When We Touch

by Tia Louise

  My brow lowers. I guess she thinks she’s intimidating me. “I’m sure he is.”

  “Why, Momma?” Ember’s voice is strong, but I hear her waver. “How can you do this? You want Brandon to take Coco away from us?”

  Turning on her heel, she looks straight at Ember. “I would rather see her with him than here in this toxic environment.”

  Ember clutches her head and does a little growl. “What toxic environment? Love? A real home? Are you afraid Jackson’s going to take your place?”

  “If only it were that innocent.” Marjorie’s voice crackles, and she turns to face me as she addresses her daughter. “Did you ask him why he came here? Did he tell you the truth or did he lie like I said he would?”

  Rage filters through my blood. My fists clench—I’ve never wanted to hit a woman before…

  “He came back for me…” another waver in Ember’s voice, “He came back to find me.”

  “He didn’t even know you were here.” Marjorie’s brow lowers, and my heart beats faster. “He came here because he was running away. Tell her the truth, Jack Lockwood.”

  My eyes flicker to Ember, and she’s looking at me with round eyes. She’s still mine, I can see it in her posture, but her mother has successfully thrown her off balance.

  “You’re right, I didn’t know Ember was still here,” I say, controlling my tone, restating the truth I believe in my heart. “The moment I saw her, I knew I’d come back for her.”

  “Liar.” Marjorie’s voice is even. “He came back because he’s running from sexual assault charges. His law firm put him on professional leave for forcing a young woman named Tiffany Rogers, the receptionist at his office, to perform despicable acts against her will. She filed a police report—”

  “That is not true!” Emberly screams at the woman. “How dare you?”

  “How did you…” I can only whisper.

  Phillip is very good at his job…

  “It is absolutely true,” Marjorie continues, watching me.

  “What the hell?” Tabby shouts at me.

  “For that reason,” Marjorie continues. “I will allow Ember to come home with me tonight and be with Coco. I don’t agree with her choices, but I know she is not a threat to my granddaughter.”

  Tabby’s arms are tight around her friend, and Ember looks up at me through damp lashes and a deeply furrowed brow.

  “Jackson?” The fear and confusion in her voice shoots ice through my stomach. My eyes meet hers, and they’re flooded with tears. “Is what she’s saying true?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Oh, God,” she gasps, holding out a hand and shaking her head. All signs she’s still mine are gone. She’s backing up on her bed, defensively holding onto her friend. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re coming home with me now.” Her mother holds out a hand to her daughter. “Jack Lockwood is a sex offender. I will not have my daughter or my granddaughter anywhere near him.”

  “Jackson?” Chad’s deep voice cuts through the panic paralyzing my mind. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s a smokescreen. That’s not why they’re after me—it’s about a case. They’re doing this because I found evidence—”

  “Come, Ember.” Her mother stands at the door, holding it open.

  None of my words are making it through to my girl. I can tell by her body language she’s completely shut down. She’s shaking and crying. Tabby helps her to stand, still keeping her arms around her shoulders. I take a step forward, and I’m cut off at the knees by her icy green glare.

  “Step back, Lockwood,” Tabby snaps. “You’ve done enough.”

  Fuck this. Fuck all of this! I was searching for Tiffany to fix it. I dropped everything to race back here when I got Ember’s call.

  My fists clench and unclench. I want to shout my innocence at all of them. I want to snatch Marjorie Warren by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattle. I want to take Ember in my arms and carry her with me to the cottage and convince her this is a sinister lie…

  But even in the fury and absolute violence blanketing my thoughts, I heard the most important thing—the only thing that matters right now.

  Marjorie is letting Ember be with Coco tonight.

  Nothing I could do would make that happen. Her detective found Brice’s lie, and she’s using it to reinforce her own controlling agenda, whether she knows it’s a lie or not.

  Ember hesitates at the door and looks at me, her broken heart in her eyes.

  Marjorie’s voice snaps from the stairwell. “Make your choice, Emberly Rose. Come with me now or stay here with this monster.”

  I’m breathing hard, fighting every instinct in me to stop her, but I don’t.

  Coco needs her mother.

  Emberly needs Coco.

  “Go.” My voice is ragged, and my heart dies when two crystal tears hit her cheeks.

  A soft noise like a sob follows her down, and I collapse against the wall, holding my cramping stomach. Emberly is devastated, we’re apart, Marjorie is wielding Coco like a sword to cut us in two…

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  “You’d better tell me what’s going on.” Chad stands over me like a brick wall.

  “How much time do you have?”

  Twenty-Two

  Ember

  My muscles are weak following that surge of adrenaline. I feel the cold recession of all strength from my limbs.

  Dixie is abandoned at the apartment, and I’m in my mother’s town car, riding the very short distance to the house where I grew up. The lonely prison I stayed in for three years after Jackson left—until I was old enough to move into Aunt Agnes’s abandoned store.

  “You rushed straight into his arms. No questions. No regard for your daughter’s safety…” My mother is relentless in her berating.

  Thankfully, the car stops in the driveway, and I get out before she’s even finished speaking. Numb, I go slowly through the side entrance not even acknowledging the mountain of a storm trooper standing in the foyer, confusion lining his face.

