Just With You (Taphouse Blues Series Book 3)

by Heather Lyn

She’s the epitome of perfection.

  “You’re back early. You and Drew finish everything up?”

  “No.”

  She gives me a funny look, clearly trying to figure out what’s going on. I stretch a hand out to her and she comes over to me, sitting on my lap as best as she can, resting her hand on top of her belly and winding her other arm around my neck. Her fingers play with the strand of my hair at my neck, and she looks deep into my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head and fight like hell not to break down on her. After all, I have no idea what the letter even is, and I know deep down I shouldn’t be upset. The bastard who killed Bryan and Casey is dead. I’m not happy he’s dead—I’m not a cruel man—but I’m also not sad either.

  It just doesn’t seem fair that he went to sleep and never woke up.

  Bry and Casey didn’t have such an easy fate.

  “Barret Jones is dead,” I whisper, and her eyebrows pull down in confusion.

  “Who?”

  I can’t make myself say the words, and I swallow furiously against the emotion welling in my throat. She must notice how much I’m struggling, because understanding dawns on her face and she has both her arms around me seconds later.

  “Oh my gosh.”

  “His attorney called me. I have to go to Knoxville tomorrow. They found a letter for me.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, I can’t let you do that. It’s a three-hour drive each way, and I don’t want you cooped up the whole time.”

  “Jace….”

  “I can’t tell you what it means that you want to be there,” I begin, pulling away so I can touch my forehead to hers. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and I rest my thumb over her bottom lip, gently rubbing back and forth. “Please don’t fight me on this, Stell. I want you home, safe and sound, so I know tomorrow will bring me some sort of happiness.”

  “Then I’ll be here waiting for you. Promise me something?”

  “Anything, baby.”

  “Promise me that you’ll be okay.”

  My heart clenches at her words, and I give her a gentle kiss. “As long as you promise you’ll be here when I get home. I’m scared to go,” I admit, tears springing to my eyes. “I’m scared of what I’m walking into. The second I got the phone call, I felt like I was back in that car.”

  “Take off your pants.”

  If she didn’t look serious, I know for sure I’d burst out laughing, but instead I do as she says. When I’m in just my T-shirt and underwear, she pulls the blankets back and pats the bed. Kicking off her own sweats, she climbs in and curls herself into me, entwining our legs. Her belly is pressed between us, and I rest a hand on top.

  “I will always be here, Jace. I’m never going anywhere. And if you change your mind, the passenger seat has my name on it. I can’t promise tomorrow won’t bring pain, and I know you’re hurting, but I’m here, okay? Whatever happens, you aren’t alone.”

  Tucking my face in her neck, I take a deep breath and inhale her scent, the smell of lilacs surrounding us.

  Stella’s right. I can get through anything with her in my arms.

  Her and my sweet babies.

  §

  Blowing the horn, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel while I wait for Drew to get his ass out to my truck. He comes out a minute or two later, pulling a navy beanie down on his head, his usual brown leather jacket on. He jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, buckling his seat belt.

  “I grabbed you a coffee,” I tell him, motioning to the paper cup in the center console.

  “Thanks, brother. You ready?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  And with that I back down his driveway, pulling onto the interstate ten minutes later, my truck headed straight for hell.

  We make small talk for most of the drive, mostly about work and Stella. I tell him she’s been busy organizing the girls’ room, and he smiles at me.

  “She is gonna make one hell of a mom.”

  “Yeah, she really fucking is. How about you? You meet anyone special?” I ask. Drew has such a down-to-earth and goofy personality, but I know deep down, he wants to find someone.

  “Nah, not really. To be honest, I haven’t been going out much. Long-ass shifts have kept me pretty occupied. I’ve been thinking about hiring another mechanic so I can catch my breath.”

  “You should,” I tell him, eyes on the road as I reach for my own coffee.

  “I’m working on what to advertise on the website.”

  “You need any help?” I ask.

