Hold on Tight

by Serena Bell

  On top of that, the path he was on with his new trainer led back to the army, and the last thing he wanted was a perfect repeat of eight years ago: longing, falling, and then—like hitting bottom—being right back where they started, in too deep with him headed off to the ends of the earth.

  No. He had to do his level best to be what she’d asked him to be. Sam’s father, her friend, a guy who could put their needs above his irrational, gut-twisting craving for her.

  “Do you want me to drop you at your place?” she asked.

  The car got so quiet he could hear the rough in-and-out of Sam’s breath. They were both waiting. Each for the other.

  “Probably for the best,” he said, at the same time she said, “I should, shouldn’t I?”

  They both laughed. Awkwardly.

  “Keeping it simple, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  It was silent again for a moment. “Go left here. And then right at the light,” he instructed her.

  She maneuvered through the downtown streets toward his apartment.

  “I signed on with a trainer,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “A guy whose specialty is helping soldiers with amputations get back up to speed.”

  “Like—back in the army?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Like, you’d fight again?”

  “Well, maybe. Or a noncombat role, but active duty.”

  “That’s cool, Jake. I didn’t even know—”

  She broke off, and he saved her. “Yeah, it’s getting more common. Anyway, something I’m exploring. But—another reason for keeping things simple, right?”

  “Right,” she said.

  They were quiet for a bit. Then he asked, “Mira?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Who’s Aaron?”

  She sighed. “Did Sam mention Aaron?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That Aaron was a friend of yours, and his. That he sometimes plays Forbidden Island with him, which I assumed was a board game.”

  “I dated him when I was living in Florida.”

  “Was it serious?”

  She hesitated. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  Something tilted and fell in his chest. Not that he was allowed to give a fuck, because they were—as they’d just established for the thousandth time—keeping things simple. But still. He’d kind of hoped she’d dismiss Aaron with a wave of her hand.

  “We might have gotten married if I’d stayed in Florida. I thought I was in love with him. But it would have been a mistake for me. Sometimes I think I came here partly because my subconscious knew it wasn’t—enough.”

  He found himself feeling sorry for the guy, whoever he was. And, yeah, there was jealousy, too. Because that guy had kissed her and held her and …

  Again and again.

  Whew, that was quite a parade of visuals his brain had mustered up for him. And substituted him in Aaron’s place. And hell, since this was a fantasy, he also had two good legs and the ability to hoist her up against the wall and go to town.

  “Take a right up there. That’s a tough way to break up with someone. Tough on you, I mean. A three-thousand-plus-mile move.”

  “I felt like I couldn’t grow up there. My parents were taking care of me and Sam in a way that made me feel like I’d never graduated from high school. And Aaron was priming himself to take over the role. We would have moved right in with him and become his pets, effectively.”

  “I can’t imagine you as anyone’s pet. You’ve got too many opinions.”

  “But that’s the thing. I didn’t, there. I’d never gotten in the habit of it. My dad and my stepmom were the ones with the opinions, and I just kind of—I was like a kid. And they thought Aaron was great. Aaron was someone my dad had met through woodworking. He introduced us, and he kept on bringing him around until—until I think it was inevitable that we were together.” She hesitated. “The reason I left—I found out my dad was giving Aaron money. For dates and things, and to buy me gifts.”

  “Jesus,” he said.

  “It was the last straw. When you and I were—after you left, I made a break. Figured out how to get myself to art school. But then—things got complicated with Sam, and then I needed my parents’ help. Pride wasn’t that important anymore, and before I knew it, there we were, living with them, and it wasn’t so bad, most days. But it was the last straw, finding out my dad had been orchestrating things. Like I couldn’t even run my own romantic life. I’d been seriously thinking about moving in with Aaron to get away from my father, and it felt like—it felt like there was nowhere to go, there. So I came out here. But I promised myself that I’d let some time pass before I got involved with anyone, to prove I could take care of Sam all on my own. So there you have it. That’s my ‘keep it simple.’ ”

  “Last building on the right,” he said, and she pulled up to the curb.

  He wanted to ask her up to his cruddy little apartment with its rails and other accommodations, but Sam was sleeping in the back and they’d given each other too many good reasons why this couldn’t happen.

  She reached out her hand and touched his knee. The touch resonated, vibrations up his thigh, a tightening in his balls. An ache in the middle of his chest.

  “I had such a good time today,” she said.

  “Me, too.” He couldn’t have lied, couldn’t have held himself back, couldn’t have kept the emotion and truth out of his voice, if she’d paid him. He’d had more fun today than he’d had in years. She was possibly the easiest person to talk to that he’d ever met.

  And God, he wanted her.

  Which meant the only good and right thing he could do was grab his gym bag, swing his door open, thank her again, and get the hell out of there.

  Chapter 13

  Mira’s phone vibrated on the wide conference table. She was in a meeting with the team that was working toward the handbags and belts launch. It felt like it had been going on for days, instead of hours. She knew she was supposed to feel grateful for this opportunity, was supposed to feel like it was the pinnacle of what she’d been working toward, but to be honest, she was having trouble concentrating at all. She reached for the phone, grateful for a diversion.

