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"I'm just saying good night to Rapid," I call back to the sleepy boy standing in the open door of the house. "I'll be right in."
"Night Rapid!" Jackson calls out to us. "Thanks for taking me camping."
"Any time, buddy," Rapid answers him. His voice still rough from arousal, he clears his throat and tells Jackson good night again and to have fun at the beach in a few days.
"Right," I nod, understanding, as Rapid gives me a stern glare that says both"I told you so"and"I wasn't finished yet"at the same time. "Okay, I'll see you in a few days then," I add, stepping back to a safe distance as he climbs into the cab.
"Damn straight you will," he says as he slips the truck in gear and backs out of the driveway.
* * *
Rapid
Pulling up to the doc's house, I lift the toolbox and the bag of parts out of the bed before knocking on her door.
I know I told her I'd be back after Jackson's dad came to get him but it's been bugging me that her landlord hasn't sent maintenance up to repair that dishwasher.
And maybe I couldn't wait two more days to see her.
"Hey Rapid!" Jackson's voice greets me in tandem with the squeak of the door opening. I make a mental note to oil those hinges while I have the tool kit here.
"Hey bud," I hand the bag of parts I picked up from the hardware store to him as he leads me back into the house. "Your mom around?"
"She's working," he tells me, looking inside the bag and scrunching up his nose at the assortment of washers and plumber's tape inside. "What's all this?"
"I thought I'd fix the dishwasher for you guys."
Setting down my toolbox, I strip off my flannel shirt and drape it on the back of a kitchen chair before crawling under the sink to shut off the water valves and unplug the dishwasher.
"Cool. I hate doing dishes by hand," Jackson tells me.
I can't help but chuckle. I grew up in a house where my brothers and I took turnsbeingthe dishwasher, Jackson thinks doing dishes means stacking the machine.
"So, are you excited about seeing your dad?" I ask as I investigate the source of the problem. When I'm met with silence I turn and look back to see Jackson standing nearby, working his lower lip in a thoughtful pout.
"What's wrong, bud?"
His thin shoulders lift and drop and he makes a face that's supposed to say,"no big deal,”but looks a lot like disappointment.
"Dad can't come," he tells me. "He said he has to work or something."
I'm glad I'm still part-way under the sink so he can't see the anger boiling inside me. Everything I know about Sage's ex tells me he's a loser that doesn't deserve a kid like Jax.
If you ask me, any man who breaks this many promises to his kid doesn't deserve kids at all.
"I'm sorry, man," I fight to keep the anger out of my face and give Jax a sympathetic look. "I know you were really looking forward to seeing him this week."
This time when Jackson shrugs there's no trace of covering up his real feelings.
"Eh, I don't really care about seeing my dad," he tells me honestly, "but I was really looking forward to going to the beach. I've never seen the ocean."
Even though I shouldn't be, I'm relieved to hear it.
"You don't miss your dad?"
"Not really," Jackson sits on the kitchen floor next to where I'm sprawled out under the sink and I point toward the toolbox and ask him to hand me another wrench.
"I talk to him on the phone sometimes, but I haven't seen him since we moved here," Jackson volunteers, handing me the wrench I asked for.
