Jensen
PRESENT
I grimacedas I swallowed a mouthful of coffee. I hated coffee, but I was desperate. I needed all the caffeine I could get these days, and I would take it in whatever form was the most potent.
Footsteps thundered on the stairs. Noah swung around the corner, almost taking out a vase of flowers on his way.
“Hey there, Speed Racer, what’s with the zero to sixty?”
Noah’s adorable little nose twitched. “Do I smell pancakes?”
I grinned. “You do.”
Noah threw his arms around me, his face burrowing into my belly. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. It’s not even the weekend.”
I soaked up his easy affection. I knew it wouldn’t always be this way. At nine years old, he’d soon be too cool to tell me that he loved me or to give me a hug. He’d be asking me to drop him off down the block from school instead of right out in front. So, I would try to create as many of these moments as possible, no matter how little sleep I got. And I would do everything I could to hold onto the feel of his little-boy arms wrapped around me.
I ruffled Noah’s hair. “What do you think? Banana and chocolate chip?” This earned me his beaming smile and an enthusiastic nod. “You make sure your backpack is all ready to go and then head to the table.”
Noah took off down the hall. He had two speeds—full-out, and slow as molasses. Pancakes meant full-out. “Mom, I can’t find my hat.”
“Did you check in your karate bag?” Our house wasn’t large, only two bedrooms and a den, so there were a limited number of options as to where things could hide. But Noah always amazed me with how he could lose stuff. I let my gaze travel over the space that was supposed to be temporary, wondering if it was time for us to find somewhere new.
The house wasn’t even really mine. It was the guest cottage a few hundred feet from the ranch house that was home to my parents and grandmother. When I’d gotten pregnant, this had seemed like the perfect setup. Close to help and support. But now, I wondered if it was just pathetic that I still basically lived at home.
Noah charged back into the kitchen. “Found it!” He pulled the hat over his head as he scooted onto a chair at the kitchen table.
I tilted my head in his direction. “What’s the rule about hats at the table?”
“I just don’t want to lose it again.”
I stifled a giggle. “Hang it on the hook with your coat, then you won’t forget it.”
He looked up at me skeptically as he trudged to the coat hooks by the door, as though the hat might run away on its own, never to be found again.
I plated a stack of pancakes for Noah and a single one for myself and then sat down at the table. Noah immediately began shoveling food into his mouth. “Fank you these are so gooh.” His words were barely intelligible around the food.
I disguised my laugh with a cough. “Why don’t you swallow before you talk, mister?”
Noah took a gulp of milk and grinned, white mustache and all. “I can’t help myself. They’re too good.” He shoved another bite into his mouth.
I cut off a bite for myself. Slowly, I chewed. It tasted like everything else had lately. Bland. No flavor. I wondered if lack of sleep caused all your senses to dull.
I looked over at Noah to find him studying me. “Not hungry?”
I forced a bright smile. “I had some before you came down,” I lied.
Noah’s gaze narrowed, but he nodded, continuing to chow down. My little boy was far too perceptive, and I needed to get my shit together.
A knock came from the front of the house. “Come in,” I called.
The door pushed open to reveal a scowling Walker. “You have no idea who’s there, and you just say, ‘come in?’ And why isn’t your door locked?”
I took another sip of my coffee. “And good morning to you, too, brother dearest.”
Tuck appeared behind him, dark blond hair looking almost brown as though it were still damp from a shower. “Morning, Little J. You got any more of those for me?” he asked, eyeing the pancakes.
I inclined my head towards the platter on the counter. “Help yourself.”
