eyes and impish grin as real to her as if he stood in the room. If only he could. The past four weeks had been something well beyond her worst nightmare. The memories pummeled her, of the agony displayed by them all, but most especially Rob. And of course, there was the new-baby-in-the-house thing and the low-grade buzz of complete exhaustion that came with it.
“Jack?” She called out. She gritted her teeth, determined not to need him as badly as she did, recalling their fight the night before over his slow detachment from her. Or, as he put it, “her perception” of his distance,.
“God dammit, Sara, this is not about you, okay? I’m…busy. I’m preoccupied. I’m sorry you don’t get the full force of my attention.”
She had zero understanding of him anymore. In the midst of her personal hell on earth, she did need him. There was no denying it. And he’d been edging away from her, from them all, emotionally. All of the preparation for the loss of one of his closest friends, Blake’s lover, Rob, annihilated by the sadistic hand fate had dealt them—it had seemingly affected Jack in a way she couldn’t comprehend. And that was making him withdraw from their family—because he was holding her at arm’s length, denying he was doing it, all the while his blue eyes snapping with an unfamiliar combination of anger and regret. She bit her lip, determined to keep the tears in check as she walked down the long hall to the kitchen.
Her own mental state was fragile at best, but she had held it together. People needed her—her baby, her daughter, her parents, her friends. She’d rallied into something she would swear Blake would’ve been proud of, only to look up about a week after the accident to find Jack staring at her, his gaze flat. “Are you ever going to really mourn Sara?”
She’d risen from the couch with a finally sleeping Brandis and left the room. How could he possibly not realize that the only thing holding the edges of her sanity together was the forward motion, organization and non-thinking? They hadn’t really talked since that day, when she’d walked away from his unanswered question.
Granted, he maintained a good front for their friends and family and was ever the devoted daddy to Katie. He was even a bit of a baby whisperer with Brandis, taking him at night, giving her the blessed relief of more than three hours of uninterrupted sleep, just enough to keep her from flying apart at the seams. Just barely enough.
She stopped in the door of his study, watching him pore over his latest project. Obtaining, of all things, an expansion major league soccer team for Detroit and building a state of the art facility for them downtown. It had become an obsession. One she didn’t care for at all. He ran his long fingers through his hair, making it stand on end as he turned pages of the latest book on stadium facilities. The computer had the official professional soccer league website pulled up and sat blinking in the otherwise dark room.
His broad shoulders, so loved and familiar, were clad in a soft white tee shirt. Sara bit her lip, held back tears of frustration as his eyes flickered from the computer screen to the book to the legal pad he kept scribbling on. That stupid god damned soccer team project. He’d grabbed hold of the concept when it was suggested to him at a party they’d attended with a bunch of wealthy investors, Michigan State Alumni and Detroit based entrepreneurs. Sara wished she had never heard the words “expansion” or “stadium” or “project” in the same sentence.
Fighting her urge to leave him, let him wallow in the stupid thing until he looked up one day and she no longer cared, she gulped at all the memories of their drama. Their stupid dancing around each other for years had alienated their friends and family and nearly ruined them both. They loved each other. This was simply ridiculous. Her hands itched to touch, to caress, to hold.
She walked to him, put a
“Jack?” She called out. She gritted her teeth, determined not to need him as badly as she did, recalling their fight the night before over his slow detachment from her. Or, as he put it, “her perception” of his distance,.
“God dammit, Sara, this is not about you, okay? I’m…busy. I’m preoccupied. I’m sorry you don’t get the full force of my attention.”
She had zero understanding of him anymore. In the midst of her personal hell on earth, she did need him. There was no denying it. And he’d been edging away from her, from them all, emotionally. All of the preparation for the loss of one of his closest friends, Blake’s lover, Rob, annihilated by the sadistic hand fate had dealt them—it had seemingly affected Jack in a way she couldn’t comprehend. And that was making him withdraw from their family—because he was holding her at arm’s length, denying he was doing it, all the while his blue eyes snapping with an unfamiliar combination of anger and regret. She bit her lip, determined to keep the tears in check as she walked down the long hall to the kitchen.
Her own mental state was fragile at best, but she had held it together. People needed her—her baby, her daughter, her parents, her friends. She’d rallied into something she would swear Blake would’ve been proud of, only to look up about a week after the accident to find Jack staring at her, his gaze flat. “Are you ever going to really mourn Sara?”
She’d risen from the couch with a finally sleeping Brandis and left the room. How could he possibly not realize that the only thing holding the edges of her sanity together was the forward motion, organization and non-thinking? They hadn’t really talked since that day, when she’d walked away from his unanswered question.
Granted, he maintained a good front for their friends and family and was ever the devoted daddy to Katie. He was even a bit of a baby whisperer with Brandis, taking him at night, giving her the blessed relief of more than three hours of uninterrupted sleep, just enough to keep her from flying apart at the seams. Just barely enough.
She stopped in the door of his study, watching him pore over his latest project. Obtaining, of all things, an expansion major league soccer team for Detroit and building a state of the art facility for them downtown. It had become an obsession. One she didn’t care for at all. He ran his long fingers through his hair, making it stand on end as he turned pages of the latest book on stadium facilities. The computer had the official professional soccer league website pulled up and sat blinking in the otherwise dark room.
His broad shoulders, so loved and familiar, were clad in a soft white tee shirt. Sara bit her lip, held back tears of frustration as his eyes flickered from the computer screen to the book to the legal pad he kept scribbling on. That stupid god damned soccer team project. He’d grabbed hold of the concept when it was suggested to him at a party they’d attended with a bunch of wealthy investors, Michigan State Alumni and Detroit based entrepreneurs. Sara wished she had never heard the words “expansion” or “stadium” or “project” in the same sentence.
Fighting her urge to leave him, let him wallow in the stupid thing until he looked up one day and she no longer cared, she gulped at all the memories of their drama. Their stupid dancing around each other for years had alienated their friends and family and nearly ruined them both. They loved each other. This was simply ridiculous. Her hands itched to touch, to caress, to hold.
She walked to him, put a
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