Jack sprung straight up, a cold film of sweat across his forehead. He gazed around, dazed.
He was... at home.
In bed.
It was just a dream.
Well... Jack Hill wished he could just call it a bad nightmare
But he knew better. He was responsible for that day.
"Jackie?"
Upon hearing a soothing, but worried voice call out to him, the middle-aged man jolted before spotting his beloved wife in the doorway. Several expensive paintings and family photos adorned their bedroom walls.
Jack loved his family, left his old one behind to live anew.
And yet the past still seems to hang over him like a horrid haunt set for torment.
God... Damnit.
Evelyn had stood there meekly, apparently he must have been making quite a few faces.
He never told her about that day, but in a way... he loved that she was smart enough to know something was wrong, even if she couldn't bring herself to force it out.
"Breakfast is already set at the dining table, and there was a call for you." Evelyn continued on, stepping closer to the bed as she leaned forward and kissed Jackie's cheek.
How did I ever deserve such a wonderful woman in my life?
"A call? Who from?"
"They didn't say who they were, just that it was important. They also gave me a number for you to call back." She frowned, recalling the call.
She was never fond of his old line of work, especially when it still managed to give some small nips here and there.
If only I could tell her.
"I left it on a notepad sheet in your office. Figured it might be able to wait until after you drop Michael off at school."
That answers one question in the back of my mind... I didn't oversleep.
Jack rolls out of bed, giving a hearty yawn while scratching at his mid-section, gut spilling out just over his boxers.
He'd certainly been leaner during his mafia days, but he'd found a certain pride in his new dad bod.
Another little slice of the American Dream.