I’m mostly confused that my stomach flutters—I think.
I drop my hand, ignoring what’s come over me. “I mean, the baseball bat you sent last year? The cleats? The backpacks and too many toys since he was born to even keep track of?”
He smiles as Jacob asks, “Do you want to play Minecraft, Dax? I already finished my homework, and I haven’t played video games yet. Mom said I get a half hour every day. Then, we can play Legos.”
“How did you already finish your homework? You’ve been playing in the yard since you got home.” I put my hands on my hips.
“I didn’t have too much. I did it when you were on the computer upstairs. I promise, I finished.” His eyes are wide and unwavering. He’s never lied to me about it before, so I believe him.
I nod toward the living room TV. “Go. Play and have fun. I’ll get dinner started. I’m making spaghetti and a Greek salad that Andrew served the other day at the winery. You have to try it. You’ll love it.” I say the last part mostly to Dax, whose eyes light up. Spaghetti is his favorite.
Some things never change.
Like favorite foods and how good Dax is at video games, even though he never has time to play anymore.
As I cook, I hear so much giggling and yelling at the screen. It’s obvious the only reason Dax keeps up with the current trends and lingo is for Jacob. The guy doesn’t have time to even go grocery shopping—I’ve seen the Amazon Pantry boxes at his place—let alone learn the jargon of Minecraft.
The thought that he cares so much about Jacob warms my heart as I finish cutting tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad. Once I’m done, I toss them in a big mixing bowl with Kalamata olives, chopped green onions, and feta cheese crumbles. I then pour olive oil and red wine vinegar, add oregano and salt like Andrew showed me, and mix it all together.
“Food’s ready, guys,” I call out. Before I know it, they stomp into the kitchen like a stampede. “Hey, hey, hey. Easy. It’s just us. You don’t have to fight off zombies for spaghetti.”
“There aren’t zombies in Minecraft. Not in our game, anyway,” Jacob says matter-of-factly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You’ll have to give me a rundown of what it is, then.” I grab plates and silverware for the table.
“We worked up quite the appetite in there, huh? Well done, buddy.” Dax places his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, lightly squeezing, and my heart is ready to burst.
I pause with the cutlery in my hands, watching their interaction. Their strong bond.
“What?” Dax asks me as he grabs the plates from me.
“Nothing. I’m just…” I peer over his shoulder at Jacob, who’s already stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth. “Thank you. Means a lot to have you around to do all the boyish things with him.”
“I like hanging out with him. Plus, I finally have a good reason to play video games.” He winks, then helps me set the table like the gentleman he is.
“Thanks for helping, Dax.”
“No,” Jacob says. “That’s not Dax. He’s Foreman now, and I’m the architect. Respect the rules of the game.”
“Oh?” My eyebrows shoot up, and Dax laughs, a sound that could cure even the loneliest hearts—like mine. “I’m sorry, Sir Architect. Please forgive me.”
Jacob groans, dropping his bite of spaghetti on his plate. “Mom, you don’t put Sir in front of Minecraft nicknames.”
“Seems like I should stop trying to learn and leave the video games to you two then.”
“Yeah, it’ll be a guys’ thing.” Jacob proudly fist-bumps Dax.
Dax takes a bite and groans. “I miss home-cooked meals. Your mom’s casseroles are great, but this pasta, hot off the stove”—he points to his spaghetti with his fork—“this is what food from angels must taste like.”
“Why does Grandma bring you food? You don’t cook for yourself?” Jacob stares at Dax, genuinely confused.
Dax wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Sadly, my cooking looks and tastes like a pile of dirt. Your grandma took pity on me years ago and helps me out every few weeks, so I have healthy meals to eat after work.”
“At the hospital? Where you save people?”
“Exactly.”
“What about your own mom? Do you have a dad? Why don’t they cook for you?”
I slow my chewing, and the hairs on my arms stick up. Jacob hasn’t asked about Dax’s parents in a while. He obviously doesn’t remember the few times he has over the years. “Honey,” I start, but Dax places his hand on my arm to stop me.
He takes a deep breath and says, “Well, big guy, I did have a mom and dad. They were funny and nice, and my mom was a great cook, just like your mom and grandma. But my dad was as lousy a cook as I am.”
He giggles. “Can I meet them? Why don’t they come here?”
“I wish you could, Jacob. They would’ve loved to meet you, but I lost them many years ago.”
My throat closes up, but Dax doesn’t seem uncomfortable. He doesn’t shift in his seat or hesitate. He calmly talks with Jacob, and I imagine he might talk in a similar way to his patients to keep them at ease.
“Like I lost my dad?” Jacob’s mouth forms a tight line, and his innocent eyes wait for an answer.
His young mind tries to reconcile what’s going on.
I clear my throat and go into protective mode like I’ve been doing for months. I open my mouth to say something that might dissipate the hurt in Jacob’s eyes, but Dax beats me to it again.
“Yes.” Dax sets his fork down with a soft clink. “But you know what? Your dad and my parents left behind a lot of good memories for us. I have stories of them all to fill a book. Would you like to hear them sometime?”
Jacob nods enthusiastically.
“It’s a deal, but now, we should finish