  “No, I got it handled, but thanks.”

  We lapse into silence, and I turn the radio up just a tiny bit, Drew laughing at me when the country music comes spilling through the speakers. I don’t change it though, glad to have a small piece of Stella with me in the truck.

  The trip is easy, and before I know it, we’re in Knoxville. Drew enters the address into my dash GPS, and it directs us toward town, not far from where that fateful night began. I haven’t been back to this area since the accident, and my stomach clenches with the thought.

  I find the law office easy enough and park out front, not many cars in the lot.

  “You want me to come in?” he asks me, and I nod.

  Gripping my shoulder, he gives me a half hug over the console and we climb down, heading right inside. The waiting room is sparsely decorated, and we make our way over to the small desk off to the right.

  “Hello?” the older woman greets us, a phone headset on, her smile bright and cheery.

  “I’m Jace Miller. I’m here to see James Klein.”

  “Let me go tell him you’re here. Just a minute.”

  Getting up from her seat, she disappears down a hallway and comes out a couple minutes later with James Klein, a man I immediately recognize. After all, he was in the courtroom every day next to Jones while he sat like a statue, never saying anything. Never showing any emotion.

  No goddamn remorse, not even at sentencing.

  “Jace Miller, good to see you.”

  “Wish I could say the same. Let’s get this over with.” I’m being a douchebag, and I know it, but I don’t care much at the moment. Drew’s looking just as tense as I am, and we follow Klein when he holds his arm out toward a set of offices.

  We step inside, and he takes a seat behind his desk, folding his hands in front of him.

  “I understand this is hard, but I want you to know that I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t think the letter was of importance and time sensitive.”

  “Did you read it?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

  “No, but I got to know Mr. Jones well over the years, and I know it’s of the upmost importance that you were given it directly.”

  “Okay.”

  Klein reaches behind him for a large manila folder, pulling out a small white envelope, slightly dirty and wrinkled. He hands it over the desk and I take it from him, a bit surprised. I was expecting something formal and not so personal.

  Turning it over, I find my name written in messy handwriting, and I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely. James Klein isn’t the enemy; he’s just the reminder of the worst night of my life. Standing from my seat, I extend a hand to him and he shakes it, his lips pressed in a tight smile. “If there’s nothing else, I think we’ll get going.”

  “No, nothing else. Take care of yourself, Jace. And if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

  I give him a curt nod. Drew shakes his hand as well, and we leave the office, my stomach in knots.

  “That was quick,” Drew mumbles as we hit the lobby.

  I ignore him, pushing my way out the doors. I don’t stop moving until I’m in my truck, shut inside with my thoughts. Drew gets in next to me and gives me a pained look, and I drop my eyes to the letter.

  Sliding my finger under the seal, I tear it open, knowing this letter could change everything.

  And the thoug
ht fucking terrifies me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  STELLA

  Staring down at my phone for the hundredth time today, I will it to light up. A text. A phone call. Anything to tell me Jace is doing okay. He’s been gone for closing in on five hours, and I’m worried about him. I thought he’d check in at some point, but he hasn’t.

  When it still doesn’t go off, I fight the urge to call him and set it on the coffee table, moving into the kitchen to get a glass of lemonade. I finished putting the baby clothes away, and I’m expecting a delivery later in the week with the custom outfits I bought them for coming home.

  I’m setting the pitcher back in the fridge when my cell phone beeps from the living room. I waddle in to check it, because yes, at almost thirty weeks pregnant with twins, I waddle. There’s no cute way to describe it. Grabbing my phone, I’m surprised to see a text from Drew, and my heart instantly drops.

  Drew: We’re about 90 minutes out. You home?

  Stella: Yeah. How’d it go?

  Drew: Not good. He got sick before we left the parking lot, and I just pulled over so we could grab some food. He’s hurting, Stell.

  Stella: Are you driving?

  Drew: I didn’t trust him behind the wheel.

