First Surrender (Chance Encounters #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Natalie

A fter talking to Dec, I learned exactly how well Jackson handled the situation at the school. Dec and I have always been close so I know he was being honest about everything. From Jackson yelling at the principal, to holding him while he cried, and then taking him to the coolest barber in town to fix his hair.

The guilt has been eating at me since then. My hormones have been off the charts. I cried while Dec told me what happened. I’ve cried myself to sleep almost every night since I found out I was pregnant.

My OB appointment confirmed that I’m almost five weeks along based on my last period. She still encouraged me to get scheduled for an ultrasound at the free clinic to confirm the timeline.

It’s after midnight but I stayed up to apologize to Jackson. I hate saying sorry, it’s my least favorite word in my vocabulary, but he deserves an apology. He took care of Dec when I couldn’t and it’s the only thing that matters to me more than my pride.

He drops his keys on the counter, the loud clatter echoing in the silent house. “I’m not in the mood, Natalie.” He turns to start down the hallway.

“Jackson. Please.”

His steps halt but he doesn’t turn back toward me yet. His chin drops to his chest and he takes a deep breath before he finally comes back to stand at the kitchen island, completely avoiding eye contact with me. I take it as my queue to keep going, anyway.

“Dec told me everything that happened. Thank you for taking care of him. I will never be able to express how much it means to me.” I take a deep breath to ward off the tears burning my eyes. These stupid hormones have turned me into a baby and I hate it. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and for doubting you. I am so, so sorry.” My voice breaks and he finally looks at me, right as the first tear rolls down my cheek.

He watches it travel the length of my jaw but then his eyes remain downcast. He doesn’t want to look at me. I’ve finally done it. I’ve managed to push him away. He doesn’t even want to argue with me anymore.

“I understand that you’re angry at me and I deserve it. I don’t deserve the nice things that you’ve done for me. I know I’m a fuck up. From here on out, you won’t have to deal with me. I’ll cook and take care of Dec. I won’t step on your toes or get on your nerves anymore. At least, not on purpose.” I slide off the bar stool on trembling knees, hoping he’ll say something. Anything.

He doesn’t.

The dam doesn’t release until I crawl into bed. I can’t tell him that I’m pregnant with his baby. He’ll resent me for the rest of my life. Resent what we made.

He’ll only ever hate the thing that is half of me.

I sob into my pillow until I lose consciousness.

The entire weekend passes and I don’t get out of bed.

Part of it is the sudden exhaustion that I’ve convinced myself is a pregnancy symptom. Part of it is a pathetic state of depression. I don’t want to go into Jackson’s kitchen or living room and say something that will anger him. I don’t want to do anything that will put Dec’s living situation in jeopardy.

There’s only a month and a half left of the school year. If we can make it to summer, I’ll start over then. I’ll find us somewhere new to live in his school district. I’ll get a new job. I’ll figure it out.

I don’t know, maybe I can make it as a private cook without a culinary certification. I’d only need a few people to take a chance on me.

Jackson did but look where that’s gotten me. Feeling sorry for myself while I watch reality TV reruns in a bed that isn’t mine. Too sick to my stomach with nerves to eat.

Maybe when I go to the free clinic for my ultrasound they’ll have information on programs that will help single mothers. I mean, that’s what I’ll be. There is no way that Jackson would take one look at my baby and love it.

“Alright, that’s it.” The voice that booms from the hallway makes me startle. “Are you sick? Do I need to call someone?”

I stare at him for more than a few seconds, trying to make sense of what he’s asking me. His arms are crossed as he stares back at me with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“You’ve been in bed for three days. I’ve never seen you stay still for more than thirty minutes.”

That can’t be true. “It’s only been two days,” I correct him.

“No, it’s Monday.”

“What?!” I screech, launching out of the bed. How did I lose track of time?

“School. Oh My God! Dec!” I scream into the expanse of the universe, frantically searching for pants.

“I made sure he got on the bus this morning.”

“What?”

“Stop saying what.”

“Why didn’t either of you wake me up?” I pause what I’m doing, a pair of shorts dangling from my fingers.

“Because we voted and neither of us wanted to wake the sleeping bear. I also wasn’t sure if you were sick and wanted Dec to stay clear.”

“I’m not sick.” Not yet at least. It might only be a matter of time.

“Okay. I’m going to make lunch.” He disappears from my doorway.

