“Obviously I do, and tonight I was proved right. You want someone adorable and … posh. I bet she has an Instagram page full of herself posing in her outfit of the day just for the fun of it.”
He shook his head again. “What does ‘posh’ even mean?”
“Nicely dressed. On trend. And accessorized with a stick up the ass.”
“Ah. I see. And should it offend me that you assumed my type was a woman with a stick up her ass?”
Jen shrugged. “Probably. But that’s your cross to bear.”
“It isn’t actually, because you’re wrong. And Brooke is a very nice woman.”
Jen scoffed. “Whatever. She’s judgmental. I could see it in her face. You don’t need that in your life.”
“And you’re not? You just accused her of having a stick up her ass and being a cheerleader.”
Jen glared at him. “Yeah, and she was! Is it considered judgmental if you’re right? I call that perceptive.”
“Christ, you’re something else,” he said on an awkward laugh.
What did he mean by that? And why the hell could she not just stick to being nice this evening? He always brought out the worst in her. Called to every deep insecurity she’d ever had. Why was she surprised that he judged her so harshly?
No one spoke for a minute, but Jen hated awkward silences, so she thought of something else to say. For conversation’s sake, of course. “So, then what is your type?”
TJ’s eyes widened, his head jerking over to her then back to the road. “I don’t know.”
“Nope, try again. You were adamant a minute ago that I did not know your type, so then you must have an idea.”
TJ let out a deep sigh and leaned his right elbow on the center console. It was such a masculine position, his right hand resting leisurely on the bottom rung of the steering wheel, left arm stiff and gripping the top. It made her insides tingle.
“Okay, I guess my type is … attractive, obviously. I’m only human.” He glanced at her nervously, as if asking for her approval.
“Fair,” Jen rolled her hand with a flourish, encouraging him to go on.
“I guess I want someone outgoing. Creative. Strong and … not afraid to be herself or speak her mind. Funny. Caring. Hard-working. Compassionate.”
Intrigued, Jen shifted in her seat to stare at him. “Hmm.”
“Hmmmm, what?” he asked, turning on his blinker. They were almost there.
“I’m just surprised.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
“It’s always possible. But I doubt it.”
“You’re pretty cocky, Jen Mackenzie,” he said as he pulled into a parking spot.
“Am I? Noticed ‘cocky’ wasn’t on your type list.”
He stared at her. “Maybe I just forgot to mention it.”
She stared back at him, a little stunned. There were those sunrays in his eyes again. She glanced away and used her good hand to unclick her seatbelt. By the time she had the door handle, TJ was there, pulling it open, lending a hand to pull her up out of the low-sitting seat.
As they walked into the ER, she felt his hand settle low on her back this time, and her legs nearly give out. TJ never touched her. Ever. So why was he tonight? Because she was in a helpless position, being injured? That still didn’t explain him grabbing her hand earlier before the party.
Once she was checked in, they sat down in the waiting room together. Thankfully there weren’t that many people there, so she hoped that meant it wouldn’t take too long.
“I hate hospitals,” Jen said quietly.
“Yeah, I hear ya,” TJ replied. Their arms were brushing and his left leg was bouncing up and down, a bad habit of his. “You’ve probably been in them too often lately. With your mom and everything.”
“Yes.” Jen blew out a breath.
“How’s she doing? I’d hoped to see her this evening.”
“Yeah, I would have liked her to come. She needs to get out of the house. I’m tired of her being so depressed.”
“I’m sure the past year has taken a lot out of her. She’s lucky to have you.”
“I guess. I’m not always the sweetest daughter, but I’ve tried.”
He gave her a half smile. “Maybe you two are too alike.”
“God, I hope not.” But she had a feeling he may be onto something whether she liked it or not. Jen breathed in deep, feeling incredibly overwhelmed. Her mother’s health, job, and financial stress, and now she had stitches to look forward to. These days life just felt like one sucker punch after another.
“Things have just been really shitty lately.” She heard herself whispering.
TJ turned to her, his leg halting. “How come? If this new receptionist gig is too much—”
“No, I like that job even if it is temporary,” she said. He looked relieved. “The biggest problem right now is my mom. They found another mass.” Jen squeezed her sore hand tighter around the wad of bloody paper towels.
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you say anything?” TJ sat up straight and leaned into her.
Jen shrugged, a feeling of helplessness coming over her.
