by Winters, KB
The last thing my system needed was caffeine coursing through it, it would only add to my anxiety. I looked out the window and Jace was gone. I sighed and went back to scrubbing the already immaculate tabletops.
“Honey, everything all right?” Patrice asked.
I nodded, battling the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I plastered a smile on my face as I looked up at her. “Yup. Everything’s great.”
She scowled at me, her disbelief obvious, but continued sipping her steaming coffee and didn’t pick at me further. Something I was incredibly grateful for. I had somehow managed to keep it together at work and school, going through the motions as though nothing had changed, only letting myself break in the hours I spent tossing and turning in my bed, tangled up with Jace’s leather jacket that still faintly held his clean, masculine scent around the edges of the collar.
Hilda was the only one who knew the truth, who could see how wrecked I was on the inside, but even she had stopped trying to help, finally giving up on getting me to talk about it.
Time heals all wounds—that was the hope I clung to, anyway. With each passing day, I had to accept that I’d probably never get answers to all of my questions, the main one being what the hell had happened overseas, or wherever Jace had been, that had changed everything between us. What catastrophic event had managed to erase all of the plans and dreams we spent so much time building over email and video chats during his time away. I knew he had come home injured, his hand bore the scars of war, and whenever I’d seen him out, he walked stiff, like a ramrod had replaced his spine, but what else was wrong? What had made him pull away from me so completely?
The morning rush started pouring in, and I got lost in the mindless busyness of the day, which was a sweet relief, my only break from the endless questions and worries that ran on a rampant repeat loop through my mind every other waking hour.
* * * *
At the end of my ten hour shift, my feet hurt, my head ached, and all I wanted to do was get home as fast as humanly possible so that I could snuggle up with Jax and have him tell me all about his day with Hilda. But some force tugged me in a different direction, and before I could even consciously give myself permission, I found myself back in the kitchen, packing up a bag full of leftovers from the dinner that had been served the night before. The diner owner, Harry, had got it in his head to start doing a special dinner during the week, and even though it hadn’t been terribly successful so far, he had stuck to it, filling our chalkboard with a new dish each night—pot roast, mashed potatoes with gravy and homestyle biscuits, fish and chips with cabbage slaw, chicken sautéed in mushrooms and garlic with a veggie medley.
Really, the only benefit was that everyone on staff went home with a bag full of leftover meals each night.
I rounded up two days worth of food, and set out across the street, my footsteps clipped as I neared, my mind racing with encouraging thoughts to keep my moving. It’s just dinner. He needs to eat. He won’t send you away. He might be ready to talk.
I was surprised to find the front door of the shop was unlocked. I pushed inside the dark shop, noting that nothing looked like it had been used since the last time I’d been in, the night that I’d discovered that Jace was back home again. I glanced around and reassured myself that it was empty. I set the bag of groceries on Jace’s desk and took a look around, running my finger through the layer of dust that coated the counter in between the tall shelving units where I knew all his tattoo tools were stored away. I hadn’t seen the open sign—or the lights—on since he’d come home, and the dust confirmed my suspicion that he hadn’t done any work since his return.
I went back to the bag of food and made my way up the stairway that led to his upstairs apartment. The landing was lit up with the glow from a single, exposed light bulb hanging above. His front door was closed. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart rate, before raising my hand and knocking a gently tap on the metal door. The knocks vibrated through the small space, and I held the breath I’d sucked in, my heart pounding all the more as I waited.
Seconds—that felt like hours—later, the door slid to the side in its industrial style tracks, revealing Jace.
“Kat? What are you doing here?” His voice was short and demanding, but his eyes were almost soft around the edges, or at the very least, less harsh and cold than they’d been the last time we’d spoken to each other.
I held out the bag. “I brought you some food from the diner. We’re drowning in a sea of pot roast and gravy. I figured you could use a home cooked meal.”
