Someone Old: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 1)

by Lacy Williams

  Dad was still ashen. She didn't like the rattle in his breathing, but she wouldn't know for certain what was wrong until a doctor got ahold of him.

  Jax boosted her dad into the passenger seat, and then shut the door. She'd planned to have Dad scoot to the middle so she wouldn't have to sit next to the man who'd abandoned her three years ago, but that didn't make sense, did it? The less Dad was moved and bumped around, the better.

  She gritted her teeth as she picked up her skirt and followed Jax around the front of the truck.

  He held the door open for her.

  She hated the way that simple action made her remember.

  At least he didn't try to help her in.

  But her shoe caught in the mass of tulle, and she nearly tumbled face-first into the seat. The fabric held her heel tight. She heard a distinct rip.

  She bit her lip, blinking against hot moisture that burned her eyes. It was just a dress. She'd probably already ruined it when she'd knelt beside Dad on the muddy ground.

  Jax scooped her into his arms in a perfect imitation of a carry me over the threshold hold. Except he wasn't her groom.

  And she didn't want him holding her.

  Before she could protest, he'd hefted her onto the bench seat and let her go.

  All without a grunt or any sign that lifting her had fazed him at all.

  Stupid man. Stupid gym rat.

  He slid in beside her before she was ready, his shoulder nudging hers as she wrangled the dress beneath the steering wheel and across the seat.

  She didn't want to jostle Dad, which meant she was the one jostled as Jax shut his truck door and then cranked the engine.

  It was impossible to believe she could feel the press of his thigh with all the layers of tulle between them, but heat flushed up her neck and into her face anyway.

  He glanced at her sideways, smiling grimly as he put the truck in gear and eased on the gas. He'd always seen what she'd hidden so cleverly from everyone else.

  She tried to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go. So she focused intently on Dad, whose color was still bad, breathing still too shallow.

  Where the gravel drive met the state highway, Jax asked, "Where's the closest hospital?"

  She jerked one thumb to the right toward Sawyer Creek. "About five miles. It's the second building on Main Street. Hard to miss."

  He'd probably seen it if he'd driven through the sleepy, two-stoplight town on his way to the B&B.

  Way back when, he'd mentioned a couple of times that he'd like to see where she'd grown up, but she hadn’t been in any rush to take him home to Sawyer Creek, figuring they had plenty of time in the future to do that. If only she'd known that future with Jax Morris was never meant to be.

  She'd been so wrong about their trajectory. It still hurt to think about, which was why she did her best to keep a tight lid on her anguish, to keep it locked in the deepest corner of her heart.

  She reached for Dad's wrist, used two fingers to take his pulse again. Still thready.

  "You want to tell me why Jax Morris crashed your wedding?" her dad asked. Even though his voice was weak, his brain seemed to be working fine.

  "No idea," she said curtly.

  Not that it'd stop him from prying. She'd let him back into her life a year ago to make Nicholas happy, and ever since, her relationship with her dad had been rocky at best.

  He peeked around her to Jax. "Why don't you tell me then, young fellow."

  Claire tried to ignore the intense silence coming off the man beside her, but she felt his gaze on her briefly before his eyes went back to the road.

  Jax said nothing, which didn’t keep Dad from asking more. “What's the Rookie of the Year doing with my girl?"

  She wasn't his girl. Hadn't been for a long time.

  Jax barked a short burst of laughter. "I'm not Rookie of the Year." Not yet.

  Claire easily heard what he hadn't said, because she'd known him. The confidence that had come close to outright arrogance had been attractive to her once.

  "With that arm and your batting average, you'll be top three by the end of this season. I've been following your career in the minors, kid."

  Another glance in her direction from Dad, this one loaded.

  She bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile. "Don't look at me. I hate baseball."

  She'd avoided any connection to the game after Jax's desertion. It'd been a matter of self-preservation at first, then just a habit. She didn't watch games, didn't look at scores or stats. Didn't care one iota about the sport. Not even rec league stuff.

  Dad groaned and shifted.

  "You okay?" she asked.

  "I'm not dead yet," he grouched. Maybe he didn't like her hovering. Well, too bad. There were a lot of things she didn't like about him.

  He pressed on with his inquisition. "So what're you doing here, Rookie?"

  Another glance from Jax. She jutted her chin out, refusing to return it. She wanted to know, too. Let him say it.

  "Claire and I used to know each other."

  Such a simple statement was laughable. She could only find a bitter smile. "No, we didn't."

  Chapter 2

  Outside the Sawyer Creek ER—if you could call a couple of curtained-off cubicles an ER—Jax sat in the tiniest waiting room he'd ever seen.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tugged it free to check the display. A text message from his dad's number. Again.

  Jax tapped the ignore button with reflex-like speed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Eventually the old man would take the hint and leave him alone.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the registration desk. He'd been here for a half hour. After dropping Claire and her dad at the door, Jax had swung his truck around to a parking spot and jogged inside. But by the time he'd made it in, Claire was already disappearing behind one of the curtains alongside her dad.

  Should he stay or go?

  Claire had been less than happy to see him. And she was dealing with her dad's health issues. Not to mention her missing groom. Where the heck was the guy?

