I laugh. “You’ve always been great at test taking.”
“I know, but this is not high school. Things are even more fast-paced, and there’s a lot to juggle. I didn’t realize how much I took for granted like your meals, a washer and dryer in my home, and a mom who didn’t mind helping me out when I got swamped
.”
I smile as I listen to her share growing pains. “It is a big adjustment. Give yourself a little more time, and it’ll seem like second nature. Other than that are you alright?”
“I am. I think this was the right place for me.”
We continue to catch up as I start dinner for me and Jagger. He’s over my place more than not, and he calls me if he won’t be coming home. Home. Funny how he’s become including in that thought. The intensity between us has increased since the night of our first fight. I did some research on relationships with people who grew up in foster care. They often deal with their experiences in one of two ways. One, they keep others at a distance, or two, they almost smoother them with their need to be around them, be the focus of their attention, etc. It’s an issue that leads to problems later in life. Everyone is different, but this was a recurring theme. I’d say Jagger hovers in the middle.
I know it’s his habit to hold people at bay, but it’s never been the way he acted with me. I worry that one day he’ll revert to his old behaviors. But I refuse to borrow trouble. We’ll continue to take things as they come.
“I should go, Mom. I have a group project meeting soon.”
“Okay, baby. It was good talking to you. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. I love you, Mom.”
“Love you too.”
When the phone rings a few minutes later, I laugh. She must’ve forgotten to tell me something. The number flashing on the screen sucks the joy out of me. It’s Detective Russel. I want to ignore him, but I don’t make a habit of being stupid.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Birling?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to let you know that lead we had ended up being a false alarm. We chased it down until it deadened.”
“So, he- he’s not in town?”
“Not to the best of our knowledge.”
“O-Okay. Thank you, Detective Russel.”
The words loosen the worry about Brooks popping up. The man isn’t coming back here. He has no reason to. The risks of getting caught must out weight his chance at a second shot at me, if that’s even what he’d want. I can’t live my life in fear of what may happen. I have too many good things to focus on now.
I finish prepping the lasagna and pop it into the oven as I move to the bedroom to change into casual clothing. I pause in the bedroom and marvel at how ours it’s become. His cologne, comb, and ponytail holders join my perfume and bobby pins on the dresser. The bed set is now a gray and white plaid set we both agreed on. My closet and drawers are crammed with his things added to my own, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I change into blue jean shorts, and a tank top, and head back to open a beer.
I have a salad chopped, Garlic bread in the oven, and two beers down when the door opens.
“You’re looking at the newest member of The Kings of Chaos San Mateo Charter, baby. It’s official. This is home.”
The words slam into me, and I scream as I run toward him. He lifts me off the ground, and I wind my limbs tight as if I could anchor us both to this moment in time. I cover his mouth with mine and share my joy with tongue and lips. He holds me under my ass and slants his mouth over mine, deepening our kiss. He’s all I can taste and breathe as we celebrate. We part for air, and I laugh.
“Welcome, home.”
He kicks the door shut, and spins me to lock it with one hand while continuing to support me. I trail my fingers down his biceps, admiring the flex of muscles.
“We got a party to go to tonight to celebrate.”
“Wait, tonight?”
“It’s tradition.”
“Okay.” My stomach flips. I’ve been to smaller events, Baby showers, family days, and the like, but I’ve never seen the club in all its glory. “Guess who starts her new job in a week.”