Page 88 of Three Months Yesterday

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“It broke,” he whispers, a tear running down his cheek.

“It didn’t break. They’re meant to come unfolded, see?” I gently take the flower from him and unfold it the rest of the way, my eyes catching on a set of words.

It’s Beckett’s handwriting. Small, neat letters I almost miss because I’m so focused on Jackson’s tears. But there they are. A little note hidden inside an origami flower.

Just so you know, I’m grateful for this. All these little moments.

It’s such a Beckett thing to do. Leave me hidden notes and say nothing about it. Patiently waiting for me to find them, or not.

I stare at the note, my mind spinning. If this one has writing, it’s likely they all do. Every single flower. Another note I never read.

“Aunt Maddie?” Jackson’s voice pulls me from the note in my hands. “Are you mad?”

I look at his red, worried eyes and pull him into a hug. “Not even a little bit. You know what? I think that flower was always supposed to be open.”

He pulls back, confused. “It was?”

“It was. It had a little secret inside, and you found it.” I smile and smooth his hair back. “Thanks for finding it.”

He considers this for a moment and a small smile appears. “Like a treasure?”

“Exactly like a treasure.”

I smooth the note carefully and set it aside. The rest of the flowers are still on the table and my fingers itch to open every single one, but Jackson’s watching me and the muffins aren’t going to make themselves. My curiosity will just have to wait.

“Okay, mister. You ready to bake?”

His face transforms and he wipes the last remnants of tears from his eyes. “Yes!”

One messy kitchen later, we’ve finished mixing the muffins and I’m slipping the first tray in the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” I tell him. “Why don’t you pick a show to watch while we wait.”

He groans, but makes his way to the living room. I hear the TV click on and the theme song to his favorite show starts a few moments later.

I’m cleaning up our mess ten minutes later when I hear it. A scratching noise coming from the front door.

I pause—hands wet—and listen. There it is again. A faint dragging sound, like something brushing against wood.

I dry my hands on a dish towel and head toward the front door, but only make it halfway when Jackson’s voice stops me. “Aunt Maddie? Can I have some milk?”

I hesitate, glancing toward the door, but the scratching’s stopped. Maybe it was a branch or the wind.

“One sec, buddy.”

I grab a cup, pour the milk, and take it to Jackson who’s already absorbed in his show. He takes it with both hands and a quiet “thank you” without looking away from the screen.

My gaze moves back to the door just as headlights sweep across the front window. I recognize the shape before it even parks.

Opening the front door, I stand in the frame watching Aiden climb out of his cruiser. He lifts a hand in greeting, walking up the path with that easy, unhurried stride that’s so uniquely him.

“Hey,” he says as he pulls me into his side, a one-armed, solid hug. “Got off early and thought I’d come pick up the little man. Give you back a little of your afternoon.”

“You’ll have to wait. We just put the muffins in the oven.”

He pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Muffins?”