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Aaron pressed a kiss to Jessica's cheek and allowed a small smile to twitch at his chapped lips. “Hello. Is everything alright?” He asked as he got rid of his jacket. He placed his briefcase on the kitchen table, settling his go-bag down on the floor beside it, and began searching for his laptop when he realised that he hadn’t received an answer. “Jess?” He glanced her way and realised that everything was not alright. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were slightly wet with tears wiped away a few times over. Taking two large strides toward her, he reached out to rest a comforting hand over her shoulder, squeezing gently. “What's wrong?”
“Aaron…”
Panic hit him square in the chest. “What is it? Is Jack okay? Are you okay?”
Jess shook her head with a sniffle. Timidly, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Aaron thought his heart might give out as time seemed to slow around him, watching as she unfolded the paper. It was jagged at the edges, torn unceremoniously from a small notebook–no doubt Jack’s considering there was a small dinosaur that said ‘you’re rawr-some!’ in the corner of the page–and she bit her lip as she stared down at it. “I found this,” she started, her voice shaking. “In Jack's room. I wasn't snooping, I swear, it was just on the side with his homework, and I was wondering if I should leave it, or throw it out, or, or, or, I don't know, maybe just not show you.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she offered him the note. “But Jack wrote this.”
Aaron felt numb as he reached out for it. He had no idea what to expect. He combed over every possible explanation in a matter of seconds, fearing the very worst, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found, yet it all felt expected once the initial shock subsided.
‘I HATE MY DAD’ was scrawled across the top of the page in a deep red. The ink bled through the page, Aaron had seen it when Jess had opened it up, but he didn’t realise until now that it wasn’t accidental. Jack was full of rage as he wrote it, pressing down on the pen so hard that Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if he found the broken felt in the trash. Underneath, in black pen, was a letter addressed to Aaron himself, short but in no way sweet.
He needed some time to process before he read the rest. He folded the paper back up, inhaled sharply, choked on air for a moment, and let out a deep hum when Jess clapped his back half-heartedly. Mumbling out a weak thanks, he dropped down in the nearest chair, careful not to scrunch the paper in any way. Despite the harsh words he wasn’t ready to read, he knew it was delicate.
“Aaron?” Jess whispered, her voice sounding distant to Aaron even though she stood right beside him. His ears rang, steadily increasing in volume until it physically hurt, and time seemed to stand still. It was as if he was trapped underwater with no escape, banging fruitlessly at the sheet of ice that kept him washed away in the current. “Hey, talk to me.” She reached out for him but he ducked away, unfolding the note once more. “Aaron, this is just a thing children do. It's nothing to do with you, it's their way of getting their feelings out.”
“Jack isn't a child,” Aaron replied, voice sharp. “He's thirteen.”
“And this is what teenagers do, too. Don't let it get to you.”
Aaron shook his head, staring down at the page. The words swarmed together, becoming almost completely unreadable, and he could feel the anger–at himself, not at Jack, never at Jack–begin to take a hold of him. “I haven't read it yet.”
“What?”
“I've only read the top line.”
Jess nodded in response. “I’m not leaving until you’ve read it all then.”
He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he forced his eyes to cooperate by blinking until the fog had mostly cleared, and he mentally cursed himself for not listening to his doctor about wearing his glasses, even when he knew he was reaching the age where they were necessary. He took a deep breath and began to read.
I HATE MY DAD.
I wish I had a better dad. One who chose me instead of his shitty job. I used to think he was a hero, like Spider-Man, but now I realise he’s just Peter Parker. A man who never has time for his loved ones because he’s too busy saving the world. A man who saves everyone but not the ones closest to him. He’s not a hero, he just dresses up as one. How can I call him a hero when he’s the reason my mom died?
Why did he save me but not her?
Aaron’s hands shook as he read it over and over. The words imprinted themselves in his mind and, once he was sure he’d accidentally memorised every word, the paper slipped out of fingers, gracefully falling to the floor. He dropped his hands to his side, clenching his fists and running his thumb soothingly over his knuckles, although it didn’t help.
“Aaron?”
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Fine.”