  It was the babysitter, Cindy.

  She got up and went into the hallway to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Mira?”

  The tone of the babysitter’s voice made Mira’s heart pound. It was whispered, faint, hysterical.

  “What’s wrong?” Adrenaline surged in her blood.

  “I’m so, so, so sorry,” the babysitter said. “I would never call you if it wasn’t serious—nothing’s wrong with Sam. God, I should have said that first.”

  Mira drew her first full breath since she’d heard Cindy’s voice.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cindy said again.

  “Is it the house?” Mira’s heart pounded. She didn’t like the way Cindy sounded, as if she didn’t want to be heard. What if it was a home invasion? What if they were being held at gunpoint?

  Calm down. She would have called the police, not you.

  “It’s not the house,” Cindy said. “It’s my stupid ex-boyfriend. He’s here. And he’s drunk, and I can’t get him to leave. We’re in the upstairs bathroom with the door locked.”

  Oh, God. Sam. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  The silence on the other end of the phone was too long.

  “Cindy?”

  Cindy was crying, small, almost silent sobs. “He’s never hurt me, but the stuff he’s saying—it’s pretty crazy, and he’s got a foul mouth, and—this is all my fault.” Her voice rose to a wail, and Mira felt herself wanting to shush the girl. Shhh, quiet—don’t let him know you’re on the phone with me.

  “I’m calling the police,” Mira said.

  She heard sniffling on the other end. “He’s got a possession record. They’ll—”

  “I’m putting you on hold,” Mira s
aid. She called the police and explained the situation, giving her address and her cell number.

  She kept picturing some huge enraged man rampaging around her house, threatening her son, scaring the crap out of him. Police barging in, a showdown, scaring Sam even worse.

  She’d never felt so helpless in her life.

  She switched back over to Cindy. “I’ll be right there,” she said, but as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. Even if she left now, she was on the east side and it could take her, assuming normal traffic, as much as forty-five minutes to reach them.

  Haley poked her head into the hallway and gave her a meaningful look. We need you in here.

  Her head felt like it was going to explode. Her anxiety about Sam had crowded out everything else, but she knew how much Haley wanted her to impress the other people at this meeting. For Mira’s sake, and for Haley’s own, because—as she’d reminded Mira many times over the last week—she’d gone to bat for her with these people, and this meeting was Mira’s chance to make Haley look brilliant.

  Not that that mattered when Sam’s well-being was at stake, but it sucked.

  “Can you put Sam on the phone?”

  There was a shuffling noise and Sam’s breathing.

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “Hi, Mom. There’s a weird guy here.”

  “Cindy’s gonna take care of you,” Mira told him, wishing she could hug him, wishing she could hold him.

  What she wouldn’t give for Jake right now. For someone familiar and competent to be Sam’s advocate, to focus on Sam’s needs.

  Maybe …

  Probably it was a terrible idea, but it was the best one she had right then. “Sam, put Cindy back on.”

  “Hello?”

  “I’m going to call Sam’s—”

  She’d been about to say Sam’s father, before she thought twice about the advisability of outing Jake to a near-stranger that way. “A friend of mine. I’m going to see if he can get there faster. I bet he can get there in fifteen minutes if he takes a cab.”

  She hung up with Cindy and called him. Her heart sped up while the phone rang. It had been three weeks since their Seattle outing, three weeks during which she hadn’t heard a peep out of him. During which she’d kept putting Sam off, telling him they’d see Jake soon, they’d make a date to go to Bainbridge on the ferry together, she promised, soon, maybe next weekend, maybe next weekend, maybe next weekend …

  Jake had texted her a couple of times with possible activities for him to do with Sam, but she’d made up excuses. Too many excuses—his last few replies had broadcast his irritation. I’d grab Sam fast, he’d texted last time. You wouldn’t even have to talk to me.

  He answered, “ ’lo?”

  “It’s Mira.”

  “Hey.” Not unfriendly, but not brimming with joy, either. She deserved that.

  “Sam’s in a situation, and I think you can get to him faster than I can. I’m on the east side. If you take a cab, I think you can be there in ten or fifteen.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She explained the whole situation to him as quickly and succinctly as she could.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was thick with gratitude and the need to cry. “I’m an hour behind you. Maybe less if I drive fast.”

  “Be careful.”

  She hung up the phone and took a moment to compose herself. I’m on my way.

  What she had longed for all those years.

  A knight in shining armor, galloping off to her rescue. So tempting, so much the fulfillment of her every fantasy.

  He wasn’t her knight, though. He was Sam’s. He hadn’t answered the phone all eager to do her bidding, ready to slay whatever dragon she’d presented. But he would slay dragons for Sam in a heartbeat.

  Haley came into the hallway. “What’s going on? They’ve got a question for you about whether it’ll work for scarves, too.”

  “I just got a call from my babysitter,” Mira said.

  But before she could say anything else, Haley said, “Not the babysitter again.”

