Page 49 of Jax & Knox

"He was just, he was right there.” Her voice cracks. "Knox, I can't see him. I can't⁠⁠—"

"Hey." I grip her shoulders gently but firmly. "Breathe. He's here. He didn't go far."

But she's not listening. She's already moving, ducking under the slide, checking behind the climbing wall, her movements frantic and uncoordinated.

"Owen!" Her voice is shrill now, edged with terror. "Owen, please⁠.”

I move quickly, circling around the other side of the structure. And there he is, sitting in the shade behind a low tunnel, completely oblivious to his mother's panic, playing with a handful of wood chips.

"Ainsley," I call. "I've got him."

She whips around, and when she sees me crouched down with Owen in my arms, her knees buckle.

I'm there in an instant, catching her with one arm while holding Owen with the other.

"He's okay," I say firmly. "Look. See him? He never left our sight."

She's shaking violently, her hands reaching for Owen with desperate urgency. I hand him to her, and she clutches him to her chest, her whole body trembling.

"I couldn't—" she starts, her voice breaking. "I couldn't see him. I thought⁠⁠—"

"I know." I step closer, my hand on her shoulder. "But he's safe. You're both safe."

She closes her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "What if you hadn't been here?"

"But I was. And I always will be."

She looks up at me, her eyes red and raw. "I froze, Knox. I saw him crawl away and I just, I couldn't move fast enough. What kind of mother⁠⁠—"

"Stop." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "You didn't freeze. You called for him. You ran after him. And I got him. That's what we do. We've got each other."

She closes her eyes, and a sob escapes her.

I pull her into my arms, her and Owen both, and hold them while she cries. It's not the wrenching sobs from before. It's quieter. Exhausted. The kind of crying that comes from finally letting go of something you've been holding too long.

"I've got you," I murmur into her hair. "Both of you. Always."

She nods against my chest, and slowly, her breathing evens out.

Owen babbles happily in her arms, completely unaware of what just happened, reaching for my face with his chubby hands.

When she finally pulls back, her eyes are red but clearer.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be. You're healing. That takes time."

She looks down at Owen, who's babbling happily in her arms, completely unaware of what just happened.

"He's okay," I say again.

"Because of you."

"Because of us."

She meets my eyes, and the last bit of distance between us disappears. What settles in its place feels larger than attraction, deeper than want. It's trust.

We stay at the park for another hour.