He stared at me blankly, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking what he was thinking. I so desperately wanted to be inside his head, to see what was wrong, and to find a way to fix whatever had been broken. After a long pause, he stepped aside and let me into the apartment. His movements were less ginger than they’d been before, and a little spark of hope ignited in my chest, wondering if things were in fact changing.
I followed his lead into the kitchen, and set the large paper bag full of food on the counter near the fridge. Without a word, I started unpacking the bag, loading the food into his fridge to save him the effort. I’d made it less than halfway through the bag, when he snapped at me, “Stop! I can do it!” He grabbed my arm and pulled it away from the fridge, letting the door slam shut on its own.
I looked up at him, startled by his angry tone, and found his eyes changed back to ice. Hard, cold, and unfeeling. “Jace, I was just trying to help you,” I said, keeping my voice soft. My hands ached to reach up and run along his jaw, to feel his scruff against my skin.
“I don’t need help,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “This is my home, Kat, not a soup kitchen or food bank. I’m not some fucking charity case!”
“I never said you were!” I flung back, my eyes blazing as I stared at him. “Jace, what is going on? Why are you so angry?”
Jace looked away, and I noted the pulsing at his temple as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.
I stepped closer and placed my fingers on the side of his face, wishing my touch could soothe away the tension. Jace snapped back to me, his eyes wide, as though my fingertips had burned his skin, and without a word, he retreated from the kitchen. I followed after him, ready to scream, but stopped short when I watched the slow, pained way he lowered himself into his reclining chair. I couldn’t help myself from looking at the way his gnarled hand struggled to grip the arm of the chair, and my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces at the sight of my strong, broad shouldered soldier, my hero, my love, so broken and damaged. Defeated by a leather chair.
I hurried to his side, and grabbed his waist, trying to support him and make it easier, but he bellowed out at me. “Just leave! Kat! Get out! I’m too tired for this.”
I held up my hands in surrender and backed away from him. “I don’t know what the hell I did wrong, but fine, Jace. I’ll stop trying, since that’s what you seem to want.”
I spun on my heel and left the apartment, letting the metal door slam closed behind me as I raced down the stairs. I knew he couldn’t chase after me, but what hurt the most was knowing that even if he could…he wouldn’t.
Chapter Three — Kat
I did the best I could to block Jace out, focusing on school and spending time with Jax. We had settled easily back to our original schedule, and I loved having every other weekend with him, especially since those days were usually my only days off most weeks, and I could actually do things with him in the afternoons. One Saturday, we decided to take a picnic lunch to the park a few blocks away from the house. It was chilly as we transitioned into winter, but by the afternoon, the frost had melted away and the sun had come out. Jax and I bundled up into warm clothes, packed PB&J sandwiches and apple slices into a small basket, and walked to the park. Jax played in the leaves, and we ran around together all over the play structure which we had mostly to ourselves since it was a little chilly outside.
We finally wound down to eat, and
were in the middle of our sandwiches, when Jax stood from the thick flannel blanket I’d hauled along to sit on. I was about to ask what he saw, assuming it was a squirrel or someone with a dog, when he started wandering away. I craned around to see what he had locked in his sights, but the park looked empty.
“Friend Jace!” Jax squealed, taking off in a full sprint, as fast as his little legs could take him, across the playground. He was running for the street and my heart jolted into a full on hurricane inside of me as I bolted after him.
“Jax!” I screamed after him. I saw ahead of him, where Jace was walking on the opposite side of a very busy street. And although the speed limit was low due to its proximity to the park, people never seemed to slow down.
And my three-year-old was running right towards it.
“Jax, stop!” I cried out, over and over. He was still a few feet ahead of me, and showed no signs of stopping. I screamed out again, and Jace must have heard my voice, because he stopped walking and from across the field, I saw him spring into action.
“Jax! No!” He yelled, throwing himself into motion. He stepped into the street and held out his arms, signaling for the cars to stop. I watched, my legs still pumping as fast as they could go, as a car screeched to a halt, its front bumper ending up less than a foot away from Jace’s legs. The guy behind the wheel laid on the horn, but the noise didn’t faze Jace, but Jax stopped cold at the edge of the street.