“It’s already lunch time,” I whisper to myself. Holy shit. I need to snap out of it, I cannot live this way.

It isn’t until I pull on my weathered athletic shorts I’ve probably had since middle school that I realize what Jackson said. He’s going to make lunch?

Nope. That man is not going to suddenly enjoy the art of cooking and put me out of my job. I run to the kitchen and gasp when I see him throwing random ingredients into a pan. A super nice stainless steel pan that needs to be heated properly before it’s used or everything will burn.

“Stop. Jackson. Stop.” I reach for the handle of the pan but he moves it out of my way. “You’ll ruin it.”

“It’s a pan.”

“It’s a nice pan, nicer than I’ve ever had. Don’t mess with it unless you know what you’re doing.” I reach again but he moves it out of my reach again. The jolly green giant has a great advantage over me. “Please!”

I watch his eyes widen slightly with my use of the p-word and victory sweeps over him. This asshole. He leaves the pan on the stovetop and backs away with a sweeping motion with his hands as if saying, “All yours.”

“This was very unnecessary,” I grumble.

“Nah. I think it was necessary. Now that I got the taste of hearing you say please, I like it just as much as I like arguing with you.”

My head whips toward where he’s taken a seat at the island. The last time he told me how much he liked my anger, we had a catastrophic night in his office.

“Don’t get used to it,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say.

“I wouldn’t dare, fireball.”

“I don’t know what that nickname means, so don’t do that either.” I turn back to my tasks at the stove, thankful that all he dumped in the pan were precut veggies that I had in the fridge already. I can make quick work of them.

“Who’s shirt is that?” He asks from behind me.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs in an exasperated tone. I have a smart remark ready but I’m trying to behave, so I ignore him.

I have a big ask of him and I need to be on his good side to do it. After a few moments of silence, I ask him if he wants a drink from the fridge but he only stares at me in confusion.

I grab myself a coke because I need it. Somehow I know that the caffeine will give me strength but I take my time popping the tab open in the silent kitchen and pouring it into a glass. “I have a favor to ask. Feel free to say no, but I have to ask anyway.”

He nods for me to continue as his eyes assess me.

“Dec’s 8th birthday is in two weeks and I was wondering if you would be okay with me inviting a few of his friends from school over for a few hours. Not this Saturday but next. The other moms will probably come and stay. I guess that’s standard, I don’t know. My mom always dumped me at any parties I wanted to go to until they stopped inviting me.” I’m rambling but I can’t seem to stop.

“I’ll clean up before and after, and you won’t even know it happened. You can come or leave for the day if you don’t want to be around a bunch of crazy boys. Up to you.”

He stares at me, not acknowledging my request and I wonder if I was talking too fast for him to interpret what I said until he goes, “Huh.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sometimes I forget that you were a kid once.” He squints his eyes as if trying to imagine it.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know, I guess I assumed you started your life as an angsty teenager and got more rage-filled from there,” he says dismissively, shrugging.

He’s doing this on purpose. He’s trying to rile me up. I can see it in the way he’s tilting his head arrogantly.

“My rage stemmed from very early childhood trauma and progressed from there. Nice try though.”

He laughs and it shocks me. A deep and loud laugh that I’d never heard before. I think I’ve entered the wrong dimension. This is not the same man who yelled at me the other night and then ignored my apology.

“You can have Dec’s party here. I don’t care. What are you going to get him?”

“Um. I don’t know yet. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but I’m so worried about disappointing him that I haven’t pulled the trigger on anything.”

“I think he wants a bike.”

“I know that, but how’d you know that?”

“He told me he wants to learn how to ride a bike.”

My finger taps the spatula I’m using rhythmically against the pan, thinking. “I was going to get him one. I saved up but had to use the money to get him new clothes after the fire instead.”

“We’ll go in on one, from the both of us,” he offers, generously. On one hand, I hate to get any more help from him than I already have. On the other, getting a bike for Dec is important and his happiness is the only thing that really matters to me.

“Are you going to teach him how to ride it, safely? I haven’t ridden a bike since I was probably Dec’s age. My only bike was from a garage sale. It was stolen from our driveway and I never got a new one.”

He stares at me briefly, in concerned disbelief over my childhood misfortune, before responding. “Of course, I will.”

“Okay. We’ll get him a bike.” We might as well have shaken hands and called a truce.