Jess’ face crumbled, though she tried to hide it, and she gave her own curt nod. “Okay. Well, Jack's at Owen’s house. Do you need me to pick him up?”
“No.” What was the point in that, Aaron wondered, why take him from a place he felt safe, loved, appreciated, and bring him back to a lifeless home? That’s how Jack felt, right? “Let him have fun. I'll call Owen’s parents later and ask if they need me to pick him up soon.”
“They said something about a sleepover. We thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
Aaron nodded again, eyes never leaving a piece of wallpaper that curled away from the wall. He'd been needing to fix that for years, ever since Jack tried to sneakily skateboard around the house in the early hours of the morning and fell off, the skateboard flying at the wall and tearing up the paper. ‘At least it wasn't your head’, Aaron had said when he was woken up in a panic thinking someone had broken in, and Jack had laughed in embarrassment. They'd eaten leftover pizza in the kitchen at 4am, and Aaron thought that life was good for once. Things were good. He was good.
But seeing that note, he realised none of that was true.
He wasn’t a good father.
It was something he already knew, of course, something that nagged away at him constantly, no matter where he found himself. But realising that Jack knew that too, had written it in words, scared him more than he was willing to admit. It destroyed him. He’d never felt more like a failure than he did in that moment.
Jess rubbed comfortingly at his back, hands as warm as they always were, but he was too numb to feel it. Exhaustion lay thick on his shoulders, weighing him down until he felt as though he might collapse right then and there, and all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep forever.
“You should go,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“No, it’s, it’s fine,” he mumbled, leaning down to pick up the note. His back stretched uncomfortably as he bent over, the muscles aching from the strenuous work from that week’s case and the long flight home, and he let out a soft groan. He knew he should get a nice hot shower, or dig out an unused heating pad hidden away in one of the kitchen drawers, but he was too tired. He needed to sleep. “I’m just gonna lay down.”
Aaron headed toward the couch and Jess tutted, grabbing at his elbow and using minimal strength to divert him toward his bedroom. He allowed her to take him wherever, too drained to fight, and she gently sat him down on the bed. “I can make you some soup,” she offered, “or some green tea. I have some in my purse.”
“Of course you have some in your purse,” he replied, huffing out a laugh. “But it’s okay. You’ve done enough, thank you.” He laid back on the bed, hardly bothering to cover himself with the duvet. It covered his legs and that was enough. “I just need to, just need, uh, just…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence; he was out like a light.
Jess smiled at him, a sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes (they never did anymore), and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She watched him for a moment, appreciated that he was allowed some form of peace in his sleep, and left, gently shutting the door with a heavy heart.
When Aaron woke up a few hours later, he couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened. His mind was completely silent–a rare occasion–and he felt calm. But then, as he wondered how Jack was doing, and where he was, and if he was okay, it all came rushing back to him.
Jack hated him.
His son blamed him for the death of his mother, and he blamed him for never being around enough. Aaron understood, though, because he blamed himself for those things too. He always had and he always will.
Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was almost 9pm. He muttered under his breath and pulled up his contact list, scrolling through the list until he found Owen’s mom’s number, and dialled it. The call was quick–Jack wanted to sleep over, Aaron said that that was fine–and he dropped back against the bed with a deep sigh. He stared at the ceiling, hardly blinking, before forcing himself up with an angry huff. He knew he couldn’t wallow in self-pity, he had to do something . Anything to take his mind off things. To give him space to think about how to handle the situation.
Aaron changed into comfortable loungewear, avoiding the mirror in the corner of the room as he did, and made his way to the kitchen. His plan was to get himself a coffee, maybe two, and power through the pile of paperwork in his briefcase that never seemed to end. Before he could make it to the kitchen, however, he came to a stop at Jack’s bedroom door.
For a moment, he imagined that Jack was in his room. He pictured what he’d be doing–probably talking loudly to his friends as he played on the Xbox, or softly singing along to his music as he focused on his homework–and his heart hurt. He knocked on the door as if Jack was there to answer, and after a long silence, gently opened the door. He wasn’t there to snoop–he’d never–but he wanted to look around the place. He wanted to feel close to Jack, even though he knew his son didn’t feel the same way.
