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ACID REFLUX

QUINN

The next day I arrive at Jack’s house to an eerie stillness that isn’t typical for a weekday morning. The usual sounds of him up and about preparing to leave for work are absent when I enter through the front door.

I make my way to the laundry room first, plagued by a sense of anxious dread that I can’t shake. Part of my routine is to take care of Kronk before I switch over to nanny duties, but the dog crate that we agreed to keep in here is empty.

I open the back door and quickly scan the yard. My perusal pauses when my eyes land on where I left Kronk’s food and water bowls a few days ago. The utilitarian setup has been replaced with a white oak dog feeding station shaped like a fucking bone. His silver bowls are nestled in their respective openings and I have to do a double take because, for the love of all things canine, there is a literal battery-operated clip-on fan attached to the edge. Despite how ridiculously heartwarming this would be any other time, the yard is also empty, and a lump forms in my throat.

I suck in a deep breath and try to center myself; I am overreacting, this is just my anxiety. Jack probably took Kronk for a walk, it’s fine. Not something he has done before that I know of, but it is the only explanation I can think of that doesn’t make me want to cry.

I can’t settle until I know for sure, so I race quietly up the stairs and peek into Sienna’s room to find her still asleep in her crib. That helps none at all because Jack wouldn’t have left her alone to walk Kronk, so there’s a solid chance that Kronk somehow figured his way out of the fence. My heart beats wildly at the possibility of that.

It likely goes beyond a comfortable level of propriety, but I close Sienna’s door and make my way to the end of the long hallway where I know Jack’s bedroom is. I’m in such a panic I forget to knock and realize a second too late that he could be naked or something in here, fresh out of the shower since it is time for him to leave for work soon.

That’s not what I find.

Jack is sprawled out on top of his big, poofy comforter, Kronk laying on his arm with his head on a freaking pillow. There is a puddle of drool by his snout, and neither of them stirs.

My dog is apparently not a very good guard dog. That coupled with the fact he’s never met a stranger he didn’t consider his best friend should probably be cause for concern.

I am not sure who I am more jealous of; Jack because he is sleeping with my dog—which is something I have never been able to do—or Kronk because he’s pressed against Jack’s hard, shirtless body.

My gaze wanders over the shelves of books that line the walls. Most catch my attention with their bland titles, centered around criminal psychology, serial homicide, and other macabre subject matter. Probably not bland for someone who doesn't study those types of things day in and day out, but very fitting given Jack’s profession.

I can’t help but wonder if he ever reads for pleasure and if he does, what type of books he’s interested in. It’s probably not werewolf erotica, but I’m sure we have other things in common. Maybe Poe? I am versatile like that.

The sound of Sienna’s morning babbles fills the room through the monitor on his nightstand, and my eyes are drawn to the thing next to it that looks suspiciously like a sex toy. This suspicion is confirmed by the bottle of lube next to that , and I did not need to know what type of assistance my professor uses when he strokes his cock.

This is not an image I need in my head, and I am going to replace it with something more savory.

As soon as I think of what that might be that would suffice.

Sienna’s cute baby sounds are more than enough to wake him. He is bleary-eyed as he attempts to sit up in bed and realizes Kronk is still passed out on his arm. He spots me witnessing their entanglement and is momentarily surprised.

“I thought you’d be up by now and panicked when I couldn’t find Kronk. I’m sorry, I’ll just—” I start to step out, but at the sound of his name Kronk pops up and hops off the bed to come to my side.

Jack rubs his eyes, then gives me a sleepy, sheepish look. “I felt so bad for him sleeping in that crate, all uncomfy with no pillow.”

Jack loves hard, which is a scary thing because I’m growing attracted to more than just his looks. “He can’t have a pillow because he will eat it.”

“I know, I know. But he didn’t try to eat mine, so that’s a plus.” He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, his corded hamstrings pulling my eyes directly to them because he’s only wearing boxers.

