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ChapterOne
Sage
"Do you have everything?"
Jackson lifts his arm with the small backpack that Rapid bought for him for their weekend camping trip. My son rolls his eyes at me and tips his head to one side in exasperation.
"You packed your river shoes?" I ask.
"Mom! I got everything, okay?"
"Sunscreen? Bug spray? Did you remember your toothbrush?"
My eight-year-old son huffs at me impatiently but he sets the pack down and opens it up so I can go through the check-list myself.
"Rapid said if I forget something, he'll have spares," Jackson says, sounding for all the world like I'm being entirely unreasonable.
"He's not going to have spare underwear in your size." I think I'm making sense; my son begs to differ.
"Mom." Jackson pulls the backpack from me and refastens the zippers and straps. "It's aguys'weekend."
"So, you don't need underwear?"
He rolls his eyes at me again. Obviously, I just don't understand what it means to have a"guys' "weekend.
Rapid Jones has been such a great influence on Jackson; helping with school projects and spending the summer teaching him the basics of canoeing and kayaking, but this is the first time I've agreed to let Rapid take Jax for a whole weekend and it's true that I might be a tad extra with the mothering.
A knock on the door to the private entrance of our house that connects to the part of the building that serves as a small medical clinic here in Moonshine Ridge has Jackson grabbing the little pack and hoisting it onto his slim shoulders.
He's been practicing ever since Rapid brought it over a few weeks ago.
I didn't even know they made backpacks like that for kids. It's not a regular backpack with superheroes printed on it for hauling books and cold lunches to school, it's an honest-to-gosh backpacking pack. The kind designed for carrying life-sustaining gear on multi-day hikes into the wilderness.
Jax loves it.
Jax loves Rapid.
"Hey Rapid!" Jackson pulls the door open with more force than necessary then immediately calms to a guy-appropriate coolness. He exchanges an elaborate, multi-step handshake with the man standing on our front porch while I stand here just waiting till my ovaries stop exploding.
"Hey man, you got everything?"
The deep rumble of Rapid's voice sends a few more sparks through the ovaries and settles as a pool of warmth between my legs.
Jackson twists his body to show off the backpack. "Check!" he assures the older man.
"Why don't you go throw your pack in the truck while I talk to your mom?"
With a salute, my son pushes past Rapid's legs and darts out to the lifted four by four diesel sitting behind my little hatchback in the driveway.
"Did he really get it all?" Rapid's voice morphs from the child-appropriate bro tone he uses with Jax to that deep purr he uses with me. The one that has me pressing my thighs together to relieve the pressure that always builds when his attention is on me and me alone.
"I think so," I answer, willing my body to calm in his presence so I can adapt thejust Jackson's momdemeanor that I've determined is the safest way to interact with this man. After all, Rapid has taken my son under his wing and given him the outlet for all that eight-year-old boy energy he needs as well as the male role model he's been lacking, but he's never indicated that he sees me as anything other thanjust Jackson's momand the doctor in residence for the sleepy mountain community.
"He wouldn't let me go through everything," I say, "but I'm pretty sure he has the basics at least. If he forgot something I can always--"
Rapid flashes a rare grin. It's the kind that's genetically predisposed to dropping panties and the effect is only intensified considering how rarely he uses it.
His hand raises in the air and waves away my words.