As he stepped toward Jack’s bed, the covers a dark blue with white spots, something Jack had picked out when he claimed he was too old for his dinosaur sheets, Aaron realised he couldn’t blame his son for hating him. Not when he knew how easy it was to hate a father. Not when he knew how easy it was to hate himself.
Aaron sat down on the bed, a groan ripping through his lips at the steep drop, and glanced around the room. There were a few pictures messily attached to a corkboard beside Jack’s desk, and he noticed that there were none of the two of them together. He knew they had pictures, he had one of them on his desk at work, and he knew Jack had a few printed out for himself, but it was clear he wasn’t proud enough of his father to keep those pictures up anymore. Ignoring the guilt that curled in his bones, Aaron laid back and stared at the ceiling. It was bare, the ceiling, but the fading marks of glow-in-the-dark stars were still visible. Jack had loved them when he was a kid, especially on dark nights alone when he was sure someone was going to hurt him at any moment, but as he grew into a teen, he’d torn them down.
Maybe that was the first sign of his hatred, Aaron thought. Or it could have been when the bed sheets changed and no longer represented his personality. Or after his mom died, when he finally figured out that she was never coming home and he’d never see her again. Hell, maybe it was when Haley had left Aaron, before Jack could even put a word to his thoughts but knew how to feel hurt. How to blame.
Aaron’s head pounded, a constant thudding that refused to subside, and he forced himself out of Jack’s room before he could fall into a restless sleep on his bed. He headed straight to the coffee machine and made himself the strongest coffee he could before settling down at the dining table, sipping at it and letting it burn his tongue. He felt like he deserved it. Once the mug was mostly empty, he sorted through his upcoming reports through most important to least important and began working on the one needed early next morning. He caught sight of his go-bag on the floor and sighed, annoyed that he hadn’t had the chance to throw the clothes into the washing machine before he passed out, but he left it until he stood up for more coffee.
Hours passed and he hadn’t even made a dent in the reports. He sighed, forcing himself up for his fourth–or fifth, maybe sixth?–coffee of the day, when the front door swung open. His first thought was to reach for his gun, too many years on the job training him for the worst, but then he caught sight of a tear-stained Jack and he hovered awkwardly between reaching for his weapon and staring at his son.
When the initial shock dissipated, Aaron moved forward slowly. “Jack?” He asked, freezing when Jack took a few steps back. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“Nothing.”
Jack turned on his heel and sped toward his room, shaking off his jacket as if it burnt his skin, and Aaron followed him close behind. “No, don’t give me that. What happened to the sleepover?”
“I didn’t wanna have one.”
“But Owen’s mom said–”
“She lied!” Jack turned to face him, eyes full of so much sadness it physically pained Aaron to see. “Owen wanted the sleepover, I didn’t. I just wanted to see, to see if…”
Aaron held his breath as he waited for Jack to finish.
“I just wanted to see if you’d say no so we could finally spend some time together.”
All the air rushed out of his lungs.
“Jack,” he started, but Jack was having none of it and slammed the door in his face. “Jack…” he called out again, voice weak. He hated feeling weak but it was unavoidable when it came to his son. There was no answer other than the sound of Jack locking his door, and Aaron hung his head. “I’m sorry.” It was a weak apology, one that stained his tongue with how false it felt, and he knew it, but it was all he could offer.
Stepping away from the door, Aaron had no idea what to do. They’d never fought, not really. Aaron had promised himself that he’d never take his anger out on Jack, no matter what happened. As he made his way back to the kitchen, he felt ashamed. He stared down at his reports, unable to find it in himself to sit back down and work.
Work could wait; it could always wait for Jack.
But could it?