  Yes, I’m the same one you threw out of here four hours ago, asshole…

  I continue straight up the familiar staircase down the creaky wooden floors of the hall to my daughter’s room. The room that once was mine. The room where I would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling dreaming of the boy who would sit outside in his car beckoning me with the noise of an engine.

  Coco is curled in a little ball in the center of the queen-sized bed. She’s breathing just loud enough for me to hear, and I don’t even take off my dress. I slip between the sheets and slide across the cool mattress to curl my body around hers.

  She makes a noise and moves toward me. I pull her closer against the twisting ache in my chest. Her sweet scent, her chubby hands, her soft hair, all these things soothe the pain and confusion. The words replay in my mind…

  Is what she’s saying true?

  Yes.

  Go…

  My eyes squeeze shut against the tears. It doesn’t make any sense—none of this makes sense. I’m hurt and exhausted. I’ve been from panic to anger to relief to devastation in the last eight hours, and I’m pretty sure I can’t take another thing. I sure as hell know I’m not up for another round with my mother.

  Holding my phone, I stare at the face trying to decide if I even want to try. Of course, I want to try.

  I don’t understand.

  It doesn’t take long for his reply.

  I’m working on it. Stay with Coco.

  My arm drops and I thread my fingers through her silky hair.

  “Mommy?” Her soft voice is full of sleep, and I’m not convinced she’s entirely awake.

  “I’m here, baby.”

  “What about Atlantia?”

  My heart aches at how perfect our life was for one brief moment. One magical night I got a glimpse of what my life could be. If only…

  “Don’t worry, baby. Jackson is watching over Atlantia. Everything is going to be okay
. Sleep now.”

  Her arm goes around my waist, and I kiss her head. She’s little, but she’s a powerful weapon.

  * * *

  “I can’t raise a child right now, Emberly.” Brandon Lancaster stands on my mother’s front porch in a light grey Armani suit with sky blue pinstripes.

  His blue eyes are stern, and his blond hair is short—shaved around his head and just a little spikey where it fights against the product forcing it to behave.

  For a second, I’m relieved. Five years later, and he’s just as handsome as he ever was. I feel less of a total slut for hooking up with him after only five hours of conversation.

  The only problem is he’s the same self-centered asshole.

  “I don’t want you to raise her!” I pace the painted wood porch in my bare feet.

  I hadn’t expected him to arrive so early this morning. I’d been standing in the kitchen in cutoffs and a white tee, my dark hair swept up in a ponytail when the knocking started.

  Thankfully, my mother is driving Coco to preschool—I’m not allowed to take my own daughter anywhere. I’m a flight risk.

  “Well, what the fuck is going on?” The light beard on his chin doesn’t hide the lines around his mouth, making him appear even more impatient. “Your mother said you’re dating a sex offender? I’m not prepared to raise her, I’m sure as hell not going to let my daughter get hurt.”

  Nice to know he has some shred of paternal feeling.

  Anger rises in my chest. “Is that really what you think of me, Brandon? You think I’d let someone hurt my daughter?”

  His voice rises to match mine. “I don’t know! You might recall we haven’t spent a lot of time together outside a bar.”

  He’s got me there. The last time we spoke I’d given him a courtesy call to tell him I was pregnant. He’d held his breath waiting for me to say what I wanted to do about it… (His question.)

  When I’d said I was keeping her, he exhaled heavily and asked if I expected him to marry me. I almost laughed in his face. (Or ear.)

  I did not expect him to marry me.

  “So who is this guy? What’s his story?”

  “He’s…”

  He’s my first love.

  My last love.

  My only love.

  “He’s a guy I’ve grew up with. He used to live here.”

  “Is what your mother said true? Is he a rapist?”

  “No!” I hate this. “I don’t know what happened…”

  Brandon exhales a groan, shoving his hand along the side of his neck. Lowering it, he inspects the chunky stainless-steel watch on his wrist. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to be back in the city by noon.”

  “I just need a little more time.”

  “The judge says you’ve got two more days.” He walks past me to the steps, to the grey Land Rover in the driveway. Just before he gets inside, he pauses, blue eyes running up and down my body. “Don’t make me do this, Ember.”

  A knot twists in my throat, and I can’t speak. He gets inside, closes the door with a tight thump, and backs out, disappearing down the street as my mother pulls up in her large vehicle.

  “Was that Brandon?” She gets out and hurries over to where I stand at the edge of the porch. “Why didn’t he wait for me?”

  “He doesn’t want to talk to you, Momma. He doesn’t want to deal with this.” I’m so angry with her, I have to clench my fists to avoid throwing things. “I can’t believe you’d give her to him, send her away, just to keep Jackson and me apart.”

  Her back stiffens, and her face turns pious. “Sometimes God asks us to make sacrifices. He asked Abraham to kill Isaac—”

  “We’re not living in the Bible!” I shout, turning and storming away from her, stopping at the porch swing. “What do you expect to happen, Momma?”

  “Brandon Lancaster has no intention of raising that child,” she says, and I hate her superior tone. “I’ll talk to him, and we’ll work it out so that Coco lives here with me. Permanently.”

