Tag Fight For Me

by Catherine Charles

  He chuckles as if he can say no to her. “You know I can't pass up blueberry pancakes, Buttercup.” I feel as though this is one of those out-of-body moments people occasionally talk about having. It’s as if I’m watching myself and Presley interact. “Now go clean up, you stink.”

  Cora laughs and playfully pushes against his chest before heading upstairs, his eyes never leaving her until the bathroom door closes and he looks back at me.

  “Give them tonight,” Presley said, well I gave them last night and look what happened. I should have gone down there. Cora’s practically in love with him, and I went from being the father of a depressed daughter caught in the throes of teenage angst, to being the father of a girl about ninety-seven percent in love with a much older man and practically down the aisle. Where the hell is Presley? She could keep me calm and stop me from wanting to strangle Jackson.

  “Thank you Jax. It’s good to hear her laugh again.”

  He gives a little nod and glances at the bathroom door again. “It really is. I’m gonna go wash up really quick and use the restroom if you don’t mind.”

  “Go ahead. You know where it’s at.”

  Jax leaves the room and I’m left standing there to deal with my own emotions, sarcastically muttering Presley’s words to me from last night.

  She probably knew what today would bring and so she purposely left me to deal with it. Probably to make me embrace the fact that my only daughter, my baby girl, was growing up whether I liked it or not. Sneaky, conniving, this wasn’t Presley’s doing, but the underhanded workings of Donovan. Making me face things I wasn’t prepared to face.

  She knew what she was doing all along.

  Jax emerges from the bathroom a couple minutes later and I know I need to take this time to talk to him about Cora. He pulls out a bar chair and sits at the counter, hands clasp together in front of him, as he edges himself a few inches closer.

  “Mr. West.”

  Aww hell. Where the hell is Presley for this. Mr. West? Jax has never called me anything but Uncle Robert. I look back at the garage door willing it to open with Presley ready to handle this situation.

  “Jackson. What’s with the formality?”

  “I know that we aren’t officially related, and I wanted to give you and Mrs. West the respect you deserve when it comes to your daughter.” Well, he’s at least starting out on the right foot, I’ll give him that much. “I know right now our age gap seems incredibly large and I can understand your uneasiness with me around her.” He stops and looks up from the counter hesitantly.

  I nod, “Go on.”

  “But Gram told me before she was born that she was going to be mine one day, and I would like that to be true, but that comes down to Cora and what she wants.”

  I nod, recalling the moment I had this same conversation with Presley’s mother when I was just a year older than what Jax is right now.

  “I want her to have all the experiences that you both want her to have, but I cannot deny that I love her. Nothing good comes from trying to diminish my feelings for her.”

  He stops again, this time more confident, locking eyes with me.

  “I’m listening.”

  “So, what I want to know, is how long do I need to wait until I can officially date your daughter?”

  And there it was. The words were out. There was no going back from that moment.

  This was the conversation I was hoping to have, one that he so eloquently executed, but yet also the one I was dreading having.

  The garage door opens and in walks Presley and Liv who can immediately sense the tension in the air, or at least Presley can.

  “Hey guys! I take it Cora finally woke up.” Liv is oblivious like usual.

  “She sure did.” I utter as Presley comes to stand by me looking at Jax whose expression hasn’t wavered with the addition of two more people into our conversation. Presley seems to have figured out what’s going on, but still asks to be sure.

  “What’s going on here?”

  I look at Jackson, “Should I tell them, or do you want to?”

  “Tell us what?” Liv stands at the head of the island, closer to Jax while Presley and I are opposite him.

  “Mrs. West.”

  Good man.

  “I just asked Mr. West what the age was that I could officially date your daughter.”

  The room goes silent, and again all eyes are on me.

  “Jax, if I tell you, there are conditions that you must follow no matter what. And you must accept those conditions before learning the age that we have all agreed on.”

  Jax shakes Liv’s hand from his back, looking at her in slight disgust. “Mom?”

  She nods her head yes and grips the counter. “Jax, you have to understand, it was either this or keep you two separated.”

  “Liv, call Trey,” I instruct as Jax moves from a sitting position to now pacing the length of the bar.

  “Wait! Dad knew about this too?”

  Liv nods her head.

  “So you all knew this would happen?”

  “Yes. And we have rules in place for both of you.” Presley speaks up, but she’s more business than caring mother.

  Liv tries to plead with Jax to calm his anger. “Jax, we were only trying to do what we thought was best for both of you.”

  Jax’s wild eyes land back on Liv as his voice raises. “You knew how much I liked her, and you were constantly telling me that she was too young for me, but yet come to find out, you knew all along what the outcome would eventually be. How could you!”

  Trey steps in ready to defend Liv. “What’s going on?”

  “Jax asked the age he could date Cora.” Liv very matter-of-factly replies while Trey shakes it off with a simple shrug of the shoulders and an ‘Oh.’

  “She’s still too young.”

  “Excuse me?” Jax seems shocked at Trey’s response, his mouth opens to say something the same time Cora comes bounding down the stairs in fresh pajamas, saddling up next to him.

  “Who’s too young? Where are the pancakes?”

