by Addison Fox
She’d loved her father to distraction, but the things she’d learned since losing him had been difficult to reconcile with the man she knew. Although her initial response had been to lash out at Grier, with time she’d come to acknowledge her underlying anger was with Jonas.
His child had been raised without him, four thousand miles away, and no one had known about her. Kate wasn’t even sure if her mother knew, not that it mattered any longer. What did matter was that her father had made choices, just as Patty had. And neither of them had made choices that put their daughter first.
“Hey, you.” She looked up to see Jason smiling at her from the doorway to the kitchen.
“Hey, yourself.” His tie hung loose around his neck and she saw the dark grooves under his eyes as he walked toward the counter. “I’m glad you’re here. I thought you had to work late.”
His gaze drifted toward the clock on the microwave. “Seven thirty’s not late enough?”
“It’s plenty late.” She lifted up and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
The surly expression vanished as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. She lifted her hands to his neck and felt the hard set of his shoulders—and the underlying tension—as he deepened the kiss.
Kate lost herself in the moment, allowing the rest of the day to fade away. The thoughts she’d carried all day about Patty, her father, their disillusionment—none of it had a place here. With him.
“Mmmmm,” Jason whispered against her lips. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too. But I do have to admit I didn’t miss you enough to wait for pizza. Go change and I’ll get you a few slices.”
He nodded and Kate watched him walk out of the kitchen, rubbing his neck. Something was wrong and it didn’t take an MBA to figure it out. After getting the pizza set up, she opened the bottle of wine she’d picked up earlier. They’d share it together and maybe it would be enough to loosen a few of those knots.
• • •
Jason threw his shirt in his dry-cleaning bag and tried to get his raging anger under control. His day had been shit and he knew it was only going to get worse if he didn’t put a lid on it.
Seemed like all he ever did where his father was concerned.
But fuck.
He dragged on a fresh T-shirt, the late-day meeting with his father still playing through his mind on a loop. They’d lost a fairly large client and his father was on a tear. Forget the fact that Jason had warned him the client was in danger of bolting over six months ago, their ire at losing Grier on their business rapidly escalating when no one qualified was put in to replace her.
They all owned the problem, but as partner on the account, it was his ass getting chewed. And if it were as simple as that, he’d have taken it.
But it wasn’t that simple. And when had his father turned into such a cutthroat, heartless bastard?
He wasn’t stupid. He knew his father hadn’t created one of the city’s best financial firms by playing nice and keeping his hands neatly folded in his lap. But what the hell? Today had been bad, even for Tom Shriver.
His father had even had the audacity to suggest part of the loss was tied to Jason bringing Kate to a client dinner a few weeks before. The insult had been couched around the fact that the clients had known Jason and Grier were engaged and now here he was bringing another woman to dinner barely six months later, but he knew it was more.
Good old Tom didn’t approve of his choice in Kate and he wasn’t going to keep his opinions to himself.
The smell of pizza hit him as he walked into the kitchen and the scent of pepperoni and warm dough went a fair bit toward cheering him up. The glass of wine breathing on the counter added to his sense of well-being and he reached for it like a drowning man scrambling for a life preserver.
“Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Grab a seat and I’ll bring part two of the cure. Warm pizza will do wonders for a shitty day.”
He stopped short as he crossed to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. “How’d you know my day was shitty?”
“Wild guess.”
“I’ve had better.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” He reached for a slice of pizza, the anger he’d tried to rid himself of in the bedroom bubbling to the surface.
“I had coffee this morning with Patrice Thompson. She’s an interesting woman.”
Grateful for the change in topic, Jason pushed aside his frustration over his father. “How so?”
“It’s clear she carries a lot of guilt over what happened with my father years ago.”
“Maybe she should. From what Grier told you, she ran out on him. Pregnant, no less, then told him he couldn’t see Grier.”
“It can’t be all on her.”
Jason actually thought it could—especially knowing Patrice Thompson—but he was curious to understand why Kate would defend the woman. “Why not?”
“He could have gone after her. Maybe he should have.” She let out a small sigh as she played with the butterfly at her neck. “Which is very weird for me to say because if he had gone after her, I wouldn’t be here. But as a story, it just seems like a shame and a waste of something really special.”
“Things work out the way they’re supposed to.”
“That’s awfully fatalistic.”
“It’s true.” He took another bite of his pizza. “People make shitty choices every day. When they’re our parents, it’s just a bit harder to accept.”
“Patty and my father aren’t like your parents.”
He stopped at that and set down the pizza. The anger he’d managed to push aside came back with a vengeance, picking up a good head of steam like a hurricane pushing its way through the Atlantic. “I fail to see how it’s any different. It’s two people in a relationship insistent on fucking it up.”
“And now you’re just throwing stones.”
“Excuse me?”
Both of them went quiet, the room full of dead air before Kate spoke. “Come on, Jason. Relationships are hard. We’ve not exactly made a model go of it.”