This is not helping me to stop imagining him touching himself.

Kronk tippy taps around my feet, signaling that he’s ready to go outside. “I’m going to let him out and I’ll grab Sienna.”

“Thanks, I’ve overslept.”

I would probably oversleep too snuggled up to this warm fuzzy boy. I scratch the top of Kronk’s head and turn to leave, but he has other plans.

He hops back up on the bed and off the other side, snatching the stroker from Jack’s nightstand and trotting back over to me with it like he wants to play fetch.

In his defense, it really does look like a dog toy. Maybe not one that Kronk has ever owned, since I usually buy him horse toys—those are the only ones he doesn’t destroy right away. But still, it definitely resembles a dog toy.

Jack panics, following quickly behind him, and when I instinctively go to snatch it from Kronk’s jaws, he grabs my bicep to try and stop me.

A sudden jolt of pain courses through my arm, causing a prickling sensation that lingers. I recoil from him, wondering why it hurts so much. I have a small raised scar near my shoulder from when I had a lipoma removed as a child. I don’t remember the surgery because it was very minor and so long ago. It has always been irritating, but never painful.

I try to hide the fact that anything is amiss because I don’t want him to feel bad for accidentally hurting me in his panic—it’s not like he grabbed me all that hard—but he isn’t paying attention anyway because now he’s playing tug of war with my dog and his sex toy is the rope.

“Kronk! Nech to! ” Jack surprises me with the Czech command.

I can’t stop myself from smiling, and Kronk releases it immediately, sending Jack stumbling backwards a few steps before he regains his balance and very awkwardly chucks the toy into his bathroom and slams the door shut before my dog can chase after it.

“I’ll just—” I am trying so hard not to laugh. I jerk my head toward the exit so Kronk will follow me. “Yeah.”

I duck out, closing the door behind me, and Kronk barrels down the staircase like a maniac, wearing a path in the hardwood on his way to the back door.

I am thankful to be outside for a minute because inside was… a lot.

I take only a moment to regain my composure because I need to grab Sienna, and I arrive at her bedroom door just in time for Jack to step into the hallway half-dressed, buttoning his pale blue dress shirt. He proceeds to roll up the sleeves at his forearms and I stand frozen because I need him to not do that.

His demeanor has completely shifted from mild embarrassment to complete nonchalance, so I guess we are going to ignore what just happened.

Fine by me.

For now.

I make a mental note to tease him about it later.

“Need something?” He is the picture of innocence but I feel as if there is an evil smirk hidden beneath the layer of ingenuousness etched on his face.

There is no way he doesn’t know what he does to me. He probably has this effect on everyone. Is he being extra hot on purpose? Because if so, that’s fucking rude.

“Nope.” The word comes out more strangled than I would like, and I am thankful for the feral scream that Sienna releases to let me know I’m taking too long.

My mood shifts when her sweet smiley face comes into view, and it’s easy for me to push the other thoughts aside. While she is the reason for our forced proximity, she is also a very good buffer.

I change and dress her, and by the time we make it to the kitchen for breakfast, Jack is nursing a steaming cup of coffee. I suppress a groan and I’m not sure if it’s because of the smell of coffee or the fact that he hasn’t put his jacket on yet and I can see the outline of every muscle in his back when he turns away from me to grab his toast that’s just popped out of the toaster.

With Sienna resting on my hip, I turn away from him and head to the other side of the kitchen where her bottles and formula are. I mix one up quickly. As I wait for it to warm up, I sense Jack’s gaze on me from across the room, his eyes boring into my back as if reading my inappropriate thoughts.

Sienna twists her fingers in my hair and when I look down at her she’s smiling up at me like I’m the only other person who exists in the world. I kiss her forehead and gently pinch her chubby cheek. “I love you, pretty girl.”