I caught up as Jace was finishing crossing the street. “Jax, buddy, you can’t run into the street like that!” His voice was firm, but his face was soft with concern. I knelt down next to my little son who was shaking as he looked at the car that had almost plowed into Jace as it sped off angrily down the street, flipping the bird at Jace’s back. My fists balled up, gallons of adrenaline throwing me into a violent mama bear mode, but Jace’s blue eyes stopped me with a look. He leaned over, his face clenched with a sever grimace, but he didn’t stop until he was eye to eye with Jax. “You gotta be careful, bud. I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”
Jax nodded his solemn understanding and wrapped his arms around Jace’s neck. Jace looked up at me and mouthed “it’s okay.”
“Friend Jace,” Jax mumbled into Jace’s shoulder.
“Yeah buddy. We’re friends,” Jace replied, his voice thick with emotion.
I looked away, and brushed a tear from my cheek. The scene was something from the dreams I’d had while Jace had been deployed. The image of him and Jax embraced like father and son had been something I’d longed for to the core of my heart, and now that it was unfolding in front of me, it stung, reminding me that it was one more fragment of those dreams that would never fully come true.
“Come on, bud.” I ruffled Jax’s hair. “I’m sure Jace is busy.”
Jace’s eyes pressed shut against my words. And I wondered if he wished I hadn’t said anything at all.
“Come play, friend Jace!” Jax said, letting go of his hold on him.
Jace straightened, his jaw clenched tight. He looked down at Jax. “I wish I could buddy. I gotta get home and take my medicine though, I’m not feeling very good these days.”
“Oh,” Jax said.
Jace looked at me, his eyes sad and heavy. I knew he didn’t know what to say next, so I leaned over, placing my hands on Jax’s shoulders. “Come on honey, let’s tell Jace to feel better soon, and go back and finish our lunch.”
Jax nodded and waved up to Jace. “Feel better.”
Jace smiled. “Thanks bud. And remember, be careful okay? Stay away from the street. You don’t want to scare your mom.”
Jax smiled up at him and kept waving until he was down the sidewalk and got lost in a thick grove of trees that walled the park off from the noisy street. Only when we couldn’t see him anymore, did Jax finally let me direct him back to where we’d been eating a picnic lunch off to the side of the playground.
* * * *
The following weekend, I took Jax to Mitch and Hannah’s for their weekend. Jax hadn’t spent a full weekend with them since they’d had their baby daughter, Emmaline, a month before. They weren’t sleeping through the night, and had preferred day visits with Jax instead of adding a rambunctious toddler and his even rowdier dog, Mickey, into the mix. I thought it was a little ridiculous, since millions of people around the globe somehow managed to care for both a toddler and a newborn, but I kept my judgment to myself, and instead basked in having so much extra time with Jax.
As soon as I got him out of his car seat, Jax bounded up to the front door, and before I could stop him, rang the doorbell three times in a row. “Jax!” I called over to him. “Shh! The baby is probably sleeping.”
Sure enough, a very disgruntled looking Mitch answered the door a few minutes later. His hair was askew, and I instantly knew that he’d been asleep. As I neared, the lines on his face filled in the blanks, looking like the lines from couch cushions. He glared at me for a moment, as though it was my fault, before leaning down to Jax, who had gone statue still at his dad’s presence. “Jaxy, your baby sister is sleeping. You have to be very quiet.”
As if on cue, Mickey bounded up from where he’d been doing his business on the front lawn, and barreled past Mitch, which—like a chaotic set of dominos—got Jax riled all over again, and without another thought to his dad’s request, charged after the half crazy dog, his footsteps thundering on the hardwood floors.
Mitch rolled his eyes and muttered a string of curses under his breath, not giving me another look before turning away and going inside. I was still holding Jax’s small backpack and Mickey’s leash, so I followed behind him, after deciding that dumping the belongings on the welcome mat would be rude.
