8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

Reminders of What I Lost

Song: Santa Fe (1992 version)

A/N: Hey everyone. I hope you've had a wonderful week and if not I hope this week is wonderful. Also happy spring break for anyone who going into it, on it, or already had it. This chapter will again not have Jaime' perspective or Jaime at all actually. I'm going to focus more on Jack and Davey's friendship (and tension). This will contain a small plot for a dumb story that will be blossoming for a couple chapters. Before we get into the new chapter, I just wanted to say thank you to all my readers, but I wanted to give a shoutout to Soph_75 for always supporting and voting on this story. I really do appreciate it! Anyways hope you enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters.

Present Day: July 1899

Davey's POV

We approached the door of my home. I opened the door as Jack carried Les in his arms. Jack put a very sleepy Les down, as our mama came over to us

"My god," she squealed. "What happened."

"Nothing mama," I assured her. "He was just sleeping."

"We've been waiting dinner," Pa said. "Where ya been?"

I put down all the money Jack and I had made today.

"You made all this selling newspapers," he asked.

"Well half of its Jack's," I said, remembering our deal.

Jack's POV

Actually 60% of it's mine, but I'll let it slide just this once.

Davey's POV

I realized I hadn't introduced Jack to my parents yet.

"This is our selling partner," I stuttered. "And our friend. Jack Kelly, my parents."

"Hello," Jack said, shaking Pa's hand.

"And that's my sister Sarah," I said pointing in her direction.

She was mending one of her skirts that had most likely ripped when she was at the factory. I noticed Jack was staring at her. Did he have the hots for my sister? Wait does she have the hots for him, already? Why do I even care if they have the hots for each other? I can hardly stand him.

Jack's POV

I looked at Davey's sister, mending her skirt. From the corner of my eye I could see Davey flipping his gaze between us. His parents were having a conversation I could hardly hear. I looked back over.

"Why don't you go add a little more water to the soup," Mr. Jacob, said kissing

Mrs. Jacobs cheek. Just like dad used to do with mom for dinner. Davey seemed to have the same reaction James and I would have. Grossed out because well, it's our parents. I felt a strange sense of deja vu. Almost like I was seeing what I would never have. What I lost; my parents, my home, my sister for a while, my identity. They invited me to stay for dinner, it felt rude to refuse so I agreed. The soup was delicious. Almost as good as mom's. Almost. We had a conversation about what it was like selling newspapers, especially with my sister in charge. It may not seem like it, but she truly is a great leader and as feared as she is admired.

"So I gotta say from what I saw today. Your boys are a couple of born newsies," I said. Sarah came around, collecting everyone's dishes.

"Can I have a little more," I asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"So with my experience," I continued. "And their hard work, I figure we can peddle a thousand a week, not even break a sweat."