by Maisey Yates
She believed it. That was the scary part. She believed it with a strange kind of effortlessness. It wasn’t hard to believe it, not when he said it like that.
“So what do we...do?” she asked. “We’re just going to start planning a house?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I was thinking so.”
“I...” She tried to breathe around the tightness in her chest. “I just don’t really understand what’s happening to my life.”
“It’s becoming not just your life,” he said slowly. “I mean, that’s what I’m realizing. My life has to have something to do with yours. Because it’s going to have something to do with our child. And if we want to be successful, I think from now on it’s our lives. If you have a need, it’s my need too.”
She frowned. “Does that go both ways?”
“I don’t know about that,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It seems different. When you’re the one carrying the baby.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re right, actually. It has to be... It has to be our lives. And that means...even if we aren’t a couple, we have to consider each other’s needs. Because otherwise we are going to find ourselves in a situation where we can’t possibly cohabit for another minute, and everything is going to be toxic for the baby, and we don’t want that.”
He shook his head gravely. “No.”
“So let’s do it, then,” she said.
“All right,” he responded.
She took the last bite of her ice cream just as he did, and he stood up, reaching out toward her. She frowned, not quite sure what he wanted. He leaned in, taking hold of her bowl, and she realized he meant to take it to the kitchen for her.
“You don’t have to...”
She scrambled to try to stand, but that brought her right up in front of him, their noses almost touching, a scant inch between their chests, between their bodies. Then she could feel his heat. Those blue eyes that had just shone with honesty now had heat in them, and they were burning into hers, and she found that she wanted to... She wanted to touch that heat again. Explore it.
No. This man was wound around her life in a thousand different ways, and right now she needed it all to work out for the sake of their child.
The last thing she needed was to hope for things to work out for herself.
This wasn’t about her.
It couldn’t be.
She shoved her ice cream bowl at him. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he said slowly, backing away from her and then walking into the kitchen, taking the bowls to the sink and rinsing them. She suddenly felt like this was all too much. Ice cream, a house and clean dishes.
The electricity every time they got near each other.
She didn’t want to need him. Not like this. She couldn’t afford to.
So yes, he was right. They needed to be an “us.” But she also needed to remember to hold part of herself back.
To keep something of herself for her.
“So,” he said, turning back toward her and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “When are we going to talk to your family?”
* * *
VANESSA HAD ASKED herself about a hundred times what she was thinking since putting together the dinner at her parents’ house.
She didn’t know why she was telling her entire family at once. What she should have done was get together with her mother on neutral territory, at Mustard Seed or Bellissima and tell her, and then see if maybe she would tell Olivia and her father on Vanessa’s behalf.
All day at school, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. The dinner loomed large over her head. And Jacob was watching her, as if he knew something was happening, and was trying to figure out what.
She knew that he would want to be there. She did. But she was hiding the fact that it was happening from him because she just couldn’t... She didn’t want him charging in there and being a white knight for her again.
Like he’d done with ice cream and houses and any number of things.
Because it was just too strange. And she didn’t think she could possibly handle it.
Plus, what was she going to do? Introduce him as the father of her baby, but not her boyfriend or fiancé?
The man she was going to move in with and make a joint family with?
Why not? Why are you still hiding yourself? Why are you still trying to make them okay with who you are?
Well, she didn’t know. She didn’t know the answer to any of it; all she knew were her panicked feelings, and the thousand ways she had run through the scenario in her mind.
Someone would probably ask if she had used drugs at all since the baby was conceived.
That was the really upsetting question that she was waiting for.
The one that she was going to have to call on all of her weaponized serenity to handle.
While no one might come out and call her irresponsible, they would certainly imply it. There would be a lot of concern, and that came back around to the fact that no one thought she was overly competent.
“Okay,” Jacob said when they were alone in the classroom. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just...stuff.”
“You are a really bad liar.”
“That isn’t true,” she said. “I was a really good liar in high school. I used to get away with a ton of stuff.”
“Well, you’re bad at it now. Must be the sobriety.”
“Probably,” she said wearily. “I don’t want to tell you what’s going on.”
“Then that’s a sure bet that you should,” he said, walking over to where she was standing and planting his hands on the countertop on either side of her.
He was so close, the scent of his skin teasing her.
She wondered how long it would take for her to forget that she was attracted to him. How long it would take for her to begin to see him as commonplace.
“Vanessa,” he said. “It’s us, remember?”
“I’m seeing my parents tonight,” she blurted.
“And you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No,” she said.
“And why the hell not?”
“Because. Because they’re going to ask questions. Uncomfortable questions. And I don’t want to—”
“You’re ashamed,” he said.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “And I hate that because shame is something that has created a whole lot of damage in my life, and I’ve done so much work to get rid of it. But my parents excel at making me feel that way.”