His job was hard enough as it is, even more so as a single father. There was never time to plan for events–he was either there, or he wasn’t. But he tried his best, he really did. And he thought that Jack knew that, and now he knew otherwise. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, he unlocked his phone and went straight to Jess’ contact number. His finger was inches away from calling her when he stopped himself, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose to dull the ache thrumming through him. He couldn’t call her, not for this. He went to her for everything and she came running when he called, always so willing to care for Jack without taking time for herself. He had to stop asking her to raise his own son for him. He had to stop asking her to stand in for her sister. He swiped away from her contact and scrolled down further to Derek’s name, dialling it before he could stop himself.
Derek answered after the third ring. “Hey, Hotch. We got a case?”
“No,” he replied after a long pause, suddenly anxious. Why was he even calling? What was he even going to say? “Uh, sorry, wrong number.”
Derek let out a loud laugh on the other end of the line. “There is no way you just said that, man. Seriously, what’s up?”
“Nothing, I was meant to call Jess, it’s just, uh, something with Jack, and–”
“Is he being bullied again?”
Aaron sighed. “No, it’s something else. Something worse.”
There was a shuffle on the other end of the line and he could hear the opening and closing of a door. “I’ll be over ASAP.”
“Morgan, no–” But it was no use, he’d already hung up. “Shoot.”
Derek was at Aaron’s door quicker than he expected. He knocked a specific pattern before letting himself in and making his way to where Aaron stood. A crate of beer was in his left hand, his phone in his right, and he grinned when Aaron glanced at the alcohol. “I wasn’t sure how bad, so…” Derek shrugged. Aaron reached out for a beer and opened it with ease, downing it in one go. “Woah. Very bad then. Should have gotten something stronger, huh?”
“Jack hates me,” Aaron grumbled before he could stop himself. The beer wasn’t enough to loosen him up yet but he trusted Derek. He always trusted Derek.
Derek raised his eyebrows, his lips twitching into a disbelieving smile. “No way, man. That kid loves you.” A loud yell came from Jack’s bedroom as he raged over a video game and Derek’s eyebrows shot up even higher somehow. “What happened?”
Instead of repeating himself, Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out Jack’s note. It was scrunched up into a ball–he’d gotten annoyed and tossed it in the trash before anxiously scooping it back out seconds later–and Derek took it from him, slowly unfolding it. He read it, his jaw going tense, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, before folding it neatly and placing it on the counter. “Yeah,” Aaron spat out, reaching for another beer and uncapping it, sipping at it this time. “That’s what happened.”
Derek was at a loss for words. Finally, though, after he took several thoughtful gulps of his own beer, he shook his head. “That’s just what kids do, man.”
Aaron fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s what Jess said.”
“Because she’s right. Jack just turned, what, thirteen? He’s entering his rebellious phase, so what? We’ve all been there, man.”
“Morgan, we’ve seen children’s rebellious phases. We’ve see what can happen to them; we know what loss at a young age does to these kids.”
“So, what, you’re saying you think Jack’s going to become a serial killer based on this note?”
Aaron almost choked on his beer. “What? No!”
“Then what are you trying to say? Because from where I’m standing it sounds like you’re comparing him to the children we’ve had to put away. Those children are troubled; Jack isn’t.”
“But he is.” Aaron polished off his second beer. It wasn’t his drink of choice, he preferred the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat, but it’d do for now. He needed to stop thinking so clearly, so coherently, just for a moment. “He lost his mom at a young age, Morgan. He heard her die. Heard me kill the man who murdered her. He’s never gonna get over that, that trauma will follow him for life. And I’m never around. To him, he lost both parents that night. I know I lost myself that night, anyway.”
“Hotch–”
“And I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Talk to him.”
“How?”
Derek shrugged. “I can’t help you with that, man, you have to figure that out yourself. All I know is that it needs to come from the heart. Tell him how you feel, let him know you love him, make sure he knows that you’re trying . Because you are, I know you are.”
“Not hard enough.”