  Stella: Tell him I love him. I’ll see you soon.

  Drew: I will.

  Oh, Jace.

  A tear escapes down my cheek and I brush it away, curling up in the corner of the couch. Grabbing for the remote, I turn the television on and settle on some reruns of Supernatural, Jensen Ackles the only thing that can make me stop worrying about Jace.

  I must have dozed off, but I jerk awake at the sound of a car door closing. Glancing out the window, I see Jace’s truck in the driveway, both him and Drew climbing down from it. I rush to pull the door open, and my heart aches at the sight of Jace. His face is pale, and his eyes are red rimmed. I expect him to haul me straight into his arms, but he brushes past me, heading for our bedroom.

  Drew steps up onto the porch and gives me a sad smile. I hold the door open for him and pull him into a hug, burying my face in his chest.

  “I’ve never seen him like this, Stell.”

  “What happened?”

  Drew pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the emotions away. “We weren’t even in the office ten minutes. Jace had no interest in making small talk with the attorney of the man who killed his friends. Klein was perfectly nice, and he gave Jace the letter, and we left.”

  “He read it.” It’s not a question on my mind.

  “As soon as we got into the truck. He didn’t tell me what it said, but it’s shaken him up. He didn’t talk the whole ride home, but I could tell he was seconds from breaking the whole time.”

  My eyes burn, and I look out the window. “He picked you up, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. I called my dad after I sent you the texts. He’s a few minutes away. I’m gonna have him drive me home. There’s nothing I can do for him. He needs you, Stella.”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I give him another hug, not moving away from him until I see Clint pull in the driveway.

  Drew squeezes my shoulder. “Let me know how he’s doing, okay?”

  I don’t get a chance to answer him before he’s gone, jogging down to his dad’s truck. I step into the open doorway to wave at Clint. He raises his arm in response, and then I shut the door behind me.

  Walking through the house, I find Jace in the bedroom, rifling through the top drawer of the dresser.

  “Hey,” I say softly, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Standing in the doorway, I wait for him to say something, but he just keeps looking for whatever it is he wants.

  “Jace,” I try again, and this time he turns to me.

  “Have you seen my boxing tape?”

  “Your what?”

  “The shit I tape my hands up with. It’s white and I normally keep it in the drawer so I don’t lose it.”

  “Why do you need it?” I ask, moving into the room so I can stand next to him.

  “Because I want to work out.”

  His answers are short and clipped, and I want nothing more than to pull him into my arms and hold him, ease his pain somehow. But he’s not ready, and I don’t want to push him. I’m scared of what will happen if I do.

  “Fuck it.” He slams the drawer shut and stalks out of the room.

  Alone, I rub my hands over my stomach and whisper, “Daddy needs us now, babies.”

  Stepping into the hallway, I hear a kitchen cabinet slam shut and I follow the noise, finding him rummaging around looking for a glass. Pulling down one of the glass tumblers, I set it on the counter in front of him, and he mumbles a thank you. The cabinet on the end holds the few bottles of liquor we have, and he yanks down the Jack Daniel’s, pouring more than a few fingers’ full in the glass, knocking it all back at once.

  He goes to pour more and I hesitate, wanting to stop him. Jace isn’t a huge drinker, only having a beer if he’s with friends or family. I’ve never seen him toss back liquor like this in the almost year we’ve been together. His hand shakes as he lifts the bottle of whiskey, and he sets it back down, abandoning the alcohol for the back deck.

  “Jace, it’s freezing out there,” I say, but the door slams shut behind him, my words unheard. Sighing, I set the tumbler in the sink along with the other few dishes. Placing the bottle in the cabinet, I go back to the sink and clean the few things in there, setting them in the strainer to dry.

  When Jace still hasn’t come back inside ten minutes later, I decide to go after him. Stopping in the living room to stuff my feet into my clogs, I grab his heavy hoodie and tug it over my head.