  Her heart kicked up, hard. Bad enough that Sam was in danger, bad enough she couldn’t get there as fast as she wanted, but fuck, did this have to be yet another thing that was going to screw her at work? “There’s a situation.”

  “There always is, isn’t there?”

  She should have known Haley wouldn’t be sympathetic.

  “I teed up this meeting for you, Mira. This is your chance to knock ’em dead.”

  And, Haley’s expression clearly added, your chance not to piss me off epically.

  “My son is in trouble, Haley.”

  Her voice was surprisingly strong and steady, and Haley’s glare wavered.

  “I’ve said it before, Mira, but I mean it this time. This is the last time this can happen. Or you’re fired.” Haley turned and headed back into the conference room.

  Mira stood for a moment, as if caught mid-decision, but of course, there was no decision. When it came to Sam, there had never been a choice for her.

  She headed out to her car, dialing Cindy as she went. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter 14

  The twenty minutes between when he answered Mira’s phone call and when the cab pulled up in front of her house were the longest of Jake’s life, and that was saying something, because being a good soldier was all about waiting.

  There was a cop car out front. Jake scouted around the outside of the house, trying to get the lay of the land. He couldn’t see anything obviously amiss, and he couldn’t hear anything from inside.

  He pounded on the front door, which was opened by a uniformed officer, round-faced, middle-aged. “I’m—”

  He’d been about to say, “I’m Sam’s dad,” but that would have been a whole long, complicated thing. Where the officer would ask Sam, “Is this guy your dad?” and Sam would say no, and then there would be suspicion and complication and explaining.

  “Jake Taylor. I take care of Sam sometimes.”

  The police officer gave him a look, and Jake sighed. “You can call Sam’s mom,” he said.

  The cop accepted Jake’s outstretched phone, radioed to the station for the number Mira had given them, and called her. Jake couldn’t hear much of the conversation, only the timbre of Mira’s voice spiking out of the cell phone periodically. He itched all over to get inside to Sam, but he waited patiently. Being a hothead wasn’t going to make this go any faster.

  The cop nodded a few times, hung up the phone, and opened the door wide to admit Jake. “Officer Fredricksen,” he said as Jake went by, and Jake acknowledged the intro with a nod.

  Sam and the girl were in the living room. This time Jake knew to anticipate the impact and braced himself against the door frame, so he kept his balance when Sam hurtled himself into his arms. Sam was crying. “Where’s my mom?” he asked. “Where’s my mom?”

  “She’s on her way,” Jake said.

  “There was a guy—”

  “Shh. I know, bud.” His heart thudded in his chest, rattling his ribs like something in a cage, too big for the space. “He’s gone.”

  “The police came and took him away and I wanted them to leave, too, but they wouldn’t until you got here—”

  “You’re okay now. I’m here.”

  His chest ached. Bad. He wrapped the boy tighter and felt his sobs start to calm to hiccups. It hurt in Jake’s jaw, and ears, too, as if those sobs had gotten into his head.

  “Thank you,” Jake said to the tear-streaked babysitter over Sam’s head. “You can go home now. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  She hesitated.

  He pulled out his wallet and handed her two twenties. “Get some rest.”

  She was sniffling. “Should I come back tomorrow?”

  “No,” Jake said. “No, we’re all set.”

  “Should I ask Mira?”

  “I’ll have her give you a call and you can talk to her about it, okay?”

 
; She looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn’t have it in her. She was too young to be in this kind of situation, too young to be in charge of a seven-year-old all day, and too young to have an ex-boyfriend who was such a jerk. He felt sorry for her. But he also wanted her out of there.

  He was sure Mira would agree, but if she didn’t, he’d do his level best to convince her. He wished he’d fought harder when she’d texted him to say he didn’t need to finish out the week with Sam. He wished he’d talked her into letting him sit until she found someone she was crazy about to take his place. Instead, he’d let the complexity of his own feelings get in the way of his ability to take care of Sam.

  He wouldn’t do it again. This was no crazier than the situation of most divorced parents, and dads did a perfectly good job of sticking around and delivering childcare even when they’d been booted out of the marriage bed. There had to be a lot of bruised egos under those circumstances. A lot of guys who still wanted to be getting laid who weren’t. But that didn’t keep them from doing the dad thing.

  “Tell Mira I’m sorry—”

  “I will.” Jake had tucked his head down next to Sam’s. He heard her open and close the front door, heard her talking to the cop on the stoop, and put his nose against Sam’s warm, wet cheek. Sam clutched him.

  The cop came in. “I’m going to take her home. I’m going to need Sam’s mom’s statement. Have her call the station.”

  “Will do,” Jake said. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.” The cop went out the front door, and Jake heard the sound of his car pulling away.

  He hugged Sam tighter.

  “You’re okay, dude,” he said.

  “It was scary.”

  “You were brave. You were a soldier.”

  “I was?”

  “Yeah. Can I tell you something?”

  Sam nodded, all big wet eyes and occasional hiccupy shudders.

  “Some people think being brave means not being afraid.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No. Being brave means being afraid and still doing what you want to do or have to do.”