“When did this discussion become about us?”
“The moment you walked in here, full of anger and frustration you refuse to share with me.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Those gray eyes that held so much emotion—so much understanding—stormed over at his words. “And we’re right back to that. What, exactly, wouldn’t I understand? Your big, bad job? Or your father’s expectations for you that you have no real interest in fulfilling? Or all the bad, horrible things we hold inside that we refuse to tell the other about so we have sex instead?”
He knew they’d had issues connecting—had chalked it up to the fact they still needed to get into a groove. But he’d thought the groove worked just fine in bed. “I wasn’t aware that was a problem.”
“There isn’t a problem. Not with sex. The problem is when the sex becomes a convenient excuse not to talk. And it’s an excuse we use. A lot.”
“It’s a new relationship, Kate. We’re working on it.”
“No, Jason. We’re setting patterns we need to fix.”
“When the hell did your teaching degree suddenly include courses on couples therapy?”
“You know, I’ve always admired that you faced your relationship with Grier head-on. There was a problem and you came to Alaska to fix it with her. What I can’t understand is why I don’t deserve the same.”
“Grier was different.”
Jason knew the moment the words were out he’d waved a red flag. And from the look on her face, he also knew their shitty argument had just erupted into a fight.
“How was Grier different?”
“She did this. What I do. She knew and understood.”
“And I’m just some fucking country bumpkin teacher who wouldn’t know about the big bad world of New York finance if it bit me on the ass? Is that about right?”
“That’s no
t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” She spread her arms wide before folding them over her chest. “Explain it to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, Jason. I guess I don’t. Which is why I now understand something else very clearly.”
The lack of fight in her words had him on high alert. Whatever anger had bubbled between them had just taken a rapid detour and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “Kate—”
“It’s time I left.”
“No, Kate—” He stood up, reached for her and felt the stab to his heart when she backed out of his reach. “That’s not the answer.”
“It is the answer. And it’s been the answer for quite some time, only neither of us wanted to ask the question.”
Chapter Eight
“Why’d you leave?” Grier carried two steaming mugs into the living room of the cottage she and Mick shared on the outskirts of Indigo.
“It’s not obvious?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Kate took the mug and allowed the heat to seep into her body, eager for the warmth. She’d been so cold for the last two days.
It had all started when Jason slept in the spare bedroom, leaving her to toss and turn in the bed all night. The cold, empty feeling had persisted throughout her myriad of flights to Alaska, the endless hours leaving her with nothing to do but think. And it had settled deep in her bones by the time she’d reached her sister’s, full of anger and a world of hurt.
She recounted the last few weeks since coming home from Indigo, detailing all that had happened and filling in the gaps where Grier had questions.
“I’m not enough for him, Grier. No matter how we feel about each other, we can’t seem to get past that.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it.” Grier shook her head but her voice was gentle when she spoke. “I think you ran away.”
“Yeah, well, he hasn’t come after me, so we’re a matched pair.”
“But—” Grier broke off, and Kate was curious to see the play of emotions on her face.
“What? You can say it.”
“He cares for you. I know it. I think he loves you. None of the things you’ve described should keep you from being together. The nosy people at parties aren’t you and Jason. His parents aren’t you and Jason. His job isn’t you and Jason. None of that should matter.”
Kate’s gaze rode toward the ceiling as she tried to explain what felt so hopeless in New York. “It’s not those things by themselves. It’s the way we talk about those things. The way we share our problems. Or don’t, as it were.”
The light wisps of steam curling from her mug caught Kate’s attention and she watched them float up, then dissipate, like her hopes and dreams for her future.
She’d gone to New York with such excitement. Such belief in her future with Jason. And in a matter of weeks—not even a full season—it had all floated away.
• • •
Jason roamed through the park, a paper cup of coffee in hand, and watched the endless parade of people going about their business. He’d already called Grier to check on Kate and gotten the confirmation she was in Indigo, safe—and tired—from her trip.
He ran his hand over the butterfly pendant in his pocket. Kate had left the necklace on top of his dresser, laid out over a small note that told him how much she loved him and cared for him. How much she valued their last few months together. Quick and to the point, just like Kate.
There was no question in his mind he was going after her, but he knew she needed a few days. Knew that he, too, needed a few days. And when he did go to her, ready to give her what she needed, it was essential he could accept what she offered in return.
He loved her, but if he didn’t make some changes in his life, that love was never going to be enough to see them through.
And they both deserved better.
His conversation with Grier had also been far more cathartic than he’d realized. She’d forced him to look at the shame and embarrassment he’d lived with in the last year and question if he was using it as an excuse to push Kate away.
To keep from fully engaging in their relationship.
God bless Grier, he thought. The woman had an uncanny knack for going straight to the heart of things, even when it was hard or uncomfortable.
And she was uncompromising enough not to sugarcoat it.
