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I even managed to relax, as much as I could after the abandoned-baby-slash-Zach-is-alive thing, in the familiar spare room I used when I stayed. India, one of Jax’s daughters, had made a sign for me, coloring in a print Jax had made sayingArlo’s room. His other daughter, Iris, had added glitter, which flaked off in tiny pieces every time I opened and closed the door. They knew I stayed, but I never did when they were here as well, going home as soon as Friday night dinner was done. What Jax’s ex thought of his employee using the spare room I didn’t know, but we did it as friends, and friends alone.
Shame, but that was the way it had always been.
At some point, I woke with a start, pale moonlight seeped through a familiar gap in the drapes, casting dim shadows across the room, and my phone showed it was two a.m. I hadn’t fallen asleep until one, so yay for little sleep. I fixed my gaze on the ceiling, the events of the past day replaying in my mind like a broken record—signing off on the kitchen, on a high, the big date reveal in the hope Jax would sweep me into his arms, the dramatic arrival of Charlie and the note.
I’d even agreed to that stupid date with Wilton, who wasn’t pissed I’d cancelled and said he had a backup guy to ask.
A backup, fuck’s sake.
My life had always been about responsibilities. Ever since my parents passed away when I was only nineteen and I’d chosen to raise my two younger brothers, I’d carried out the roles of caregiver and provider—working a heap of jobs at first, keeping the family together—and hadn’t regretted a single day. But as the years had gone by, my responsibilities had shifted from my little brothers. I wasn’t needed by Trace, who was in his final year at U-Dub in Seattle majoring in Actuarial Science, or Sutton, who’d left in the summer, heading to Illinois State on a partial football scholarship. That left me alone. The Marshall family home was emptier than ever with them gone. I’d heard people describe silence as deafening, and I’d never understood it until now, when loneliness had begun to creep into everything I did. It was that solitude that meant I stayed so often at Jax’s place, wanting friendship and love.
No wait, not love… I wasn’t in love with Jax. Right?
I more than liked him and hoped that hemore than likedme back.
“Now I’m lying to myself,” I muttered. “Idiot.”
The first day I’d met Jax, he’d stolen my breath, and over the three years we’d worked together, he’d stolen my heart as well. He had no idea I wanted him, or that every time he talked to me, or we met each other’s gaze, a part of my heart had to expand a tiny bit more to contain all the extra love I felt.
I was a freaking idiot. Clueless.
I wanted what my parents had had—that sense of forever, a feeling of linked hearts that could never be torn apart. I might have been looking at what they’d had through rose-tinted glasses, but they’d lived their love for their children to see, and they’d died together, and in my head, they’d never be parted.
And that was the problem—I didn’t need my counselor to explain that I had unrealistic expectations of the kind of love out there for me. I knew that, and that I was pushing those feelings onto Jax. Not that I saw a counselor anymore, that was from a long time ago when I’d left college at nineteen and become dad to Trace, who was only eleven, and Sutton, only eight.
Something had shifted today, before the baby-on-the-doorstep thing when Jax said I shouldn’t settle for the wrong kind of date. I’d been hopeful he’d turn around and ask me out instead, despite the fact that, as far as he was concerned, we were good friends. I was the quiet, gentle, somewhat unsure, Arlo Marshall, who was a little soft in the middle and prematurely gray, and since my brothers had left for college, ever so slightly lost and rootless. Whereas, Jax was focused on his girls, both of whom I loved to bits, his company, and finding his twin.
Still, it wasn’t pining for Jax keeping me awake now—I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Jax needed me. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed myself up, stretching tall and pulling a T-shirt on over my jersey boxers. The soft carpet muffled my footsteps as I padded down the hallway and headed downstairs, hesitating for a moment outside the living room door before pushing it open.
And there, bathed in the gentle glow of a dimmed table light, was a sight that tugged at my heartstrings. Jax on the couch, his long hair loose and curling around his face, touching his shoulders, cradling Charlie, feeding him a bottle. Charlie’s eyes were closed, but his tiny fingers flexed in Jax’s hair as he fed, and my damn stupid eyes got all teary.
Fuck’s sake.
Was I really getting emotional because Jax looked at peace? What was that even about? My head told me to get dressed and leave before I did or said something stupid, but my heart was in Jax’s hands, as it had been since the day we met. There was no competition, so I stayed where I was.
“Hey, you,” Jax whispered, then covered a yawn with his hand before offering me a tired smile. “Did we wake you?”
Act natural. Crack a joke. Smile. It’s okay.
I shook my head. “Nope. Mind if I join the two-a.m. party?”
Jax chuckled, then glanced at the second sofa, which held the temporary crib and a pile of blankets, before wriggling along to one side of the other sofa he’d taken without disturbing Charlie, so there was room for me to sit. I didn’t tell him that I’d move the crib and blankets—in fact I’d take anything I got—and I eased down onto the couch beside him, our thighs brushing. I tried to ignore the warmth of Jax’s bare leg against mine and, instead, focused on Charlie’s eyes as they opened, stared, and then closed again. He had the longest lashes fanning his rounded cheeks, just the same as his uncle’s, only Jax’s face was chiseled and dusted with a day’s growth of beard that would feel wonderful if I touched it…
Stop thinking about him.
Jax moved his legs to rock his nephew, bumping mine, and I should’ve moved. But I didn’t.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he began. “So, I was lying in bed, watching Charlie as I used to do the girls, and he woke up, so I was just there straight away, you know? He didn’t even have to cry.”
“And he’s drinking it all?” I knew that was a thing people asked when it came to babies, and I gestured at the near empty bottle Charlie was nursing.
“Yeah. And I’ve been talking to him about constructing a summer house, but I’m pretty sure he was just tolerating me, and you’re the only one other than me in the house who’d understand how we use Pythagorean theory in construction.”
I stifled a laugh. “You’re giving a baby a speech about angles?”
Jax shrugged and sent me a sheepish glance. “He’s a captive audience.”
I couldn’t help but laugh then, and I settled back on the sofa, forcing myself into the corner so no part of my body touched Jax. If he noticed that I’d squeezed myself away, he didn’t say anything or ask me awkward questions about why I was trying to fold my big body into a tiny corner. It occurred to me that I reallyshouldhave taken a seat on the other sofa, but then, I wouldn’t be close enough to see Charlie properly, and Jaxhadmoved so there was space for me to sit next to him, right?
