She’s back in those tiny shorts that barely cover her ass, those white socks are pulled up to her knees, and my hoodie is dwarfing her body. And she’s singing to my son while he plays with her hair. My vision might be fucked, but the sight of her takes my breath away. Jax finishes his bottle, and she pops him on her shoulder to burp while smiling at me. “Good morning, Cross.”