“Cut the bullshit.” Derek stepped closer and their eyes met. Aaron couldn’t look away. “You are trying, man. I’ve seen it first hand. Whenever you have the chance, you wrap up a case as quickly as you can just so you can get a few more minutes with that boy before he falls asleep. And if you know you’re not making it home that day, you call him any chance you can get. I know he doesn't answer as much as you would like because he’s always busy with school or friends now, but I see the effort you’re making, man. You hearing me? You are trying, I can see it. And Jack will too, eventually, but right now you and Jess are all he has, and all he knows is that he sees Jess more than you.” Aaron opened his mouth to say something but Derek cut him off. “No, let me finish. Trust me, I am not saying that to hurt you.. I’m just calling it how I see it. You’re trying, man, and you’re doing your best. You’re a good dad, Hotch, I need you to know that. But Jack isn’t going to understand that unless you sit him down and talk to him.”
Aaron had no words. He turned his beer a few times in his hand but couldn’t bring himself to take another sip as he mulled over the words. They hit him much harder than he expected but he knew deep down that it was all true.
“Jack’s a smart kid,” Derek continued, clapping him on the shoulder. “He’ll understand if you just give him a chance. But for now, give him some time to cool off and think.”
“Right.”
“Which means that gives us time to drink, huh?” Derek beamed, throwing his head back to drain the last of his beer. “Let’s get something stronger, though, this beer ain’t cutting it.”
“There’s some whiskey in the cupboard over there,” Aaron pointed toward it, “help yourself.”
“Nuh-uh, I ain’t gonna be the only one drinking this stuff,” Derek laughed, grabbing the whiskey and two glasses. “You better join me.”
And join him he did.
A few hours passed and Aaron was, respectfully, wasted. He knew how to handle his alcohol, he knew his exact cut-off point, but he’d exceeded that by almost three times. Derek matched his energy, drinking as much as he did, and the whiskey bottle was almost empty by the time they were both falling asleep on the couch.
“I meant what I said, by the way,” Derek spoke up, words slurring as he tried–and failed–to sit up. Instead, he chose to lay down across the couch, flicking his long legs over Aaron’s. Aaron didn’t have enough energy to push his legs away. “You’re a good dad.”
“You’re just saying that because you feel like you have to.”
“Nope,” he replied, popping the P. He laughed at himself afterwards, a small chuckle turning into roaring laughter that had him sliding off the couch, before he managed to compose himself. Aaron laughed alongside him for a short while, the alcohol making him feel like he was floating, but reality crashed down on him once again and guilt seeped into his bloodstream. “Saying it because it’s true.”
“Whatever, man.”
Derek raised an eyebrow, laughing again. “Did Aaron Hotchner just say ‘whatever, man’? What’s next, you gonna rock up to work in a hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts? You gonna hang a surfboard on your wall instead of a bike this time?”
“Please… don’t remind me of the bike.”
“I will remind you of the bike, man, because seriously, what was that?”
Aaron shrugged. “I was in my biking phase. It reminded me of my time back in Seattle. It was…”
“It was funny, that’s what it was. But healthy, too.” Derek thought for a moment and gasped dramatically, reaching forward to lightly slap at Aaron’s upper arm. “Hey, we should go biking together.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Right now?”
“Jesus, not right now. I think I’d throw up just trying to sit on the damn thing.”
Aaron groaned and held his stomach. “Don’t mention throwing up or I’ll throw up.”
Derek covered his mouth with hand and Aaron closed his eyes to steady his swimming vision. Behind them, Jack’s bedroom door opened, and Aaron tensed as he focused on the tentative footsteps heading toward the bathroom. Derek began to talk about a brawl he witnessed at a local pub to fill the silence but Aaron wasn’t paying attention. His thoughts drowned out Derek’s voice, far more violent than the fight he was explaining, and when Jack came back into the room, the sound of footsteps was all he could hear.
“Hey Jack!” Derek said, sitting up with a smile on his face. “How’s it hanging?”
“Alright.”
“Come on, man, I haven’t spoken to you in ages!”
“Morgan,” Aaron warned, voice low. “You said to give him some time.”
“Yeah, from you,” Derek shrugged. “But who needs time away from Uncle Derek?”
Jack eyed them, unamused. “I need to go back to my game, Uncle Derek. It was nice seeing you.”
“Jack,” Aaron started, turning to face his son. At the sight of him, however, all words escaped him and all he could do was stare.
