Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 28

♪♫••═════ PART TWO~CHAPTER : 28 ═════••♬ ♭

 Jack's head swiveled around, and I froze in the act of stepping out of my jeans. Kicking them aside, I dropped to the edge of the bed instead of pulling on the waiting pajama bottoms.

“Tristan, honey,” my fingers smoothed at the hair on his face, noting the droopy eyes. “Momma's been wondering. Why were you on the stairs?”

“I needed to ask you and Daddy something. And you weren't asleep in your rooms.”

“But why were you on the stairs and not the elevator?”

“I'm almost better. I walked some at the beach. I thought I could use the stairs like you and Daddy.”

The tips of my fingers stroked over the smooth skin of his forehead, then cheekbones. He never liked feeling different. Probably, I should have used the elevator more in coming or going from the second floor even when I was alone. The only time we really used the convenience was when Tristan was going up at the same time as us.

“You are almost better,” I assured.

Jack climbed into bed rolling to Tristan. His hand moved over the cast, and lightly touched the fingers extending from it. “What did you need to ask us?”

“Did you get my skimboard from Aunt Meg's?”

Jack's eyes speculatively raised, and I wondered if he was afraid of inciting a riot right while the tired boy was so close to sleep. Jack's truthful answer was a surprise since I myself had just opened my mouth intent on somehow deferring the negative answer without an outright 'no'.

“No buddy,” Jack brushed at dark hair the same shade as his own. “She will put it up for you though. And it will be there next time we go.”

“In six weeks,” Tristan grumbled, but it was an exhausted grumble and his eyes closed. “It will be six weeks until I can ride the board again.”

“We are going to have a lot of fun in the next six weeks buddy. You will probably not even think of your skimboard until we get back.”

“The tour?” Tristan opened his eyes long enough to ask, and the sleepy gaze found his dad's face.

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. “The tour. We will be going to lots of cool places, sometimes on a giant bus, sometimes on a plane--”

“I don't want to go without Momma.”

“Momma's going,” Jack assured.

I nodded, but Tristan didn't look my way. My odd feeling, concerning the direction of the conversation, was justified when he replied to his father, “The lady said she couldn't.”

Jack's bewildered eyes stayed on his son's face as the next seconds passed. I now understood, but did not know how to proceed with the explanation. Finally, Jack's brown gaze moved to meet my eyes. Wariness was quickly seeping into his look, replacing the confusion.

“What's he talking about?”

I swallowed a gulp and pressed a kiss to Tristan. “Night, night. I will be back in a few minutes.”

Jack understood and followed. I went downstairs, through the kitchen, the poolside seeming right for this discussion. I understood the draw of the water to Jack. Before moving, I had sought the ocean for deep thought since it was right outside any exit of my job on a casino boat.

Dragging the door open, I stepped out, and Jack impatiently questioned again, “What the hell was Tristan talking about?”

The television was still on, only the channel was now on a satellite music station. The current song, thunking through the speakers, sounded slightly hollow as it bounced over the water.