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CHAPTER TWELVE

SISTERS

EMMA

F our missed calls. Two voicemails. Twenty five text messages.

This is the response from my little sister after telling her that I was watching Jax’s kids last night. Frankly, I’m shocked she isn’t on her way to Saratoga right now to track me down. I know I owe her a phone call, but I’ll take care of that later. For now, I need to shower and change out of yesterday’s clothes, and shake loose the image in my head of Jax coming home early this morning with dark circles under his eyes and a weariness in his body as he sat and ate dinner. Or the way he looked at me when I pulled myself out of the blanket fort this morning. Or the way I wish he’d look at me like that again.

My phone rings, and even though I want to continue to ignore my sister, I can’t bring myself to do it. I accept the call and hold my phone to my ear, and Molly – true to form – doesn’t wait for me to speak before she expresses her displeasure over being ignored.

“You drop a bomb like ‘I’m watching Hot Single Dad’s kids’ and then have the audacity to hang up on me? And not only did you hang up on me, but you ignored me for the next…” she pauses, for too short a moment. “Twenty hours!?”

“First of all,” I laugh, making my way to the couch and settling in for what will probably be a long phone call. “I never said anything about him being hot.”

“You didn’t have to, it was implied.”

“Second of all, it wasn’t twenty hours.”

“I rounded up.” So that’s how it’s going to be. “Seriously Emma. What happened last night?”

I recap the evening for her, starting with ice cream after the baseball game and ending with waking up and spending a few minutes ogling Jax from the privacy of the blanket fort before joining him in the kitchen this morning, enjoying the way his tee shirt hugged the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. The way his sweatpants sat low on his hips, revealing just an inch of skin when he reached for those mugs from the upper cabinet. I won’t deny that he’s attractive, but I also won’t give my sister the satisfaction of confirming it.

“I’ve never heard of a blanket fort walk of shame, but I like it,” Molly laughs.

“Oh, darling sister, there was no shame.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. Was it a little weird waking up on the floor of Jax’s house this morning? Yeah. But there was no shame in it. There was definitely no shame in my anxiety finally quieting down enough so that I could sleep knowing he was nearby. There’s no shame in the fact that the last thing I saw when I closed my eyes last night was the soft smile on Jax’s face when his eyes met mine in the glow of the television with the girls between us.

“So are you going to see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably see him at soccer practice this week.”

“You know what I meant, Em.”

“I know, but Molly he’s the dad of one of my players. And both girls go to my school. I see them everyday when their classes come to the library. The youngest one hangs out with me during her recess. I can’t risk them getting caught up in another one of my failed relationships.”

“Okay,” Molly turns serious, “those relationships failed because those men were trash.”

“That’s a little harsh…” I don’t know why I bother trying to defend them.

“One dumped you after your injury because you were a status symbol for him. The one before that cheated on you with your roommate. And do I need to remind you…”

“Nope. No. No more reminders necessary, please and thank you.”

“Okay. But I’m just saying, you deserve a guy that treats you right, and it sounds like he at least manages to do that.”

“He does…”

“What’s the story about the girls’ mom?”

“I have no idea, and I haven’t asked.” And I don’t plan on asking. At least not anytime soon. Though, I did notice that there were no pictures around the house that featured a wife or mom. No wedding pictures, no pictures of the girls with any women other than the ones I’ve already met – their grandma and aunts – and that fact alone piques my curiosity even more.

“Okay. Last question before the sisterly inquisition ends: What’s his name? I’m wondering if it’s anyone I know.”

“Jax Hutchinson.”

“Nope. I don’t know him. But I can’t wait to meet him.”

Before I can ask what she means by that, Molly hangs up the phone. After last night, I know I deserve it, but now I’m wondering if I need to make up the guest room for her. I do, just in case. As much as we drove each other crazy when we lived together, I love my sister and miss having her around. She was really good about reminding me to eat, or drink water. She made sure I did my exercises for my knee, and took my meds when I needed to. I know how big a burden I was for my little sister, even though she’d tell me not to say that. I was. And I’m glad that she’s struck out on her own now, finally following her dreams. But sometimes, I selfishly wish her dream kept her a little closer to home.

“Good morning, Ms. Mitchell,” Mrs. Owens regards me with an icy stare as I enter the building on Monday morning. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

She asks like she’s fishing for information, or trying to confirm a rumor, but that could just be anxiety talking. I did have a nice weekend. The majority of it was spent babysitting two of my students, and sleeping in a blanket fort a stone’s throw from their dad during a thunderstorm, but Mrs. Owens doesn’t need to know that.