  The air is bitter as I step onto the back deck. Jace is sitting on the patio furniture, head in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. Shivering, I make my way over to him and reach out to run my hand over the back of his head. He lifts his head to me, and my heart doesn’t just break.

  It shatters.

  He has tears pouring down his cheeks, and he looks more like a lost little boy than the grown man he is. His chest hitches on a breath, and he pulls me onto his lap, arms going around my waist. I clutch him to me as he buries his face in my chest, and the second I kiss his temple, he breaks. This strong, capable, wonderful man splinters into a million pieces. The hoarse sobs coming from deep in his chest cause my own tears to fall, his body shaking with the force of his cries.

  “It’s okay, Jace. I’m here, baby. Just let go. I’ll catch you.”

  His arms tighten around me, and I cry with him. His pain has become my pain, and I know that no matter how much I wish I could take this away from him, I can’t. So I hold him close, refusing to let go. He needs to know it’s okay.

  He needs to know he’s loved.

  And he is.

  So much.

  §

  Lying in bed, Jace’s head rests on my chest, his right hand absentmindedly rubbing my stomach, every so often placing a kiss to it. Running my fingers through his hair, I try to keep my focus on the baseball game we’re watching, but I’m working up the courage to ask what happened today. I know Drew gave me the rundown, but I want to hear it from Jace.

  I stayed on the deck with him while he cried, and then I led him into the shower to warm him up. He held on to me as I shampooed his hair and washed his body. We both chuckled when I couldn’t go farther than his waist because I couldn’t bend over, and then he kissed me. The passion and love in that one kiss told me everything is going to be okay.

  That Jace will be okay.

  “Stella?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I show you the letter?” he asks gently, turning his body to look up at me.

  Cupping his jaw, I give him a soft smile. “Of course.”

  He climbs off the bed and goes to the jeans he was wearing earlier, still lying on the floor. He comes back over to the bed with a small worn envelope. Lying down next to me, he rests his head on my shoulder as I carefully open it. Pulling out the single piece of paper
, I unfold it and notice the date at the top before reading the words under it.

  April 12, 2006.

  Jace,

  I have written this letter a dozen times, but I never know how to word it.

  I want you to know how sorry I am for that night. I shouldn’t have been drinking, and I never should have gotten behind the wheel.

  I’m sorry for what I took from you.

  I’m sorry for what I almost took from your family.

  Twenty-five years doesn’t seem long enough, but it’s just enough time to miss out on my daughter’s childhood. Seeing her graduate, walking her down the aisle. But I made that decision the second I got behind the wheel.

  I’m not asking for your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it.

  Just know how incredibly sorry I am.

  I want you to know I won’t be asking for parole.

  I plan to do the twenty-five.

  Especially when the two men I killed never even saw that number.

  -Barret Jones.

  Blinking away my tears, I look at Jace, who is staring right at me.

  “Wow.” Now I understand why Jace was so shaken up and upset. “Wasn’t April when he was sentenced?”

  “Yeah, that date was a couple days after the hearing.”

  “How do you feel?” I ask tentatively, careful to keep my words soft.

  “Angry. He more or less went to bed and never woke up. Bryan and Casey, pain and fear were their final thoughts, and that’s something I can’t push past. It tears at me. I’m sad for Jones’s family, of course. They were innocent to his crimes as well. And—” He breaks off, clearing his throat free of emotion.

  “What else?”

  “I miss them, Stell.” His eyes mist over again, and my heart clenches.

  “Come here.”

  Switching off the television, I roll over to Jace, and he moves in close, burying his face in my neck. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder, and we both lie in silence, no other words needing to be shared as I fall asleep securely in Jace’s arms.

  §

  Stepping from the shower, I briskly towel-dry my hair and then wrap another around my body. When I go into the bedroom, Jace is still asleep in the bed, so as carefully as I can manage, I grab the clothes I left sitting on the bed and tiptoe back to the bathroom. Getting dressed, I toss the towels in the hamper and shut the light off.