  Jax couldn't wrap his mind around how somebody could be such an idiot as to be engaged to Claire—be almost to the altar!—and give her up.

  Except, he'd been that much of an idiot, hadn't he?

  What he was doing? He'd come to Sawyer Creek on an impulse. He'd only been called up to the Coyotes a few days ago, had been flown in to meet the owner on the team's private jet, and was officially due to report in at the practice facility in Dallas on Monday morning.

  What had he expected, for Claire to have hit the pause button on her life? To have waited for him after he'd walked away? Who was he kidding?

  He'd wanted to play in the majors for as long as he could remember. And after only a few weeks of playing in the minors, he was so close he could taste it. The dream had kept him alive through some very dark days.

  So what did it say about him that the only thing he could think about when he'd been flying to Dallas was Claire?

  He sat in the waiting room, occupied with his thoughts for who knew how long. Folks had been traipsing in and out of there, some stealing glances and some flat-out watching him, but all of them whispered. It made him uncomfortable. Is this what life in the majors would be like?

  Hours later, he perked up at movement from the curtained hallway.

  Claire emerged, now in a set of pale blue scrubs. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear and was speaking softly.

  And Jax was enough of a jerk to strain his ears to pick up her conversation.

  "—call me back. I don't know what happened. Did I say something? Do something? I—I think we could still fix things. Please. Call me back."

  She wasn't speaking softly after all. Her voice was small. Broken.

  Hearing it was knife to his gut.

  She must've been calling the runaway groom. Jax hated that guy.

  He stood and went to her.

  She stared down at the phone, her nos
e wrinkled in consternation. She turned her head slightly at his approach, then did a double-take. "What're you doing here?"

  Still not happy to see him.

  "Waiting for you."

  Her expression changed to wild incredulity before she blanked it. "Well, you should go home. All the way to Dallas." Because I don't need you here.

  She returned to staring at the phone. Tapped her fingers on the screen, but she wasn't activating an app or accomplishing any task. He could see her brain working in the rapid movements of her eyes.

  "How's your dad?"

  "He has cancer," she snapped. "How do you think?"

  Oh, Claire. He wanted to take her in his arms. Comfort her.

  At the shift of his feet, her eyes darted up from the dark face of the smartphone.

  Right. No touching.

  He cleared his throat. "Did you know? Before today?"

  Her scathing glare hit its mark, and heat ran through his chest. "Yes. We pushed up the wedding so Dad could—"

  She shook her head, cutting herself off.

  Acid churned in his veins. Some part of him—a glutton for punishment—asked, "Where is Nick, anyway?" The jerk should be here.

  "Nicholas," she snapped again. "And it's none of your business."

  Because she didn't know.

  She went back to staring at the black phone screen, and he noticed her hands trembling.

  "Hey." He touched her then. Couldn't keep from it. He cupped one bare elbow in his hand. "What can I do? I want to help."

  She shook him off. Sniffed deeply. Wiped her cheek with one hand, even though he didn't see any sign of tears. She shook the phone angrily. "I can't… Dad is really worried about his dog being alone all night."

  Hungry dog. Jax could work with that. "Do you want me to go and feed him?"

  She looked at him as if he were crazy. "Do I want you to go and snoop through my dad's house? No thanks." Her expression changed to suspicion now. "How long…? Why've you been sitting out here all day anyway?"

  For you. Because he might be an idiot, but if there was any chance she might need him—for anything—he'd wanted to be close.

  A woman in scrubs came out of a nearby door marked Employees Only carrying a large black garbage bag with hints of white tulle peeking through the cinched-up opening. She approached Claire, who sighed and took the bag from her hands. "Thanks." Claire held the phone out to the woman. "And thanks for letting me borrow this."

  The nurse sent Jax a curious glance. "No problem, hun. Did you get ahold of who you needed to?"

  Claire nodded, a wan smile on her face. But she hadn't, had she? Suddenly, her frustration over the phone made sense. She'd borrowed the phone because she must've left hers at the B&B.

  "The doctor's going to keep your dad overnight, and they're both saying you should go home and rest."

  Claire's lips firmed into that stubborn line, but she nodded, crossing her arms over her middle.

  "I'll make sure she gets home," he said.

  Claire glared at him, but the woman was already turning away, ducking back through that door.

  "I don't need your help," she muttered. She stalked past the waiting room, lugging her bagged-up wedding dress toward the double sliding doors that led to the ER parking lot.

  It wasn't hard for Jax to keep pace with her. "You got money on you for a cab, then?"

  "No cabs in Sawyer Creek," she returned sharply.

  So what was she going to do? Wave down someone she knew and ask for a ride? That didn't seem out of the realm of possibility…

  But she stopped on the sidewalk outside. He stopped beside her.

  Muggy air enveloped him, sticking to his skin after the A/C inside. The sun had gone down, but it hadn't helped much with the temperature.

  Jax dug in his pocket, came up with his phone, and held it out to Claire.

  She looked from it to his face. Her expression was carefully blank again, all hints of emotion erased.