“I want to go,” he said.
“Are you going to...follow me there and come in without my permission?”
He looked at her long and hard. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
And in that moment, she realized she almost needed him to. Because asking for help felt beyond her. If she asked for help, it meant she needed it. If she needed his help, then she might need him.
But if he didn’t give her a choice, then...there wasn’t a whole lot she could do.
“I’m coming with you,” he said like he’d read her mind.
She knew he couldn’t read her mind, but even still, she wasn’t offended by him pushing in that way. She wanted him to. She couldn’t help herself.
“Fine. You can come with me. But it’s going to be weird.”
“Better weird on a team, right?”
“Who are you?” she said. “Because I have to tell you, my initial impression of you was not that you were a big team player. Or that you were just waiting to join your life to someone else’s.”
“I forgot what being alive was about,” he said. “Up there on the mountain. Just feeling guilty over all the things that I’ve done that have been failures. But eventually, if I want to be better, I guess I have to make a choice to show up. That’s what helping Gabe out here at the school is about. And it means I have to step up now too. I can’t just not talk about this and make it go away. Facing it head-on... Tha
t seems the way to go to me.”
That made her deflate a little bit. Because wasn’t it so wrong to just hope that he wanted to be near her? That it was about her and not his desperate sense that he needed to make right things he had done wrong?
Well, it didn’t really matter. That was the main thing. It didn’t matter because the only thing that really mattered was the baby.
Do not need him.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Let’s go to my parents’ house.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
VANESSA HADN’T BEEN back to her childhood home—by design—since she’d come back to town. It was full of so many memories—good and bad—and just looking at the beautiful two-story home now made her feel like she might be crushed by them.
By regret. For her own actions and the actions of her parents. The distance that felt impossible to bridge with a dinner.
But she supposed it had to start somewhere.
Yay. With a dinner where you tell them you’re pregnant out of wedlock.
She realized Jacob had been here once before. When she’d miscarried in the downstairs bathroom while her parents had been out of town.
Pieces of her life were converging in such weird ways and she couldn’t say she liked it much.
Vanessa took a breath and rang the bell. The soft chimes were very much in keeping with her mother’s taste. Nothing too loud or startling.
Vanessa had always been loud and startling.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Vanessa. Stop feeling persecuted in advance.
The door opened, and Vanessa’s eyes collided with her mother’s.
A range of emotion moved through her face in a matter of moments. Happiness. Wariness. Irritation.
“Vanessa, it’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Vanessa said.
She had her hands clasped in front of her. So did her mom.
Neither of them moved to hug the other.
Vanessa wanted to, but she didn’t know if her mother did.
“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest.”
Her mother was smiling but Vanessa realized, too late now, that not telling her mom there would be another person would make Tamara Logan feel absolutely panicked about her hospitality.
She would be short food, short a place setting and wondering if the guest had dietary restrictions of any kind.
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said quickly. “It was a last-minute thing, I didn’t think that Jacob could come, but he could, and I felt like it was important. This is Jacob Dalton. He isn’t a vegetarian and he eats gluten.”
Jacob shot Vanessa a strange look.
“Nice to meet you,” Jacob said, sticking his hand out.
He looked every inch like the kind of man her parents would be thrilled for her to bring home. Salt of the earth, cowboy, a man who put on his Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes for a dinner with a woman’s parents.
Thankfully he didn’t look like a dirty sex fiend who’d painted her like a canvas and screwed her till she screamed.
Because that would not impress her parents so much.
“Of course, I know your parents,” her mother said to Jacob.
“I’m sure they know you,” he returned. “But then, I think everyone in town does.”
“Likely,” she said, a small smile teasing her lips. It wasn’t conceit. It was simply true. The Logans were a Gold Valley institution. “Come on in.”
The house smelled wonderful. Like her childhood. Like her mother’s Sunday dinners, like warmth and happiness and together.
It made her ache.
She saw her dad and her stomach twisted. It had been a few months since she’d seen him. They’d had lunch when she’d come to visit just before she’d decided to move back. But it was different to see him here. In this house that held so much of herself. So much of her history.
Her dad looked at Jacob, the crease between his brows deepening. “Jacob Dalton, right?” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He stuck his hand out, and Jacob took it, his eyes never wavering from her father’s. And her father had some scary eyes that often felt like they were looking through you, so as far as she was concerned it was an epic feat. “Good to see you too.”
“Vanessa,” her dad said, his greeting cautious.
“Hi, Dad,” she responded, her voice small.
She hated that. That she shrank down the minute she saw him. Like he might scold her.
Olivia was already there. Early of course. She said that Luke and Emma had nasty colds and had stayed home.
