Jaxon

When I get home, my mom is dozing on the couch, an open book dangling from her hand and Simon is out cold, sprawled on the floor in front of the television. I stand in the doorway and look at them.

My mother and my son.

It was my mom’s idea to pass us off as brothers. She was barely into her 30s when Simon was born, and she wanted me to have a life. A childhood. She was seventeen when I was born. She didn’t want me to go through the same thing she did. She didn’t want people to look at me and see the fucked-up kid who had a kid of his own, and she wanted Simon to have a chance. I went along with it all because it was easier and because she was right. Not about me but about Simon. He deserved better, more than I could give him.

But I never thought I was ashamed of any of it before Claire. Every time I looked at her, it was all I could think about. What she would think of me if she knew. Not just about Simon, but about the circumstances of his birth. Someone like her would never want someone like me. Not if she knew the truth.

“You’re home early.”

I look away from Simon to find my mom watching me from the couch.

“Yeah.” I nod, tossing my bike keys into the basket by the front door. “I called Thomas. He took over for me.” We store our rides in the same garage, and he was willing to grab my bike and meet me at Grind to finish out the job. He met me in front of the club, we exchanged keys, and I left Claire standing on the sidewalk.

At least this time I said goodbye.

“Things went that well, huh?” She gives me a sad smile.

I give her a shrug, looking at Simon. “Did he get his insulin shot?” I say even though it’s a ridiculous question.

“Yes, he got his shot.” My mom sighs. “Tell me what happened with Claire.”

I don’t want to talk about it. I know she’s going to push the subject, but I try to hold her off as long as I can. “You should probably get home—”

“Jaxon.”

I sigh, giving up. “I told her,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “I told her everything.” As much as it sucks, knowing my suspicions about her potential reaction was well-founded, I’m glad that it’s finally over. I’m glad she knows. Maybe now that Claire understands that my leaving had nothing to do with how I felt about her, that there was nothing she did to make it happen, she can move on with her life. I really hope that she can.

Because I can’t.

Because now I know she’s it for me. There is no moving on. There is no one else.

I’m twenty-five years old, and I’m going to love Claire St. James until the day I die.

“Jax...” My mom sets her book aside and stands, moving toward me so she can wrap me up in her arms like she used to when I was a kid. “I’m sorry.”

I hug her back, letting her apologize because it makes her feel better. Setting her away from me, I smile and change the subject. “Did he ask you to stay?”

My mom moved out a few months ago, into an apartment a few blocks away. It was my idea. I felt like she needed to have her own place. Start her own life while Simon and I get used to being father and son instead of brothers.

He’s known the truth for a while now, why my mom felt like the lie was necessary to give us both a chance at what she calls a normal life. He took it surprisingly well. It’s the separation from my mother that he’s having a hard time with. Why he’s so angry at me. He still calls her mom. He still calls me by my first name. I’m not sure we’re ever going to get to a place where I’m Dad.

My life is thoroughly fucked up. Claire was right to push me away, and I was right to let her. She deserves more than anything I have to offer. I know that. I know that but knowing it didn’t stop me from wanting or wishing. Didn’t stop me from hoping that maybe I’d get to wake up beside her for once instead of walking away.

“He didn’t.” She smiles at me, seeing it as progress. “Do you need me to? I can stay if you want to—”

She wants me to go after Claire. I did that once. Let her go, only to chase after her. I was a selfish kid then, too intent on what I wanted to recognize or even care about what was best for her.

Best for us both.

“No.” I shake my head, crossing the living room to lift a sleeping Simon into my arms. He’s a big kid. Almost as big as I was when I was his age. Even so, feeling the weight of him in my arms, I can clearly remember what it felt like the very first time that I held him. The way his breath puffed against my neck. The way his fingers curled into the collar of my shirt.

“It’s not too late.” She tries again because all my mother has ever wanted is for me to be happy. “Maybe—”

“Yes, it is. It’s been too late for a long time now.” I shake my head. “I need to let her go. Let it be over. Move on.”

Even as I say it I know it’s a lie.

There’s not going to be any moving on. Not for me. Because Claire St. James is the one.

The only one.

And I lost her.