  Jax glares at the four of us. Where once stood a boy, now stands a man as he squeezes her tight to his side and she looks up at him with big expectant eyes.

  “Your dad didn’t have any flour.”

  She drops her eyes and begins to look around, “Oh.”

  He squeezes her again, bringing her attention back to him. “Go change and I’ll take you to go get some.”

  Her eyes light up just before she races up the stairs and into her room. I’m on the verge of losing my baby girl and Jax’s icy stare shifts back to us the minute he’s sure she can't hear our conversation, dropping his voice to a low rumble.

  “This discussion’s not over. You all were playing with my fucking life.”

  “Jax—”

  “Save it, mother.”

  “Jackson,” I growl out. He crossed a line in his response to Liv. “I hope I don’t need to tell you to keep—”

  He looks me square in the eyes with a look that’s intent on silencing me. “It’s in your best interest not to finish that statement. I will tell her what she deserves to know.”

  Once again my baby girl comes bouncing down the stairs. “You ready?” Eyes bright, smile wide, looking at Jax just like a puppy looks at a new toy, overly excited.

  He matches her enthusiasm when he looks at her and makes his way over to her. “Definitely. I’m starving.”

  And then, in a final display of dominance, he looks at the four of us, slips his hand into hers and intertwines their fingers together before giving off a cocky ‘go fuck yourself’ grin.

  “Let’s go, Buttercup.”

  Cora is too wrapped up in him to have even noticed the exchange, but as they walk out the door, we all breathe a heavy sigh.

  “Liv? Wine?” Presley offers as she pops the cork on a half-opened bottle from last night while Liv pulls out two glasses.

  “God yes and make it tall.”

  “Trey? Whiskey?” I ask, pul
ling two glasses from the cabinet as he opens the liquor cabinet and reaches for the strong stuff in the back.

  “We’re drinking doubles tonight.” We all settle around the island, I on one side, Trey at the head, and Liv and Presley sitting on the other side.

  “What happened? I thought things were going well. Jax was dating and keeping busy with work and gigs.” Trey asked, confused.

  “We shouldn’t have let them get so close.” Presley shakes her head and I want to bring up last night and the fact that I wanted to go down to check on them, but I can tell she’s already beating herself up over this.

  “I should have stayed with the original plan.”

  “Robert, this isn’t your fault. Jax was attached to Cora since the beginning. Literally. Like seventy-two hours beginning. He wasn’t going to forget about her, ever. You saw how sad he was when you guys left each time. He was miserable.”

  “He would have gotten over it.”

  Presley snaps her eyes at me and crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you?”

  “I learned to deal with it. And yeah, eventually I pushed your memory into a tiny little box, locked it and threw away the key.”

  “But you never forgot.”

  “Of course not P! You were mine.”

  The kitchen falls silent for a minute. None of us knowing what to say to one another. Too focused on finding something to blame. But the reality is, this was always going to happen.

  “Liv, Trey, look, I’m sorry.”

  “Robert, hush. You have no reason to be sorry.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Presley and I have been so concerned with allowing Cora to grow up unattached to someone, that we didn’t think of Jax’s feeling in all of this.”

  Trey grips my shoulder and gives it a shake, “It’s not your fault. I don’t think we did either.”

  “I guess I thought that as Jax got older, he would be attracted to older girls. Girls in his same grade level, if not older. I just never imagined them being so dumb and shallow. I’ve talked to them...they’re terrible.”

  Liv and Presley laugh, and Liv stretches her arms across the bar before sitting upright again. “Cora has personality. She’s feisty, she’s loving, has laser focus and determination. She’s a mini Presley to a T. What’s not to love about her?”

  “No one is to blame here. None of us have ever gone down this path, and just like everything else, we’ll figure it out together.”

  Presley nods, “But it’s time to include Jackson in this. He deserves to know our reasoning behind everything.”

  Trey and I clink glasses and answer ‘agreed’ in unison, while Liv hesitates for a second.

  “He’s gonna be so pissed at us but agreed.”

  “I’ll give him this...the guy’s got balls for sure.” I slap Trey on the back. “You did good.”

  “Man, I was impressed you didn’t lose your cool the way he challenged you like that. But man, was I proud of him.”

  Liv reaches out to grab Trey’s forearm and starts fanning herself, which only causes Presley to laugh. “God so was I! I almost feel dirty thinking it, but to see him make a power move like that and know I created that man in there...wow...Momma and Daddy did good work.”

  Presley throws her head back in laughter, nearly falling off her chair while Trey looks wide-eyed at Liv, “Just how much have you had to drink woman. I think it’s time you’re cut off.”

  He reaches for her glass, but she pulls it away, and into Presley’s waiting hand. “That’s actually a good idea. Who knows when they’ll come home and when Jax will want to continue this discussion. We need to be clear headed.”

  Trey nods in agreement, “Presley’s right. And we continue to support each other.”

  “Major decisions are made together.” Liv chimes in grabbing her glass back from Pres holding it in the air.

  “They’re still not dating till Cora turns twenty.”

  Trey and I bring our glasses up to meet Liv’s.

