Always (Bold as Love) (12 page)

“Nothing, Drake. She'll be right down. I'm just going to go check on her.”

Taking two steps at a time, I rush upstairs. Emily's lying in my bed, snuggled under the covers, facing the wall.

“Sweetness,” I begin calmly and sweetly. She chokes on a sob and shakes her head.

“
I'm sorry,” she whispers.

“
For what?” I cuddle up behind her.

“
For being upset.” She rolls around to face me. “I shouldn't be upset, but how can I not be? He thinks I'm a
burden.
A burden, Jake!”

“
I know, Sweetness, but he's so far off the mark.”

“
He's your family. How could you not listen to him?”

“
Because he's wrong,” I whisper right into her ear as she buries her face in my neck.

“
Did you really bury your mother?”

“
Yeah. Dad was too upset so I handled what arrangements I could.”

“
I'm sorry.”

“
Don't be. It's over now. Are you okay?”

“
I reckon,” she sighs.

“
C'mon. Let's go downstairs before Drake starts to worry.”

Emily hugs me tightly before letting me go.

27

Emily

Roy says the minimum amount to Jake and nothing at all to me. Other than that the days pass as normal. Today, we are laying Jake's father to rest. I'm in a simple, knee length black dress, sitting in Jake's living room, waiting. He's upstairs with Drake, getting ready.

Footsteps sound on the stairs. I stand and turn to look. I've never seen my boys so sad. Jake gives me a small smile as I head towards them. Jake wanted to drive himself, so we gather inside my car since it's easier to get in and out. He drives us to the cemetery across town where the service will be held.

“Can we see Mom first?” Drake asks from behind me.

“
Sure thing,” Jake replies, his voice strained. I take the hand he has resting on his knee over to my thigh as I hold it. Based on what Jake has told me, Drake hasn't asked to go by her grave and rarely speaks of her. My heart aches for the sadness that is consuming the atmosphere of the car.

With a hand in each of mine, I'm in the middle of two brothers. We're standing in front of a grave, with beautiful engraving and fresh flowers sitting in front.

“Dad must bring them,” Jake mutters.

“
Jake, do you think Mom looks down on us from heaven?” Drake asks after a minute of silence.

“
Yes, buddy, I do.”

“
Good.”

“
C'mon. It's time,” Jake says, tugging us over where his dad will be buried. People are slowly starting to arrive and I stand with Jake and Drake as people hug Jake, giving condolences, skip me, and repeat with Drake. Never does either of their hands leave mine. The boys give one armed hugs instead. Next, we take our seats at the front with Roy and his wife and children sitting behind us. Everyone else that arrives, mostly people who knew Mr. Benson and worked with him, stand behind us. I almost cry when I see Coach and Jake's high school team show up. I'm pretty sure Jake has the same reaction.

Jake has my hand in a death grip as the pastor begins to speak. Drake's hand is shaking, and I glance over at him. He's trying so hard to be strong, but as soon as the pastor says something about what Mr. Benson left behind, Drake turns towards me and starts sobbing. Letting go of Jake's hand, I wrap this little boy in a hug. My own tears fall at how mournful Drake is. It doesn't surprise me, but it still throws me off my kilter. I've never seen a child this upset before, I guess.

“It's going to be okay,” I whisper into Drake's hair.

At my words, Drake pulls away from me and in a flash, runs off. Jake stands, but my father lays a hand on his shoulder and turns to go after Drake. Reluctantly, Jake sits back down and reclaims my hand. He doesn't look anywhere but at the black, sleek casket. It pains me to see him so troubled.

Everything stops as we hear Drake's yelling.

“
No! No, no, no, no! I want my Mom!” he screams at Dad.

Jake bolts over to him and wraps him in a tight hug, but Drake pushes him away. I'm only a step behind Jake and Drake pushes past Jake and runs to me. Slightly confused, I hug him to me as Jake looks on with a hurt expression.

“Why'd they leave me?” Drake whispers so only I can hear.

“
They didn't want to, I promise. Everything will be okay, alright? You've got me, Jake, and Mr. Mike. We're all here for you.”

“
Promise you and Jake won't leave me?”

“
We promise, don't we, Jake?”

“
Absolutely,” he answers, hugging us together in a sandwich. “Are you up for the rest of the ceremony?”

“
I just want to go home,” Drake answers.

“
Alright. Let's go.” Jake turns to my dad. “Will you take care of things here?”

“
Of course.”

Jake huddles us to the car and soon we are leaving the dreaded funeral behind. Back at Jake's, Drake stares mindlessly at the cartoons playing on the TV. Jake and I are in the kitchen, and I watch as Jake paces.

“I've never seen him like that,” he grumbles softly.

“
He's a kid who lost both his parents. How do you expect him to react?”

“
That's not what I meant.”

“
What did you mean?” I wonder aloud.

Jake runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I don't know.”

Jake, he's wound up so tight that it scares me. I want to give him a hug, loosen those muscles of his, but I'm nervous. Will he accept it? Does he want it? Oh, forget it. He's mine and I want to comfort him.

“
Jake,” I say, walking over to him. He turns to face me and I wrap him in a hug. Maybe it's my imagination or wishful thinking, but ever so slowly he relaxes.

“
Thank you,” he whispers into my neck as he nuzzles it.

“
I love you,” I say just as soft.

“
I love you too. Always. Thank you,” he repeats, holding me tightly.

“
Y'all quit lovin' on each other and come watch TV with me.”

