Page 29

RUMI

This was a stupid idea.

I should’ve never agreed to this.

Standing at Jack’s front door with Evee in my arms, her diaper bag over my other shoulder, I set the brown paper bag of the carryout order I picked up on the way here.

Jack had mentioned dinner, and I don’t know if he heard me when I told him I was vegan when we made these plans, so I figured I would pick up food for us.

He texted me his address earlier this week, but we’ve only sent a few messages back and forth to confirm time and place—I wasn’t surprised to find out he’s not a huge texter.

I pace back and forth in front of the door, working up the nerve to ring the doorbell.

This is Ava’s fault. She’s the one who put all that date stuff in my head, and now I’m overthinking every little thing.

What if he already had plans for what to do for dinner, or what if he thinks plant-based burgers are gross? Trevor did.

What if I got the time wrong? What if he isn’t expecting me for another hour?

I pull my phone from my back pocket—it’s five minutes to 6 p.m.

What if the plans aren’t even for today? What if I have the whole day wrong?

What if I missed the text where he canceled? What if he’s not even expecting me?

I open up our text thread, needing to settle this anxiety before it swallows me whole, my mind spinning, magnifying each and every bad feeling I had about tonight.

Before I can click on his name in my messages, I hear the front door open.

“You made it.”

I look up and see Jack looking at me, holding the door open, and my mind goes silent.

No more thoughts, no more nerves, nothing except for how good he looks in the white long-sleeved shirt and black shorts, short enough to see a few tattoos peeking out on his muscular thighs and trailing down his strong calves, and I let my eyes roam over the skin and back up his tall frame.

His dark hair is damp and brushed back like he just ran his fingers through it; his stubble casts a shadow over his jaw, but it’s more prominent above his lips, making them look even more full.

I never paid much attention to a man’s lips before—the shape, the color, how soft they look—but there’s something about Jack’s that makes it hard to tear my eyes away.

A finger brushes just under my chin, gently lifting my head to meet his eyes.

Only a few inches from mine, the green is deeper than I’ve ever noticed before, like a forest at dusk—lush, untamed, and filled with secrets, begging me to come closer and lose myself within.

“Careful, Rumi,” he says, and I can feel his cool, minty breath against my lips—that’s how close he is.

I didn’t even realize he leaned in.

I should feel the need to take a step back, put some space between us.

But I don’t.

“I can’t be held responsible for what I do when those pretty blue eyes look at me like that,” he adds, using his finger under my chin to close my mouth for me.

And apparently I can’t be held responsible for where my mind goes when I see a mustache, thigh tattoos, and five-inch inseam shorts.

Out of the corner of my eye, two little arms reach out, palms opening and closing in Jack’s direction, and I come back from whatever fantasy world I was just living in. “Sorry. Hi, thanks for inviting us over.”

Jack’s smile is subtle, like a whisper of one, but I can still see it. He takes a step back, but Evee’s arms still reach toward him. We both look down at her, and I remember the food I brought.

“Oh, and I brought dinner. Sorry, I should’ve mentioned it before coming,” I say, about to reach for the bag.

“Here.” Jack reaches his arms toward me. “I can hold her.” I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to beat any faster, not until he said that just inches from my face. “If that’s okay,” he adds.

“Are you sure?” I ask, but Evee is already leaning toward him.

“Come here, Evee girl,” he says to her, and I pass her to him but make no effort to grab the bag of food.

He holds her gently, a little stiff and unsure at first, but the way he looks at her—like she’s something fragile and sacred—makes my chest ache in a very dangerous way.

Evee bounces in his arms where he balances her against his chest, one arm under her and the other at her back—he sways back and forth subtly as he looks at her, and I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

Her face is curious as she grabs the fabric of his white long-sleeve with both hands, her eyes roaming up and down his face.

Like mother, like daughter .

A cool breeze hits my exposed arms, giving me a little shiver, causing Jack to turn my way. “Come on in,” he says, taking a few steps back with Evee, giving me room to enter.

I grab the bag of food at my feet, adjusting Evee’s diaper bag on my shoulder as I walk through the door. The smell of fresh paint and clean wood hits me instantly as I enter the space.

Walking in, Jack closes the door behind me, and I take off my sneakers out of habit from living with Ava, looking around at his home.