  It’s now my turn to throw her words back in her face. “That will never happen.”

  I’m off the steps walking fast into town. Pain twists in my chest, and with every step, I feel the fear rising. I believe Jackson when he says it’s a smokescreen, although I’m not sure what that means.

  I wish my faith were stronger.

  It’s so hard.

  We haven’t had enough time…

  André steps out the door as I pass the poboy shop. “Emberly!”

  I stop and look up. A white apron is tied around his waist, and his dark face is lined with a frown. “I heard about what happened.”

  “Of course,” I say quietly. “I’m sure Betty’s told everyone by now.”

  What a perfect way for her to clear her grabber-son’s name.

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “Heard it from Jackson—just before he left town.”

  “Oh…” I look down the lane toward the cottage.

  He’s gone again.

  My stomach sinks.

  “I haven’t known Jackson very long. Not nearly as long as you have.” He looks at me, dark eyes serious. “He’s a little reckless, playful. Still, it’s hard for me to believe he’d intentionally hurt someone who wasn’t asking for it.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to ease the tension. “It’s hard for me to believe.”

  “Then don’t.” His gaze moves from me up the lane, toward the old neighborhood where my mother’s house is located. “People see what they’re looking for. We don’t have the whole story. The truth might be real simple.”

  Looking back the way I came, I don’t answer. I only nod.

  He starts to go back inside the store, but he pauses. “I’ve been talking to Tabby. She’s got some good ideas for marketing—you and me working together, cross-promoting…”

  I squint up at him. “I finally started paying her.”

  That makes him chuckle. “I like her ideas. I think if we put our heads together we could bring more tourists up this way. Daisy has the antique shop. Count me in.”

  “Okay,” I say, managing a small smile.

  The ugliness of the situation hangs heavy over me. Even with Jackson gone, the court order locks me into staying at my mother’s house. Still, I have the slightest glimmer of hope. The faintest flicker of a dream.

  Twenty-Three

  Jack

  I’m on the phone with Ian the entire drive back to the city. In the background, I hear the noise of voices and men working.

  “I’m almost at the end,” he says. “Your name pops up in almost every document.”

  My heart sinks. “I was second chair on the case. I’m probably in everything.”

  Which means there’s no way of proving I didn’t know about the hidden evidence, the prescription drugs or the violations.

  “I did, however, find one early interview. It’s with the driver of the truck—you weren’t there. It looks like it was right after the accident occurred. A detective I don’t know, two counties over conducted it. Brice was present. I’ll send it to you.”

  My grip tightens on the wheel. I can’t wait. “I’ll be driving another hour. Tell me what it says.”

  “The driver keeps saying he’s sorry. The detective made some notes that he seemed dazed and jittery, possibly under the influence.”

  “Brice would have characterized it as shock.” It’s a go-to defense, especially in the case of traffic fatalities.

  The sound of pages turning echoes in my ear. “Driver says he can’t lose this job. He’s too old to start over… He makes few references to breaks, meals… if you establish a timeline, it’s what you’re looking for.”

  “The only problem is proving I didn’t know about it.”

  Ian does a little grunt. “Can’t help you there.”

  My jaw tightens, and I turn the matter over in my mind. Over and over, it’s all I’ve been doing for the past two days.

  “Any luck finding Tiffany Rogers for me?”

>   “You asked me to search two hours ago,” Ian laughs. “I haven’t had a chance to start.”

  “I’m sorry.” My voice is tight. “Things have become more urgent, that’s all.”

  “Finding people isn’t so hard. It’s possible I can have something for you by the time you’re back at your place.”

  “I can’t thank you enough. Keep me posted.”

  We sign off, and I focus on the beige concrete in front of me. I’m impatient at how long it’s taking to get to my condo. The Beast nearly overheated when I flew back to Oceanside after Ember’s call. I’ll have to switch to my Audi and give this old guy a rest. It’s strange how quickly I’ve adjusted to a different pace, the country versus the city.

  Ember is on my mind. I can still see the heartbreak in her eyes, the confusion. Déjà vu tightens my shoulders. I’m having flashbacks of what happened to us before, only this time Coco is the weapon.

  I was a kid when we were broken apart the first time. I’m not a child anymore, and this time the outcome will be different. Determination tightens my stomach.

  I’ve saved us once. I’ll do it again.

  * * *

  True to his word, Ian texts me an address just as I’m pulling The Beast into my parking garage.

  Last known whereabouts of Tiffany Rogers. And by last, I mean as of this morning. She’s working as a temp at an advertising agency called Radical Bureau. Odd.

  I text right back,

  But memorable.

  I know exactly where she is—less than an hour away. I head up to my condo to shower, grab some food and the keys to the Audi, and I’m back on the road.

  My teeth grind as I get on the expressway. Every red light feels like it lasts a half hour. Every block draws out like I’m in the Matrix. At last I’m pulling into a parking garage for a multi-office complex. I take a ticket and make my way to a parking space, thinking about the possibility of her being out, of her coming back and seeing me before I see her and panicking.

  For a few moments I waver… perhaps I should wander around and come back closer to five. Maybe with a witness just in case…