We laugh at Drake's peering face over the top of the couch and make our way to him.

“Scoot down,” Jake instructs so that he's in the middle and I can sit beside him. Of course, I cuddle up to him, tucking my legs underneath me and to the side. He wraps a more muscular arm around my shoulders. It's then that I feel how his body is next to mine.

“
You're getting more muscles,” I say, leaning away from him to get a better look. How did I not notice that my man's shoulders are broader and his arms a little thicker?

“
It's from practicing and working out like crazy.”

When has he been practicing? We're together, for the most part, and I don't remember him going off to practice.

“When?”

“
We'll talk about it later.”

Oh, okay. He must not want Drake to know about whatever it is. Jake gives me a sly smile, and I take in his features. His eyes are sad and exhausted. He's been looking exhausted for days now. With a mental sigh, I cuddle against him and watch TV. It's not ten minutes later, that Jake's head rolls to the side, landing on top of mine, and a snore emanates from his full lips.

“What a loser,” Drake jokes.

“
He's been tired,” I say.

“
Yeah, I know. Maybe he'll sleep off all his tiredness.”

“
Yeah, maybe.”

Night falls and Drake's stomach makes a loud grumble. Laughing, we disturb Jake from his sleep. He looks between us, puzzled.

“You snore,” Drake laughs.

“
I do not,” Jake says with a shake of his head.

“
Love, you so snore.”

Jake raises an eyebrow at me and chuckles. “So do you.”

My jaw hits the floor and I hit Jake on the arm. “I do not!”

“
It's a soft snore. It's cute.”

“
Jake, it's not good to lie, especially in front of your brother.” I can't believe he would say I snore! Even if I do, and I'm sure I don't, he doesn't have to tell me!

“
Scouts honor,” he says, showing the hand gesture and everything.

“
You weren't a scout,” Drake inputs.

Jake gives a non-menacing glare to Drake.

“Anyways,” he drags out, “I'm hungry,” Drake finishes, looking at me again, causing a fit of giggles to overcome me.

“
What's so funny?”

“
Nothing, love. What do y'all want to eat? I'll cook.”

Drake scrunches his nose and looks over at Jake, who keeps his face a blank slate.

“What?” I finally ask when it's apparent that neither are bringing forth answers.

“
Does she cook when y'all are in Charlotte?” Drake asks, directing his question to Jake, who nods.

“
I'm sorry.”

Again, it's like I'm not even in the room. “What's going on? Jake? Drake?”

“I'm sorry, Emily, but unless it comes in a box, you can't cook it,” Drake confesses. “Scratch that. If it's not mac and cheese, you suck.”

“
That's not true. I cook for y'all all the time and y'all both eat it.”

“
Sweetness,” Jake begins and I can see where he is going with this by the hint of sadness in his eyes.

“
Oh no, Jake. I can cook. You love my cooking.”

Then it clicks. He always eats out, if he can. “To avoid making you have to dirty up dishes,” he says. This doesn't make sense. I eat my food. It's not that bad. It's good. Dad eats it too. What the hell? I hit Jake on the arm once more and storm off to the kitchen. I'll show them just how great I can cook. I'll fix spaghetti. I mean, who can mess up spaghetti? Like really?

“Sweetness? Whatcha doing?”

I ignore him. I'm fuming. If I can't cook, then why didn't someone say something before now? Because Drake realized this is what he's going to have to eat in Chicago? Seriously? I can't believe this! How am I not a good cook when everyone eats what I fix? Ugh! These thoughts replay in my mind as I cook the meal.

“Oh no, she's really going at it,” Drake comments from beside Jake. They are standing in the threshold of the kitchen, watching me not so silently. They've been making comments the entire time.

“
Do you think it'll be better this time?” Drake asks.

“
I don't think you're helping, buddy. She works hard at this, but will it pay off?” he adds after a pause.

“
Who's helping now, Jake?”

“
Hush.”

It goes back and forth. Jake tries his best not to make comments, but it slips out every now and then. I'm furious and praying that this meal is downright delicious. With grace, I set the pot on the table and stand back with my hand on my hips. I'm not even hungry anymore. They took my appetite and stomped it to death. Tentatively, the boys take a seat at the table and scoop noodles and sauce onto their plates. They take their time, sprinkling on the Parmesan cheese.

Finally, they each take a bite simultaneously. I watch Drake carefully, because let's be honest. If anyone is going to immediately show facial expressions, it's going to be Drake. Slightly, his nose scrunches just the tiniest bit.

I've failed.

My shoulders slump and Jake stands to come towards me as he was watching me.

“
Don't.”

Quietly, I leave them in the kitchen and head up to Jake's room. I close the door softly and crawl into his bed. If only I could sleep. This isn't something I want to think about right now. It's not a situation that I want to dwell on. But who am I kidding? I am who I am and that means I'm going to worry.

How can I ever be a good wife, mother, anything, if I can't cook? What are we going to do? Eat out all the time? That's expensive. We can't sustain on macaroni and cheese for the rest of our lives either. Maybe the most important question is how did I mess up spaghetti? It's so simple and I ruined it. Why do the women cook most of the time anyway?

Suddenly, there's a creak coming from the bed as weight is pressed onto it. Jake. I know without looking that it's him. He's come to make me feel better, but I don't want his comfort. Right?

“Sweetness, it's fine.”

“
No, it's not, Jake.” I roll over to look at him. “How can I step into the role of a wife if I can't cook?! I can't believe y'all. You should have told me sooner. Then I would know that it isn't worth trying.”