Jack takes the food and the diaper bag from my shoulder, grabbing both in one hand as he holds Evee in the other with greater ease now, getting more and more comfortable by the second.

“Let me give you two the tour,” Jack says as I follow him into the living room that leads into the kitchen. He never fails to include Evee, saying he wants to give the two of us the tour instead of me.

It’s something small, but it means so much.

Jack sets the food and diaper bag on the kitchen counter, turning to look at me.

He points to where I’m standing just in front of his couch, one of the only furniture pieces in the open living room aside from a coffee table and TV.

“That’s the living room.” He points from where he’s standing with Evee. “This is the kitchen.” I follow his gaze as he points to the left. “Bathroom is there. Then there are two bedrooms down that hall, and the primary bedroom and bathroom are upstairs.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say, looking around, noticing the bare walls and random boxes throughout.

Although there’s not much, the house doesn’t feel empty or void—it has a homeyness to it already.

“And you’ve been here since Tuesday?” Emerson mentioned that Jack was treating her and Luke to coffee for helping him move that day they came to Hey Honey’s.

Jack keeps moving side to side, keeping Evee moving in his arms as he answers. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ve never really lived alone before, but I’m really only here to sleep.”

“You’ve never lived alone?” I ask, rounding the couch and heading toward the kitchen.

I can’t help but ask. I know Jack is at least ten years older than me, putting him in his mid-thirties.

Having heard from Luke that he went to the fire academy straight from college, I can’t help but wonder why he’s never lived alone.

Probably a significant other or something.

The thought is silly and comes out of nowhere, but I can’t fight the prick of jealousy—as misplaced as it is—that I feel.

Jack shakes his head as I unzip my diaper bag, pulling out a portable play mat and a few toys and books I brought to keep Evee entertained.

“I lived at my mom’s when I was going through the fire academy and all my other training, and then I moved in with a friend of mine when we both started working at the station. ”

“Friend?” I try to ask casually, not wanting to sound too interested.

“Yeah, my friend Bennett. We went through the fire academy together and then got jobs at the same station, so we shared an apartment until he—” He pauses, like the word that comes next can’t physically come out.

I know the story of Bennett and how he died, and I instantly feel stupid for asking in the first place. I shouldn’t have pried, especially now that I made Jack talk about something when he doesn't seem ready to.

He clears his throat, letting the sentence stay open-ended. “Do you want to put that in the living room?” He nods to the playmat and toys in my hands, and I take the hint, letting him change the subject.

Guilt washes over me.

“Oh, sure. That works,” I manage to say.

We walk in silence over to the living room, and I lay out Evee’s playmat on the carpet.

“Sorry,” he says after a moment. “I’m still getting used to talking about him so casually.” I bend to set out some toys as Jack sets Evee down.

Sitting next to her, Evee starts grabbing at her toys, and the need to apologize overwhelms me. “No, I’m sor?—”

“That’s the third time tonight.” Jack sits on the other side of the playmat.

Third time?

I don’t know what he’s talking about.

When I don’t say anything, he must read the confusion on my face, so he clarifies, “That’s the third time you’ve apologized for something you didn’t need to apologize for tonight, and you’ve been here for five minutes.

” His tone is straight-forward but not unkind.

“I know you said you’re used to apologizing even when you don’t have to, but you don’t have to do that with me.

” He settles on the floor, laying on his side, holding himself up with an elbow as he puts one of Evee’s toys in front of her, and she grabs it instantly.

Part of me wants to say “okay” and move on, but there’s another part of me that wants to explain myself—explain why I feel the need to apologize.

Explain why I even asked about his friend to begin with.

But that opens a whole Pandora’s box of not only the weird feeling of jealousy that I don’t even fully understand, but my past too.

My past that I’m not sure I’m ready to share.

“How come you’re only here to sleep?” I ask instead, getting our initial conversation back on track. I criss-cross my legs in front of me, watching as he keeps putting toys in front of Evee for her to grab them from him and play with for a few seconds before repeating the process.

Jack shrugs. “My shifts run for 24 hours, and between work, the gym, and spending time with my mom, I haven’t been home much.”

“Does your mom live close?” I ask, a tug of longing pulls at me, thoughts of my own parents—or lack thereof—coming to mind.