Rolling his eyes, Jack turned away from them and pushed open his bedroom door. “Wow, nice talk, Aaron .” And as if that wasn’t enough, he slammed the door so hard Aaron was sure there’d be a noise complaint in the morning.
“Holy shit,” Derek muttered, sitting up so fast his neck cracked unpleasantly. “Did he just…”
Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “He did.”
“And you’re just gonna let him do that?”
“For now, yes.” Aaron reached for the last of the whiskey and opened the bottle, throwing it back without bothering to pour a glass. “You should leave.”
“No way am I going to leave after–”
“Derek. Leave.” His voice was desperate; Derek had never heard him so vulnerable before. “Please.”
“Okay, man, sure, yeah. I’ll, I’ll leave.” Derek stood up, stumbled, and looked around as if he couldn’t physically get himself to move. “But only after I know that you’re okay.”
“Morgan–”
“No, Aaron. Only after I know you’re okay.”
Aaron was too tired to argue.
The next day, Aaron woke up in bed and had no clue how he got there. All he knew was that his head was throbbing, his body felt weak, and he was wrapped up in his sheets like a newborn. Derek must have tucked him in. The thought made him flustered, albeit not entirely unpleasantly, and he pushed it aside as he forced himself out of bed.
Feeling gross, Aaron made his way to the shower and put the temperature as high as it could go, stepping in the moment it reached its peak. The water burned him, his skin quickly becoming bright red, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He stood there for what felt like hours before getting out, not even bothering with cleaning himself. He had no energy to commit to a task that felt so menial. Throwing on the first clothes he could find, Aaron finally allowed himself to enter the kitchen and make himself a coffee. To his surprise, though, Jack was there, making himself cereal, and at the sight of his dad he began to walk away, leaving everything on the counter.
“Jack.”
“Leave me alone.”
A switch flicked in Aaron’s head. He wasn’t going to take this anymore. “Jack Hotchner, you listen to me right now.”
Jack paused, stood still for a few moments, and slowly turned around. He looked nervous, not used to his dad taking such a sharp tone with him, but he nodded nonetheless. “Okay.”
“We are gonna sit down and we are gonna talk. Man-to-man. How does that sound?”
“It sounds… awful,” Jack said, but he managed a small smile. “But okay.”
Jack moved toward the couch and Aaron quickly made himself a coffee, grabbing both the mug and bowl of cereal before sitting beside his son. He passed Jack his cereal and watched him intently, waiting for him to take a few bites before talking. “Jess found something you wrote and she showed it to me.” Jack tensed but continued to silently eat, avoiding Aaron’s eyes. “On it, you said you hate me.”
“Dad, I–”
“Oh, so it’s dad now?”
Jack looked incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry. I really, uh, really shouldn’t have called you by… something other than Dad. You didn’t, like, deserve that.”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have, and I didn’t. But we need to talk about it, okay?” Aaron took a few sips of his coffee before placing his mug on the table beside him. “I understand that I’m no hero, especially not to you. Not after…” Aaron swallowed nervously. “Not after mom. I know that. But I do try, I need you to know that.”
Jack nodded. “You’re just… never mind.”
Aaron reached out and clasped Jack’s shoulder firmly in his hand. He waited patiently until Jack found enough courage to look up at him. “It’s okay, you can say it.”
“You’re never around.”
“I know.”
“And I need you around.”
A tear threatened to escape Aaron’s eye. “I know.”
“I don’t hate you, Dad. I was just… I was angry. You hadn’t been home in a week and all I wanted to tell you was some good news I got and I couldn’t .”
“You can always call me.”
“Sometimes you don’t answer,” he sighed, looking away again. He stirred his cereal but didn’t bother to eat anymore. “And I know it’s because you’re on a case, and you’re out there risking your life to save people and make the world a better place, but it hurts. And I wanted to tell you in person.”
Aaron nodded somberly. “What did you want to tell me?”
“Nuh-uh, we’re having a serious talk here.”
“Wow,” Aaron chuckled, “okay then. I guess I’ll reprimand you more and–”
“Oh, no.”
“–then you can tell me, huh?”
“I regret what I said, can I take it back?”