“I did. It was a great weekend,” I answer with as few details as possible. It was a great weekend, I enjoyed every minute of it, but she doesn’t need the details of the weekend. I have a feeling if she knew the details of the weekend she’d have an even more sour look on her face than the one she’s giving me now.

“Did you enjoy the baseball game?” She asks and a chill runs down my spine.

“I did,” I dance around fully answering her question. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I was there,” she answers, narrowing her gaze at me. “I’m always there to support my husband and the men and women who play on the team.” Her tone softens for a moment and her gaze travels down the hall where two little girls walk hand in hand to their classrooms. “I feel very protective of those baseball players. And their families.”

“So do I, Mrs. Owens.” The younger of the two girls steps into her classroom, her older sister waiting at the door for a moment before walking down to her own classroom, tugging my heart with her as she does, emboldening me in the strangest way. “Ask what you want to ask.”

“I’m concerned,” she takes me by the elbow and leads me into the library. “Those boys are like sons to Lee and me, and those girls are…I don’t want to see them, any of them, get hurt.”

“And you think I’m going to hurt them, Mrs. Owens?”

“No, Emma, I don’t. I think you’re going to get attached to them. And if that ends for whatever reason, you’ll all walk away hurt.” She’s got me there. That’s what I’ve been afraid of in all of this. What if I do get attached to the girls, or to Jax, and we all end up hurt in the end? I can’t do that to those girls. Mrs. Owens gives me a small smile, which is rare for her, before continuing. “However, I’ve never seen Jax as distracted as he was when he realized you showed up to the game. Lee couldn’t stop laughing about it when we got home that night.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks and I busy myself at my desk, sitting down and booting up my computer, stashing my purse and lunch bag in the bottom drawer of my desk, as Mrs. Owens lingers.

“You and Mr. Owens don’t have to worry. I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Well, have a good day, Ms. Mitchell.”

“You too, Mrs. Owens, you old softy,” I joke.

“You take that back.”

“Never,” I laugh as she turns on her heel and walks away, but not before giving me a wide smile. I think, finally, I’ve endeared myself to the woman who terrified me the first time I stepped into her office, and has continued to scare the daylights out of me everyday since. I still wouldn’t want to cross her, but at least I can joke with her now.

When the second graders come in for lunch, Alice passes my desk and leaves a small plastic container near my keyboard before camping out near the science books. She told me one day that she wanted to learn about her uncle Marcus’s rock science, so I helped her find the few geology books we have in the library, and may have ordered a few more to have on hand.

I open the container to find a stack of chocolate chip cookies. Six, perfectly round, beautifully golden brown cookies studded with chocolate chips and dark chocolate chunks, and the smell of butter and brown sugar greets me as I lift the lid. Taking a bite of one of the slightly chewy, a little bit crispy, completely perfect cookies, I sigh and sit back in my chair before going in for another bite. I need this recipe.

I track Alice down, and find her exactly where I thought I would, reading a geology for kids book that I just added to the library. She’s stretched out on the floor, laying on her belly as she reads, feet kicking in the air.

“Hey Alice,” I crouch down beside her and she looks up, her bright blue eyes meeting mine. “Thanks for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Mitchell. Daddy helped us make them last night and he told me I could bring you and Mrs. Owens some today.”

“That was very nice of you. I tried one already and it was delicious. Do you think your dad would share his recipe with me?”

“I’ll ask him after school!” She replies excitedly.

“Thank you, Alice. That would be great.”

“Can I check this book out?” Alice asks, jumping to the next topic that fires in her brain.

“Of course you can!” I reach out a hand and help her to her feet, watching as she gathers a couple of books and carries them to my desk. After her books are checked out and the lunch bell rings, I send Alice back to class, watching as she disappears down the hall and my next students come in. I have four or five every lunch period that opt to spend time in the library rather than spend recess on the playground, but none are as consistent – or excited – as Alice. I look forward to her company each day. And on Monday nights, at soccer practice, I look forward to seeing her dad.

My computer rings with a video call as I get changed and ready for practice tonight, and as soon as I accept the call Molly starts in as if our previous conversation never ended.

“Gotta say Ems, I’m not loving this look,” Molly grins at me through the screen as I bend to tie my shoes. “Is this a soccer practice night?”

“Sure is.”

“What about you? When do you start practicing again?”

“Molly, we’re not having this conversation now.”

“Emma…”

“Gotta go, Molly. Don’t want to be late for practice.”

Closing my computer, I grab my bag and make my way out the door, my knee twinging a bit as I slide into my car, but all thoughts of my career and future drift away when I pull up to the field and see Jax kicking the ball around with his girls. And suddenly a new picture of what life could be like is at the forefront as I get ready for practice.