Truth be told, I had very carefully avoiding Mitch and Hannah’s since they brought their baby girl home from the hospital. Jax had talked all about his little sister, and that had been a hard enough pill to swallow. I smiled and asked polite questions as he told me about it, because my three-year-old son shouldn’t have to filter pieces of his little life, he wouldn’t know that it was hard for his mama to hear. Luckily, Jax’s attention span was short, and his conversations about his sister never lasted too long.
As I stepped into the living room, a few feet behind Mitch, my heart stopped and all the air from my lungs vanished. My feet turned to cement blocks, at the sight of Hannah on the couch, her hair falling around her face in perfect, soft waves, and the heart breaking smile as she looked down into the face of her nursing baby, wrapped in a soft pink blanket. They were in a bubble of quiet, unfiltered joy, and my eyes blurred as I watched. The chaos and noise went silent, and it took a minute for Mitch to jar me from my trance.
“—over on the table…Katherine?”
I snapped to attention at the sound of my name and tore my eyes from Hannah and the small pink bundle, to find Mitch staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, my heart sputtering back into a frantic beat.
“You can put the backpack on that table,” he repeated in a cadence like I was mentally slow or hard of hearing.
I stalked to table and when I turned to leave, Hannah was watching me, the serene smile still on her glowing face. “Hey Katherine. We’re just about done here, if you want to hold her,” she said.
“Um—no, no, that’s all right. I have to get going—” I fumbled over my words as I dug my car keys out of my jeans pocket where I’d tucked them on my way into the house. “Thanks, maybe next…another time.”
Hannah smiled, completely oblivious to my ramblings and waved goodbye before turning her eyes back to the perfect face that was still suckling at her.
Jax ran up to me, crashing into my legs, and I nearly fell to the floor. “Jax!” I hissed, annoyed as I righted myself.
“Shh!” Mitch snapped.
I mentally counted to three, not wanting to lose my shit completely. “Come on, baby. You can watch me from the window,” I said, reaching for his hand.
Neither Hannah nor Mitch said anything as I led Jax
back to the foyer. I knelt down and hugged him tight, swallowing the lump of emotion in my throat and trying to shove aside the image of Hannah and the baby. I had the best little son in the entire world, and that was enough.
We said goodbye, and Jax and Mickey both sat at the front window as I went out and got into my car. I waved goodbye, choking back tears, and started the engine.
I backed down the drive, my fingers gripping the steering wheel as though it was the edge of a steep cliff, the only thing anchoring me from falling into oblivion. As I pulled out onto the street and automatically headed back to the highway, I lost control of the tears in my eyes, and sobbed all the way back home.
Hilda was outside, tending to her potted plants on the front porch of her neighboring townhouse, and waved as I pulled into my driveway. I swiped at my eyes before getting out of the car, but practically before I even got the driver’s door opened all the way, she was in my postage stamp yard, her dark eyes flooded with concern. “Dear, what’s the matter?”
For a flicker of a second, I tried to manufacture a lie, anything would be better than admitting that I was jealous of my ex-husband’s mistress-turned-wife.
“Come dear,” Hilda said, not waiting for a reply. She gently took me by the arm, and led me up the stairs to her front room, sitting me down on the couch, before going to the kitchen to make us some tea. I knew what she was doing before I even heard the tea kettle being placed on the stove top. Hilda and I had a certain rhythm, and in moments like this one, words weren’t even needed. She knew how to take care of me, even when I didn’t have a clue.
I relaxed my head back against the couch, listening to the familiar sounds as she bustled around the kitchen, and let the warmth of her home seep into my skin.
Moments later, she returned to me, and took the rocking recliner seat opposite my place on the couch. “The tea will be ready in a minute or two,” she said softly.
“Thank you Hilda.” I straightened and gave her a small smile. “I’m all right, I just—” I was stuck, still unsure of how to put words together that would express the absolute mess of emotions wound up inside me. It was Mitch, it was Hannah, it was their precious baby girl, it was my own uncertain, fucked up heart.