  “To twenty.” Presley finishes out our pact and we clink glasses before taking a final drink, sitting in the living room, waiting for them to come home.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I walk Cora to the car, never letting her hand go from mine. Hopefully she’s oblivious to what just happened back inside.

  I open the door and finally let her hand go as she slides inside.

  She deserves to know how our parents have been playing a game with our lives. Keeping us apart and then forcing us together. Telling us that’s she’s too young and I’m too old. We’re three years apart. It’s not that big a deal.

  I slide in behind the wheel and she looks over at me.

  “What’s going on, Jax?”

  I startle at her question. “What do you mean?”

  “I know we weren’t out of flour, and there was a box of pancake mix sitting on the counter behind Dad.”

  “It was expired.”

  “And the flour? Mom loves to bake; we are never out of baking supplies...ever.”

  I shrug my shoulders and look straight at the road, willing her to drop this.

  “You’re a terrible liar, you know that. But I’ll let it go because I’m starving and I don’t care where I get pancakes, just as long as I get them.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, stomps her foot and blows out a little humph.

  How can I tell her the truth when I don’t know what the truth is yet. “Thank you.”

  The half an hour drive to the nearest all night breakfast house is mostly quiet.

  I lose track of the number of times I’ve glanced over at her. She seems happy and at peace, but I can see her trying to fight back her yawns. “Tired?”

  She rests her head on the door frame and looks out the front window. “A little.”

  “We can get the food to go if you want.”

  She jerks her head to look at me, gripping her chest over her heart and playfully giggling. “Are you trying to get rid of me already? Got some hot date you need to get ready for?”

  Thank God she’s laughing at her accusation.

  “What? No. There’s no way I’d get rid of you Cora and believe me—no dates for the foreseeable future either.”

  “Why? Already dated the whole junior class?” She pushes against my arm, bumping my shoulder into the side window and I laugh.

  “I see...someone thinks she’s funny.” She blushes, but looks out the front window, almost as if she’s afraid of what my answer will be. “There’s just no one I’m interested in at the moment.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. You’re with her right now. Seriously dude, the first time you take her out and you’re taking her to a whole in the wall breakfast joint. Man, you’re lame. Next time...try harder.

  “Just wait, I’m sure she’ll come along when you least expect it.”

  I want to scream at her to stop it. I want to say, “It’s you,” but instead I bite the inside of my cheek and keep quiet.

  “Just do me a favor and be honest with me about it, okay?” Her playfulness is gone and instead she’s somber.

  “Deal.”

  I give her a nudge, but it doesn’t change her expression. “What about you? Any eighth-grade guys you like?”

  Ohh...fuck. Eighth grade. I’m in high school. That just sounds pervy as hell. Maybe this is what our parents were trying to prevent.

  “Yea right.” She blows out a breath of frustration, “One, I have like zero free time, and two, Dad probably won't let me date till I’m like thirty.”

  My stomach dips at the thought and I try to laugh it off. “True.”

  Thirty. Is that the number? Dear God, don’t let that be true.

  “Hey, Cora?” I look over at her as she stares out the passenger window, a shallow ‘hmm’ vibrates from her throat. “Why did you pick dance? Out of everything else that you could be doing, why that?”

  “Haha. That’s easy! My mother has two left feet.”

  I quickly glimpse over at her. “I don’t under
stand?”

  “It’s the same reason you play guitar. I wanted something that was just mine. Something her name isn’t connected to. The boys are already being groomed for professional careers, and that’s fine. That’s what they want, and Mom has actually been really chill about it all, but I wanted to stand on my own. To prove to them, and myself, that I could be a bad ass as well. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but—”

  “It makes perfect sense.” I smile at her; I want to lace my fingers with hers, bringing them to my lips, but I keep my hands on the wheel.

  Seriously, how is she only fourteen?

  She has more complex thought than any of the girls I’ve dated. I can actually have a conversation with her that isn’t just surface level; it has depth and meaning to it.

  “Oh—goody!”

  And then she does that. I can't help but laugh at her excitement as we pull into the parking lot.

  “Someone hungry?”

  She grabs her stomach as if she’s about to double over in pain, “You have no idea. I hope you have money, otherwise we’re doing dishes.” She’s so stinkin' cute.

  “Yes Cora. I have money, come on, let’s get you fed.”

  Getting out, I run around the front and open her door for her. I’ve watched Uncle Robert for the last seventeen years. I’ve watched the way he’s treated Presley and I know what Cora’s seen and what she probably expects. This may not be a date in her eyes, but it is in mine.

  We’re seated immediately, and the server comes to take our order. I order a simple sandwich with fries, while she orders the majority of the breakfast menu, blueberry pancakes, sausage, eggs, and hash browns. The waitress looks at her completely dumbfounded while I try unsuccessfully to hide my laughter.

  “Anything else?” I ask her before the waitress leaves to put in our order.

  She shakes her head confidently. “Nope. That’s it.” She smiles proudly.

  Soon our food is brought out. Plates and plates of food are set on our table and she hides her blushing face behind her hands. “I look like a pig.”

  “But a very cute pig.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud?

  Her emerald eyes attempt an evil stare, which she fails miserably at, thanks to laughter sputtering through pursed lips.