high pitched reply ever.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Something is bothering you. What is it?”
She chews on her thumbnail, which means she’s definitely stewing over whatever is bothering her. She hates chewing on her nails.
“I…accidently saw your email earlier.”
I shrug. “So?”
”So…I saw that email asking you to race next weekend.”
”Okay?”
”And I’m guessing you just replied to them, so I want to know what you said.”
