She laughs and continues rubbing me.
She should be gloating about how I got myself into this situation in the first place, trying to be all macho at her dad’s shop the other day. But instead, she’s kind and gentle. She’s a fucking saint. With tiny, magical hands.
By the time she deems her work complete, I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. I’m tingling all over and not just from the icy heat of the gel. I really never expected that getting rubbed down with muscle ointment was supposed to be sexy. I feel like I understand the whole nurse fantasy now, because fuck, that got me hard. I feel like a perv.
Jessa closes the tube and disappears into my bathroom to wash her hands. I can’t help but be disappointed at the loss.
“Is there anything else you need before I check on Callie and get to bed?” She stands in front of me, blinking those doe eyes.
Oh, I’m sure I can think of a thing or two. I have a different need that’s begging to be taken care of. “No,” I say instead.
She turns and starts up the stairs.
“Jessa?” I call out. Her head swivels in my direction. “Thank you. Y’know, for being so good to Callie and me. You go above and beyond your job here.” My own words wrap around my throat.
“I take it back…” she whispers softly.
“Take what back?” Confused, I examine her face.
“I said I was just doing my job,” she says in a whisper. “I take it back. This is more than just a job for me, Eli.”
My eyes hold hers, willing her to say more. Willing her to tell me what she means by that.
But she doesn’t.
“Good night,” she hums softly, and then she’s gone.
29 Eli
Watching Jessa run around the house all day practically wears me out. Callie and I lounge on the couch reading books and watching movies while Jessa cooks every meal, bringing our trays into the living room. The woman refills our water bottles every two hours on the dot, but not before making us finish every last drop. I want to be annoyed but I can’t. It feels great, being taken care of like this.
After the three of us have an early dinner together in the living room, I force myself up. My legs are killing me from being idle all day. I drop down to the old piano I have pushed up in the corner and I start playing. Gramps taught me to play when I was Callie’s age, so when she approaches a few minutes later, wrapped up in her princess blanket, asking to learn, I’m glad to show her.
For the rest of the evening, I teach Callie the basics. Hand placement. The musical alphabet. I quickly discover that she has a natural talent for replicating the notes I make, and before long, she can play nearly all of Twinkle, Twinkle on her own.
She shoos my hands away, urging me to stop helping. “I got this,” she keeps saying, and it makes my chest tighten.
Damn—she’s getting so big, so fast. It kills me to think of how many important moments I’ve missed but I’m determined to focus on the future. Nothing will ever separate us again.
Callie looks up and catches me staring at her. She wears a confused expression on her perfect little face. “Why are you looking at me, Daddy?”
I smooth a hand down her blonde curls. “Because I love you so much, Cal. Sometimes it feels like my heart is gonna burst.”
I notice Jessa standing in the other room, watching. She thinks she’s being discreet, but I know she’s been keeping a close eye on us this whole time.
My daughter’s gaze drops to the keyboard in front of her. “But you were gone away for so long, Daddy…” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I thought you forgot about me.”
When she says that, it feels like getting my heart twisted by a giant pair of rusty pliers. I lift her tiny face so she’s watching me. “Never,” I assure her. “I never forgot about you. Not for one second. I spent every single day trying to figure out how to get back to you.”
“So why didn’t you come back for so long?” She’s struggling with her words, eyes shiny with tears.
God, how do I explain this to her?
Jessa gives me a discreet nod, encouraging me to carry forward. Even though it’s hard.
“Daddy got in trouble for doing some bad things,” I tell my daughter, praying that I’m not handling this wrong. I just don’t want to lie to her. “I had to go in time-out for a little while. But it’s over now. And I won’t leave you again, Callie.”
“Is Mommy in time-out, too?” she asks innocently, and now, I’m face-to-face with my biggest fear. Trying to explain to Callie what happened with her mother.
The authors of all those top-selling parenting books would probably kick my ass for saying this, but I have to go with the truth. If I ever want my daughter to trust me, I have to be honest with her. “I don’t know where your mommy is, Cal. I’m so sorry. But I do know this. You have me and I love you and you can rely on me to be here for you, always.”
Callie’s lower lip starts to tremble. “Deal?”
I nod, take her little hand in mine and shake it. “Deal,” I promise.
She collapses against my chest. She clenches my shirt in her little fists and her tears soak the fabric. “Mommy sucks!”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” I scoop her up into my arms and hold her to my chest. “I’m still trying to figure out this single dad thing and I’m not always very good at it and I’m not even sure you understand what all that means but I just want you to know this—I love you so very much and I’d do anything for you