Bumping his shoulder against Jack’s, Aaron smiled. “After I say the rest of what I need to say.” Jack groaned, and Aaron rolled his eyes playfully. “I know you don’t hate me, buddy, but those words you wrote really hurt.”
“More than when you got stabbed?”
Aaron winced. “Way more. But we can move past that, it’s fine. I want to ask you something.”
“Okay…”
“If I were to take… time off work, how would you feel?”
“More than two days this time?” Jack asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Maybe even three days?”
“Alright, don’t get too sassy now, bud. You’re still in trouble. But, yes, more than two days, and more than three. What if, what if I…” Aaron couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. “What if I left the job?”
“What?” Jack’s mouth hung open. “No, Dad, I’m not asking you to do that. You love your job.”
“I know you’re not asking, Jack. I’m offering. And yeah, I do love the job, but I love you more. And, truth be told, it’s getting too much for me.”
Jack's face became one of concern and he sat up straight, scrutinising Aaron from head to toe. If it wasn’t so endearing to witness, Aaron’s sure he’d have broken down right then and there. He looked so much like Haley when he looked at him like that. “Did you get hurt on the last case? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Aaron moved Jack’s bowl away from the two of them before pulling Jack into a hug. He squeezed him tightly and took a deep breath before answering. “No, bud. I just want to spend more time with you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You’re the best kid I know.”
Jack wrapped his arms around Aaron’s neck so tightly that he feared he might really need to go to the hospital if he kept up with that grip. He was growing stronger each day, both mentally and physically, and Aaron felt emotional at the thought. “Aren’t I, like, the only kid you know.”
“You really, like , believe that?” Aaron said, mocking him gently.
Pulling away, Jack laughed. “Don’t make me take back everything I just said.”
“Oof, bud, too soon.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged, not looking apologetic in the slightest. “Does this mean we’re okay?”
“Of course we are. I don’t think you could do anything that would end up with us never okay again.”
“Even if I keyed your car?”
“You what ?!”
“Oh my god, Dad, it’s a joke, it’s a joke I swear,” Jack said through laughter. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t do well with jokes.”
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Aaron replied, dropping his shoulders in relief. “That was always your mom’s thing.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence, both reminiscing over Haley. Aaron remembered how hard she’d laugh at her own jokes and the way she’d light up the room as she did. She always worried that it was annoying but Aaron promised her that it’d never annoy him, and it never did. She was endlessly brilliant to him, and always would be. Looking at Jack, he felt the same way.
“So,” Aaron started, breaking the silence. Jack looked up at him expectantly. “What was the good news you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh.” He grew sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, and Aaron cocked his head, intrigued. “Uh, well, promise not to get mad?”
“Now I’m worried, so I don’t know if I can make that promise.”
“It’s not bad, I swear.”
“Okay… I promise.”
Jack took a deep breath, wringing his hands together in his lap. “I kinda, sorta, maybe, just might, I don’t know–”
“ Jack .”
“Ihaveagirlfriend.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I have a girlfriend.”
It took a few seconds for it to register in Aaron’s mind. At first, he wanted to demand information so that he could send the names to Penelope for background checks on her parents and her parents’ parents, but he refrained from saying that out loud. His second thought was that Jack was too young to have a girlfriend, but then he remembered his first kiss was with a boy behind the school bins when he was seven, so he couldn’t say anything. And then he remembered what his own father did to him when he told his parents he had a girlfriend when he was eleven, and how it took months for that broken arm to heal, and he realised that he was nothing like his father. “That’s great, buddy. What’s her name?”
“Lola.”
Aaron smiled. “That’s a pretty name. Tell me everything.”
Jack beamed up at him and scooted closer so that he could lean into Aaron’s side, burying himself even closer when Aaron grinned back and wrapped his arm tightly around his shoulders, before he began to ramble about his new girlfriend. They’d met at school in art class and she had the sweetest laugh, according to Jack, and he was sure he was going to marry her. As Aaron listened, he thought back to Haley, and he couldn’t help but feel so proud. Things were good again, and this time he was sure they’d stay that way.