“You might have called ahead about that too, Olivia,” their mother said.
“Sorry,” Olivia responded.
“Well, now we know we’ll have plenty of food,” Vanessa commented brightly.
“By accident,” Tamara said. “Cole, will you help me with dinner?”
Her mother was obviously slightly stressed by the whole thing, but the exchange felt...normal. Normal family normal. Not Logan family normal. And that was a strange blessing.
Cole nodded and followed his wife from the room. That left the three of them in the dining room together alone.
And Vanessa hadn’t spoken to Olivia since their fight at her house a month before.
“Hi,” Vanessa said softly.
“Hi,” Olivia returned, looking speculatively at Jacob. “I’m Olivia,” she said to Jacob. “I’m not sure if we’ve met.”
“Probably not formally,” he responded.
“I guess some things have changed since we last spoke,” Olivia said.
“Yeah,” Vanessa responded. “Some things.”
They would be getting into what things soon enough.
Her parents returned, her father with a roast chicken he’d no doubt carved for her mother in the kitchen, her mother with a bowl of salad. She retreated again and came back with rolls and green beans.
Vanessa’s mouth watered, and along with hunger came a swell of emotion. She hadn’t had her mom’s cooking since she was eighteen years old.
She missed it.
And things might be hard with her and her parents, things might be hard with Olivia, but they’d both cooked for her. Meals they remembered were her favorites. And that counted for something. It counted for a lot in her world.
“Vanessa is working at your family ranch, right?” Cole asked.
“Yes,” Jacob responded. “I’m sure she can tell you all about it.”
She’d sort of rather he did. “I’m teaching art,” she said.
She could see the confusion sweep her parents’ faces. It occurred to her then they had no idea she painted and did sculpture. No idea of the role art played in her life, in her sobriety.
“It’s made a big difference to the kids,” Jacob said, bristling visibly at her parents’ silence. “I’m not an art kind of guy, and I admit that I was kind of skeptical about some of the things she was talking about, but it has really changed the attitude of some of these boys.”
“That’s...very good, Vanessa.” Her mom’s smile was cautious and small, but it was there. And Vanessa clung to that.
They found a groove of light small talk. Her dad talked about retirement; her mom talked about her work planning charity luncheons and the holiday craft bazaar. They enquired politely about how she was adjusting to leaving LA and “all that sunshine” behind.
“Well, I might have lost some sun, but at least I don’t have to pump my own gas,” she said. “The thing I missed most of all about Oregon, not getting out of my car in the bad weather.”
“Definitely an Oregon asset,” Olivia said.
“Though in LA do you have bad weather?” her dad asked.
“Well, sometimes it’s like the surface of the sun, so yes.” She cleared her throat. “I do have...” She swallowed and looked over at Jacob. “I do have something to tell you all.”
Three heads swiveled toward her, and the adrenaline made her start to shake. This was going to ruin it. She knew it right before the words ca
me out of her mouth. And she still had to say it.
“I’m... Jacob and I...are having a baby.”
Her father’s expression shifted, and the friendly demeanor he’d treated Jacob to all evening vanished, replaced by pure ice.
“Are you getting married?” Cole asked.
The question was absolutely directed at Jacob. But Vanessa wasn’t going to let him answer.
“No,” Vanessa said. “We’re not a couple.”
“We’re talking about some things,” he said, right on the heels of her words.
“Are we?” she asked.
“We’re in this together,” he said, his voice soft.
Vanessa looked at her parents. Her mom was pale, her lips set in a flat line and Vanessa felt like she was living the moment she’d managed to avoid in high school.
And her mom was handling it just as well as she might have when Vanessa was seventeen.
Her mom looked at her dad, desperation in her eyes. And fear.
The fear Vanessa hated most of all. Because that actually was her fault.
She’d made them afraid for her for so many years.
“Vanessa,” her mother said, her voice measured, “have you been...taking care of yourself?”
Heat rolled through Vanessa, her cheeks burning. She looked at Olivia, whose eyes had gone round and that meant that Vanessa was not imagining what her mom had just implied. And it was as shocking to Olivia as it felt to Vanessa.
She stared at her mom, waiting for her to revise her question. But Tamara Logan held her gaze, her eyes full of terror, full of steel. “Vanessa, it’s important that we know the whole truth about the situation. Important for the health and safety of the baby.”
Vanessa’s stomach twisted.
“Is that your way of asking if I’m on drugs, Mother?” Vanessa asked.
“Well, can you blame me? Vanessa, I’ve done a lot of reading on the opioid crisis. Relapse is common. Ron Wyden is taking a whole thing to US Senate to try to address the growing epidemic.”
“Well...great for Ron, Mom. I don’t see what that has to do with me. I told you I was sober, and I am.”