Yes, he’d been an asshole, she’d railed at him. And yes, he’d made a mistake. One he’d been forgiven for. The real question was if he could move past it and make the life for himself he really wanted.
With a determined toss of the wrist, Jason threw the coffee cup at a wire garbage can and headed for the park’s exit. He had some issues he needed to deal with at work before he went after Kate.
And it was long past time he dealt with them.
• • •
“You look a little shell-shocked.” Avery held up a bottle of wine, gesturing for Kate’s glass. “So you need to tell us what will make you feel better. A good old-fashioned cry-fest. A full-on ‘He’s a pig who deserves to rot’ man bashing. Or my personal favorite, a mix of both.”
Kate glanced from Avery to Sloan and Grier, both busy putting out various trays of junk food, who nodded their head in unison.
“We’ll take whatever approach you need,” Sloan assured her as she laid a stack of napkins next to an open pizza box.
“Enticing as it sounds, he’s not a pig and I know that. And I think my tears have been used up. As a matter of fact,” Kate broke off, curious to realize it, “I haven’t cried all that much. It’s weird.”
“You’ve done a lot of crying over the last year.” Avery patted her arm as she took a seat on the couch next to her and set the bottle on the coffee table. “Sometimes there just aren’t any tears left.”
Kate knew Avery’s history with the town hockey god, Roman Forsyth, and she could only figure the woman spoke from experience. All of Indigo had known she and Roman had something rare—a love that transcended their age. When he’d left to pursue his NHL career, Avery had been the one left behind, so when she talked about using up tears, she probably knew what she was talking about. Plus, she had also dealt with the death of a parent.
By some unspoken understanding, the women changed the subject for a while, covering everything from summer plans to an upcoming shopping trip to Anchorage—ostensibly to shop for bridesmaid dresses but which was really just an excuse to buy shoes, Sloan promised—and a funny story about Mick’s nephew who was here visiting the previous month.
Through all of it, the conversation was easy and simple and Kate knew that was what she’d missed.
When Grier had first come to Indigo, followed shortly by Sloan who had come up to offer support, Kate had been envious of how quickly the two women had formed an airtight friendship with Avery. As someone who’d lived here her whole life, she’d never made friendships all that well and the few women who she was friends with had enough of their own problems to deal with.
She’d never had a support system and she’d never learned how to talk through her problems. And she hadn’t had a great example in her parents, her mother especially. Every problem was a challenge to be borne, not something to talk about, dissect and learn from.
“Oh my God.” Kate sat up and waved her empty wine glass.
“What’s the matter?” Sloan broke off in the middle of her excitement over a pair of winter boots she’d gotten for seventy-five percent off online.
“It’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“This,” Kate waved her hand, impatient to explain what she meant. “Leaving. Coming back. This. Me.”
Grier took her wineglass and pulled her in tight for a hug. “Sounds like a breakthrough if I’ve ever heard one. Although I wouldn’t let him off the hook too soon.”
“No.” Kate smiled and took her first easy breath in months. “We’ve both been stupid and he has to learn to stop lashing out whenever t
he subject of his asshole father comes up, but I’ve made some bad choices. And I’ve had expectations no one can fulfill.”
“Your mom?” Avery said, her voice gentle.
“Yeah.”
“What’s this about?”
Kate turned toward Grier, so full of words she was surprised they made any sense, even as they continued to trip out in a rush. “Our father loved your mother, Grier. Truly loved her and I didn’t fully understand that until recently. But he did love my mother, too. He told me that and about how he tried hard to make a life with her. She’s the one who never got past a terribly unrealistic set of expectations for her life.”
“It was bad?” Grier probed.
“That’s the worst part. It wasn’t bad so much as just continued disillusionment and distaste. It never mattered what he did, it was never good enough. His Christmas displays on the house were never festive enough. The vacation we took was never enough fun or someone had gotten too much sunburn. The town didn’t appreciate her when she made enough deviled eggs for the Fourth of July celebration to buy out the grocery store. Nothing was ever enough because her expectations sat somewhere in the stratosphere.”
“Kate.” Sloan’s voice was gentle. “What does this have to do with Jason? From what you said, the fight was about his job and his reticence to explain what was going on.”
Without warning, the tears she hadn’t shed welled up, spilling over her cheeks with a hot rush. “That’s just it. We do need to work through that and I’m not going to ignore that it hurts me when he won’t share. But I need to own my expectations of our relationship. And I haven’t done that.”
The wave of tears continued and she took solace in the fact that they all sat and waited for her to go on, doing nothing more than hand her a few tissues. And when she was ready to speak, Avery on one side and Grier on the other, they each held on to her, Grier holding her hand while Avery rubbed her shoulder.
“I always thought my life would hold more. More than Indigo. More than teaching. More than waiting for someone to come into it. And I believed that when someone did come into my life, it would be different. I would be different. But I’m still me. All my insecurities and past hurts haven’t simply vanished because I found Jason and moved away.”