I take her bottle from the warmer and pop it in her mouth. She accepts it greedily and when I finally turn to face Jack again, there is a softness in his expression that causes a fissure to open somewhere deep in the left side of my chest.

To be adored by a parent is not something I am familiar with, and regardless of my age, the longing has not lessened over the years. My thoughts go to my mother and how visiting her now might mend the broken parts of our relationship, but I remind myself that I was not the one who damaged it to begin with and it is not my responsibility to fix it, especially not simply because she’s on her death bed.

I will stick to the daily calls I make to her nurse.

Those are sterile. Manageable.

I need therapy.

I force a smile despite the tightness in my throat, and he clears his.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” He walks toward me and rests the back of his hand against my forehead. “You’re flushed.”

Yeah, that happens when I feel like I could vomit. Usually when I think about either of my parents. Particularly lately. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sienna interprets this as playtime. She coos and smiles around the nipple of her bottle, milk dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

We are crowded against the counter, and I am thankful to have her between us. Jack’s presence is suffocating, his large frame filling the space, his nearness sucking out all the air. A familiar warmth crawls up my throat.

“Is it okay if I take Sienna out for lunch today? I thought it might be good for both of us to get out of the house for a bit.” I abruptly change the subject to the first thing that pops into my head and focus on feeding her to avoid his gaze.

He steps to the side to retrieve a travel mug from the cabinet next to my head and I hold in the sigh of relief that threatens to spill from my mouth. “Sure. I’ll leave my car for you.”

My face twists in confusion because he already installed a car seat in my car in case of emergencies. “Why would you do that? How will you get to work?”

“I would feel better if you took my car.” He grabs his keys from the island and holds them up, making sure I see where he’s leaving them—as if it would be an issue for me to find something sitting right in front of my face. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m already late, I’ll hitch a ride with Ezra.”

I recognize the name because Ezra Birkner is also one of my professors. “That seems like an unnecessary inconvenience for both of you when I have my car to take.”

“It’s no big deal. We carpool often.” He’s not looking me in the eye now, seemingly preoccupied with filling his mug with coffee while simultaneously typing something on his phone—a text to Professor Birkner, I assume.

Yet, I can’t help but feel that he is deliberately trying to avoid looking at me, and then it dawns on me. “You think my car is unsafe.”

Come to think of it, Jack has had everything I could possibly need delivered since the day I started. At first I thought it was because he was thoughtful, but now I am wondering if it might be because he doesn't want me to have to drive her anywhere.

He opens the fridge and pulls out a container of creamer, still not making eye contact. “No. I know your car is unsafe.”

“It is not .” I am genuinely offended. I worked hard to save up all five thousand dollars I paid for that car. It was my first real grownup purchase. I realize it’s not the nicest, but it is reliable and I have it serviced regularly.

Now he looks at me. “Quinn. If someone hits you in that thing, there’s a solid chance it’ll end up a twisted hunk of metal.”

Sienna is finished with her bottle now. I place it on the countertop more roughly than I intend and the sound of it smacking against the granite cuts through the space between us. “It was a Consumer Reports top safety pick, thank you very much. ”

“Yeah.” He puts the creamer back in the fridge, wholly unaffected by my small outburst, and turns to face me. “In 2005.”

I release a sound of indignation. Sienna takes it as an opportunity to take my bottom row of teeth into her tiny fist and yank downward. I gently remove her hand and kiss her fingers. “My jaw does not unhinge, cutie girl. Quinny is not a boa constrictor, but thank you for trying.”

Jack snorts a laugh as he comes over to kiss her chunky cheek before heading toward the door. “Take my car. I’ll see you both around five.”

The door closes behind him and I’m left to stew in my own annoyance. I’m charmed that he is so attentive and caring, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to stop somewhere for window chalk so I can draw a giant peen on his back window.

My car is fine .

And whatever the slime that’s oozing and swirling in my stomach right now, it’s not because I’m smitten.

It’s hyperacidity.

Or something.