Chapter 8 - THE DAY JACOB RAN AGAIN
The first time Jacob ran, nobody was prepared.
It happened in May.
Five months after I arrived.
The boys were outside with me near the lower garden.
Nathan had turned half the old formal lawn into something children could actually use.
Swings.
Climbing structure.
A ridiculous wooden fort large enough to withstand artillery.
He denied choosing the design.
Marco showed me the invoice with Nathan’s handwriting.
Jacob was walking toward the pond.
Jonah yelled something about a frog.
Then Jacob ran.
Not far.
Maybe twenty yards.
But he ran.
Arms pumping.
Shoes striking grass.
Laughing.
I stopped breathing.
Jonah ran after him.
Nathan happened to be walking out of the house.
He saw.
His entire body stopped.
Jacob reached the pond.
Bent over.
Then straightened.
No collapse.
No grabbing his legs.
No pain.
Nathan crossed the lawn slowly.
Jacob looked up.
“Dad.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Jacob grinned.
“I beat Jonah.”
“You cheated!” Jonah shouted.
Nathan reached them.
He crouched.
“Are you okay?”
Jacob rolled his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Chest hurt?”
“No.”
“Legs?”
“Dad.”
“Head?”
I touched Nathan’s shoulder.
“He’s okay.”
Nathan looked at me.
Then back at Jacob.
His son suddenly understood.
His smile faded.
“Dad?”
Nathan pulled both boys into his arms.
Jacob protested.
Jonah laughed.
Nathan held on.
I looked away because some moments did not need witnesses.
Then Jonah shouted from inside the hug.
“Emily’s crying!”
Traitor.
Nathan looked over.
I wiped my face.
“Allergies.”
Jacob frowned.
“There aren’t flowers here.”
“Go find your frog.”
They ran.
Both of them.
Nathan watched until they disappeared behind the hedge.
“They’re running.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
He laughed once.
Then covered his face.
I stood beside him.
Five months earlier, those boys needed help crossing a hallway.
Now they were fighting over pond wildlife.
Recovery wasn’t perfect.
There were still difficult days.
Specialists continued monitoring them.
Some symptoms lingered.
But the direction had changed.
Life was returning.
Nathan changed with it.
He formally stepped away from what remained of the criminal Coleman organization that summer.
Not because doing so made him harmless overnight.
A life like his did not disappear because paperwork said legitimate.
There were investigations.
Negotiations.
Deals through attorneys.
Years of consequences still ahead.
But his sons no longer saw armed men at breakfast.
The estate guards became licensed security.
Old associates stopped visiting.
Nathan sold three clubs and two warehouses.
One evening Marco walked into dinner.
“I have terrible news.”
Nathan looked up.
“What?”
“We paid taxes.”
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled water.
Nathan stared at him.
“Leave.”
Marco sat down.
“Also, we made more money.”
Nathan looked offended.
“Impossible.”
“Crime is inefficient.”
The twins had no idea why the adults found this funny.
That was probably good.
Dr. Reeves eventually pleaded guilty to charges related to falsified records and conspiracy.
His cooperation helped prove Harris’s role.
Harris was convicted in Rebecca’s death.
The evidence showed he had tampered with her vehicle after she threatened to expose Daniel’s financial network.
Daniel had not ordered murder.
But he had created the fear around her.
Then helped hide questions afterward.
He went to prison for conspiracy, financial crimes and his role in the attack on the twins.
Nathan attended sentencing.
When he returned, he went directly upstairs.
I found him in Jacob and Jonah’s room.
Rebecca’s photograph sat between their beds.
“She was right,” he said.
I leaned against the doorway.
“About what?”
“Leaving.”
I said nothing.
“If she had survived, she would’ve taken the boys.”
“Maybe.”
“I would’ve fought her.”
“Probably.”
He looked at me.
“You agree too easily.”
“I know you.”
His eyes softened.
“She deserved better.”
“Yes.”
“So did they.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still here.”
There was more beneath the sentence.
I felt it.
“Nathan.”
He looked down.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“What?”
He laughed quietly.
“Ask for anything that isn’t business.”
My heartbeat changed.
He stepped closer.
“I know what you were hired for.”
“To keep your children alive and throw oatmeal at doctors?”
“That second part became a bonus.”
I smiled.
His expression became serious.
“I don’t want you feeling trapped because you live here.”
“I don’t.”
“I don’t want salary mixed with…”
He stopped.
“With what?”
His eyes met mine.
“This.”
There it was.
Months of late-night conversations.
Coffee after hospital appointments.
His hand at my back during Jacob’s first day at school.
The way he looked for me whenever a test result arrived.
The way I had begun knowing his footsteps.
“I can move out,” I said.
His face dropped.
That answered more than words.
I smiled.
“I didn’t say leave.”
He stared.
“I can stop being live-in staff.”
Nathan’s mouth almost moved.
“Emily.”
“I can get an apartment nearby.”
“I own—”
“No.”
He stopped.
I laughed.
“You were going to offer property.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“Right.”
“Learning.”
“Slowly.”
We decided I would remain the boys’ nanny through the school year.
Then transition out professionally.
No romance while he was my direct employer.
Nathan hated that rule.
Which was exactly why I insisted on it.
Jacob overheard part of the conversation.
At breakfast, he asked:
“Are you dating Dad?”
Nathan choked on coffee.
Jonah looked interested.
I said, “No.”
Jacob frowned.
“Why?”
“Adult reasons.”
“Dad likes you.”
Nathan stared at his son.
Jacob continued eating cereal.
Jonah added, “He wears the nice shirts when you have dinner.”
I looked at Nathan.
He looked betrayed.
“Both of you are disinherited.”
Jacob shrugged.
“You said we don’t do that anymore.”
I laughed.
Nathan closed his eyes.
The boys were recovering.
Unfortunately, so was their confidence.
That summer I moved into a small house fifteen minutes away.
Nathan did not buy it.
I rented it myself.
He complained about the locks.
I changed them.
Not because he ordered me to.
Because he was right.
Our first actual date happened three weeks later.
A restaurant.
No bodyguards at the table.
No medical charts.
No children.
Nathan looked uncomfortable.
“This is strange.”
“What?”
“No one needs anything.”
“Give it ten minutes.”
His phone rang.
Jacob.
Nathan answered immediately.
“Are you okay?”
A pause.
His face flattened.
“What do you mean where is the remote?”
I laughed.
Normal problems.
May you like
Ordinary things.
Exactly what we had fought for.
