throat and unbuckle my seatbelt. Popping the door open, I say over my shoulder, “Nothing. Just tired.”
Brody follows me to the trunk, but stops me before I can grab a dish and walk away. With a hand on my arm, he stalls my lean into the van and cuts right in front of where I’m about to grab. He sits on the bumper as I straighten and try to cross my arms. Brody’s lip twitches as he grabs my hands.
“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty girl.”
I slip the sunglasses off his nose and put them on to conceal my eyes.
“Do you even remember what that first fight was about?” I ask as he takes my hands again when I try to cross my arms.
“Mmm.” He nods as if he just figured out the clues to my mood. “Yeah. I remember it all. It’s engraved into my head, I went over it so many times.”
I look to the side and mumble, “Such stupid kids we were . I was.”
“Hey.” Brody stands up and cups my face in his palms. “You said it yourself. I may have issues with how it all went down, but you’ve got amazing kids because of it.”
I nod as I turn to look over my shoulder, him following my movement and backing me up against the frame of the van. My eyes are watching the kids on the tire swing hanging from the huge oak in the front yard. I immediately see Jet on the swing.
Brody starts talking, and I hear him. I do. But my attention is on checking the kids out of habit. “We were each other’s firsts, going through the pains of being a teenager and dealing with hormones. Both of us. But looking back at it, you have to agree we didn’t know shit about anything. Let’s just move forward, yeah?”
I watch Jet try to stand up on the swing.
“Jet, don’t do it,” I say softly.
Brody holds my jaw and gives me a hard, chaste kiss on the mouth. I break it and move my head to the side so that I can see my son. He says something else, joking about me not even listening to him, and he’s right. Because my son is trying to stand up on the tire that’s swinging from the huge branch overhead.
“Jet. Jet, sit down.”
“What?”
“JET!”
I see Jet’s foot slip on the tire in his tractionless shoes. Before I’m aware of what I’m doing, I push Brody away from my body, catching him unaware. He stumbles to the side, but my focus is on my baby, falling to the hard packed earth below.
I run. I take off in my maxi dress that I thought was so pretty. I don’t think about anything but getting to him. My feet move without thought, my heart in my throat as I race to his still body on the ground.
“Jet!” I yell, the sound of his name escaping my throat on a roar, nothing mattering in that moment but my son. In a blur, someone passes me, getting to my baby first.
I want to rip their hands off of him as they hold his head still. I collapse in a cloud of dust and slide to him, pulling ineffectively at the arms holding him. “Baby, baby. Talk to me, Jet,” I say over and over, my hands and arms inspecting him for broken bones and contusions.
The longest moments of my life stretch on before I see beautiful blue eyes flutter to stare me in the face. “Momma.”
I wilt. My arms almost give out as my heart beats in my throat.
“Are you okay? Tell me what hurts, baby?” I ask shakily, my arms not stopping their movements over his arms and legs.
Strong arms try to take me away, pull me from my examination, but I shrug them off. “What is it, tell me?”
“Momma. You’re freaking out,” I hear above my shoulder. I don’t bother to look back.
“Tell me what hurts, Jet. Tell me.”
Jet rolls his eyes back into his head, making my heart stop before I hear, “Momma. I’m okay. You’re hurting me. Let me go.”
I blink and my son is shrugging away from me. I feel almost hurt, myself. Why is he pushing me away? Doesn’t he need me?
“Jules. Baby, he’s okay.” I look up, Brody’s hazel eyes, more brown than green, bore into me. I shake my head.
“Can you move your fingers and
Brody follows me to the trunk, but stops me before I can grab a dish and walk away. With a hand on my arm, he stalls my lean into the van and cuts right in front of where I’m about to grab. He sits on the bumper as I straighten and try to cross my arms. Brody’s lip twitches as he grabs my hands.
“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty girl.”
I slip the sunglasses off his nose and put them on to conceal my eyes.
“Do you even remember what that first fight was about?” I ask as he takes my hands again when I try to cross my arms.
“Mmm.” He nods as if he just figured out the clues to my mood. “Yeah. I remember it all. It’s engraved into my head, I went over it so many times.”
I look to the side and mumble, “Such stupid kids we were . I was.”
“Hey.” Brody stands up and cups my face in his palms. “You said it yourself. I may have issues with how it all went down, but you’ve got amazing kids because of it.”
I nod as I turn to look over my shoulder, him following my movement and backing me up against the frame of the van. My eyes are watching the kids on the tire swing hanging from the huge oak in the front yard. I immediately see Jet on the swing.
Brody starts talking, and I hear him. I do. But my attention is on checking the kids out of habit. “We were each other’s firsts, going through the pains of being a teenager and dealing with hormones. Both of us. But looking back at it, you have to agree we didn’t know shit about anything. Let’s just move forward, yeah?”
I watch Jet try to stand up on the swing.
“Jet, don’t do it,” I say softly.
Brody holds my jaw and gives me a hard, chaste kiss on the mouth. I break it and move my head to the side so that I can see my son. He says something else, joking about me not even listening to him, and he’s right. Because my son is trying to stand up on the tire that’s swinging from the huge branch overhead.
“Jet. Jet, sit down.”
“What?”
“JET!”
I see Jet’s foot slip on the tire in his tractionless shoes. Before I’m aware of what I’m doing, I push Brody away from my body, catching him unaware. He stumbles to the side, but my focus is on my baby, falling to the hard packed earth below.
I run. I take off in my maxi dress that I thought was so pretty. I don’t think about anything but getting to him. My feet move without thought, my heart in my throat as I race to his still body on the ground.
“Jet!” I yell, the sound of his name escaping my throat on a roar, nothing mattering in that moment but my son. In a blur, someone passes me, getting to my baby first.
I want to rip their hands off of him as they hold his head still. I collapse in a cloud of dust and slide to him, pulling ineffectively at the arms holding him. “Baby, baby. Talk to me, Jet,” I say over and over, my hands and arms inspecting him for broken bones and contusions.
The longest moments of my life stretch on before I see beautiful blue eyes flutter to stare me in the face. “Momma.”
I wilt. My arms almost give out as my heart beats in my throat.
“Are you okay? Tell me what hurts, baby?” I ask shakily, my arms not stopping their movements over his arms and legs.
Strong arms try to take me away, pull me from my examination, but I shrug them off. “What is it, tell me?”
“Momma. You’re freaking out,” I hear above my shoulder. I don’t bother to look back.
“Tell me what hurts, Jet. Tell me.”
Jet rolls his eyes back into his head, making my heart stop before I hear, “Momma. I’m okay. You’re hurting me. Let me go.”
I blink and my son is shrugging away from me. I feel almost hurt, myself. Why is he pushing me away? Doesn’t he need me?
“Jules. Baby, he’s okay.” I look up, Brody’s hazel eyes, more brown than green, bore into me. I shake my head.
“Can you move your fingers and
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