  "Somebody else you need to call?" He could out-stubborn her any day. He'd always had the skill, and they both knew it.

  Finally, she shook her head slightly. "Quinn just changed her phone number. I have it programmed into my phone, but I can't remember it."

  A pair of headlights swept over them as a sedan pulled into the ER parking lot.

  Jax shrugged. "Then call the B&B. She's probably still there."

  Claire put a hand over her face. When she spoke, her words were muffled. "I can't. Don't want to make any more of a scene. Every busybody in town is probably already talking about how I got jilted at the altar—you—this. I don’t want to make things worse for Nicholas." She lifted the puffy trash bag, agitated.

  Two people got out of the nearby car. One was limping badly, leaning on the other, but they both still managed to steal a glimpse of Jax and Claire.

  She was right. Jax had grown up in a farm town, so he knew about local busybodies. He'd like to think the folks of Sawyer Creek would leave a dejected bride alone, but a juicy story like that would just prime the gossip pump. "I'll drive you to your dad's place."

  She started to shake her head again, but as she noticed the man and woman approaching from the parking lot, she changed her mind. "Fine."

  It was a mistake to get into Jax's truck again. What if Nicholas found out? Claire knew it, but she did it anyway. Her choices right now were severely limited.

  She'd left her phone, her clothes, and her car at the B&B. Unless Quinn had moved her car, which had been the original plan.

  She was supposed to have been on her honeymoon right now.

  She rattled off instructions to her dad's bungalow on the other side of town. It would take five minutes to get there. Five minutes, and she'd be rid of Jax.

  She couldn't believe he'd waited six hours in the ER waiting room. Did he really not have anything better to do? Or was this some desperate ploy to win her back?

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest. Dad. She needed to focus on Dad. Who'd kept insisting that things weren't as bad as they seemed. He wasn't on his deathbed yet.

  His cancer diagnosis three months ago had been a nasty shock. They'd still been tiptoeing around each other after she'd made the first attempts to reconcile with him.

  And then she'd felt a monumental urgency to have him be a part of her wedding. Her mom had died years ago, and Dad was the only one left who could give her away.

  And although Dad was getting around easily on his own—for now—who knew how long that would last? The doctors had only given him a fifty-percent chance of beating the cancer because of the late stage.

  She'd wanted him to be a part of her wedding now, because he might not be here in the future.

  Why had Nicholas abandoned her? He knew this was important to her. He’s the one who’d pushed the reconciliation. And he’d understood her need to have her father a part of the wedding, even though it meant moving the date up. And then, he’d jilted her.

  Tears stung her throat.

  "This it?" Jax's gruff question had her blinking her eyes open, swallowing back the ball of grief that choked her.

  He'd pulled right up to the curb. Her father's house wasn't much. Two-bedrooms, a tiny lawn that really needed to be mowed, one big picture window in the living room. Her car was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Dad's.

  She hadn't thought this through. She'd been planning to use his car to drive out to the B&B later, but of course his car would be parked there.

  She was so out of sorts, she couldn’t think.

  Jax didn't need to know any of that. His truck idling, he watched her. She could feel his gaze like a physical touch, even though she was looking out the window, pretending to ignore him.

  He'd always been larger-than-life. He'd had presence, even as a lanky twenty-year-old.

  "Thanks for the ride." She pushed open the door and slid out, wrangling her pitiful dress-in-a-bag out with her, then shut the door decisively behind her.

  She prayed for him to drive
away as she trudged up the sidewalk that was cracked and splintered, grass and weeds peeking through. She didn’t look back.

  Instead, the engine shut off. A car door opened and closed behind her.

  She made it to the postage-stamp-sized front porch. Hurry. Where would her father hide his spare key?

  There was only one flowerpot on the corner of the porch, its inhabitant long-dead. Only a scraggly brown stick poking from the dirt inside showed that anything had ever bloomed there. She tipped up the pot. No key.

  Jax joined her.

  She hated that she didn't have to look to know it. Hated that his nearness could still make her heart beat faster, her skin prickle.

  He didn't say anything.

  Where was that key?

  There were two large, flat rocks in the empty flowerbed next to the porch. She stepped off and reached for the first one. She dug her fingers into the cool soil and lifted the rock. Nothing.

  "Go back home," she told Jax. "I don't want you here."

  "You don't?"

  She heard the arrogance in his question and turned her head to snap at him, only to find him dangling a silver key from his fingers, which were lifted above his head where he'd obviously just pulled it from the top of the outside window sill.

  "I don't have a home," he said.

  His words hit her squarely in the solar plexus, making her feel as if she couldn't breathe.

  But whatever seriousness she'd imagined in his statement disappeared when he grinned. "I mean, they put me up in this fancy hotel for now. I'll need to shop for a new house. Something big."

  For all the parties he'd no doubt throw for his teammates and whatever women he wanted around.

  He hadn't meant his I don't have a home the way she'd taken it. He wasn't that deep. She needed to remember that. Remember exactly how shallow he'd been once upon a time, when she'd thought they were...something.

  "You could come down and help me house-hunt."

  "No." She stood, brushing her hand against the scrubs. She stepped back onto the porch and held her palm out.