“Damn, Jen. I’m sorry. I feel like you guys can’t catch a break. How is she taking the news?”
“Not well. I know it’s why she’s been more depressed than usual. I mean, it’s been rough since she was diagnosed, but she’d done okay with the surgery and the treatment. Remained pretty strong and seemed optimistic. It’s different now. I can just … feel that she’s giving up.”
“I’m sure she’ll get back there. Your mom seems tough. She’s probably just processing.”
Jen shrugged and twisted at the paper towel. “Maybe.”
“What’s the next treatment?”
“Well, they gave her a couple of options. I really wanted her to do another round of chemo. It had worked the first time. But she didn’t want to. Instead she chose to do a clinical trial.”
“Okay. Well, good for her. Maybe it will work.”
Jen shifted in her seat, looking at him. How could he not take her side? “And maybe she’ll get loaded full of placebos. I mean, seriously, TJ. Chemo has helped people thousands of times. This trial is not a sure thing.”
“None of it’s a sure thing, Jen. Thousands and thousands of people have also died after chemo. Maybe it really didn’t work considering there’s a new mass. This trial might be just the thing she needs. There are new advances in cancer treatment every year.”
She flopped back in her seat and wiped away a shocking tear, overcome by the well of emotion that sprang up in her heart. She was always so good at pushing the pain deep, masking it with the hustle of daily life and a consistent diet of denial. Why were her walls crumbling now—and in front of this man? “You’re supposed to just agree with me to make me feel better,” she whispered, hating that he could probably hear the tears in her voice.
“I want to make you feel better by being here beside you, Jen,” he said.
Oh God. She sucked in a noisy—very telling—breath. Damn him for saying something so sweet and perfect. Jen turned away from him, willing her eyes to dry. But instead, TJ reached over and wrapped his arm around her back, locking in on her shoulder and pulling her into his chest.
“Jen. Come here.”
He tugged and she turned, and just like that, she gave in. Oh no.
Jen had never fallen from any substantial height, but she now knew the feeling, her body tumbling through air, solid ground nowhere in sight, her limbs loose and tingly, and her lungs in her throat. When the sensation passed, leaving her with an odd feeling of safety in his arms, the dam broke so hard and fast there was absolutely no time to brace herself. The fact that he was so warm and solid, and his shirt smelled so good and TJ-ish, only had the tears coming faster. This time when she inhaled, the tiniest sob escaped, completely humiliating her in his presence. And yet, it only made her want to cry more. Hold on tighter. Pretend she was in a bubble of safety, ev
en though she’d never really understood what safety felt like.
This had to be it.
Thankfully, her soul instinctively recognized it and didn’t ask her mind for permission before settling in and sinking into his body. Her injured hand was gently held up by the chair rest between them that was biting into her ribs, but she couldn’t find it in her to care as her right hand settled on his upper abdomen. She clinched his beautiful checked shirt in her fist and he responded by leaning his head down to rest against hers as he whispered murmurs and hushes into her hair.
They sat like that for a few minutes, her silently crying and in complete shock at the unexpected turn of events. She was going to chock this up to the trauma of the past hour. Past year, maybe past life. Truth was, Jen had never learned to rely on anyone. Or let go, because letting go was dangerous. But damn this right here felt amazing.
TJ’s body shifted beneath her, but she didn’t budge. Wasn’t even certain how long they’d been sitting like that. When she cracked her eyelids open she saw he had set a box of tissues on his knee, well within her reach. Jen snatched one and used it to wipe her nose. “Thank you,” she said.
Without lifting her body or her head, she glanced around them to find a toddler with a nose full of boogers turned backward in his seat and staring at her from the next row over. The sight was so unexpected and jarring, she shot up straight and grabbed another tissue to wipe at her eye.
“God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess.” She wiped her other eye, noticing the mascara and eyeliner coming away on the tissue. Great.
“Look at me,” TJ said.
Jen hesitated, but then did as he asked. His lips quirked with slight amusement, but he pulled another tissue from the box and while he held her chin with one hand, the other wiped at the corner of one eye. Then the other.
“There. Now you’re good as new.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said, dabbing at her face once more. As gentle as he’d been, there was not a chance in hell her eye makeup had budged. She appreciated the gesture just the same.
“Why are you being so good to me tonight?” she asked, while nervous energy radiated through her body.
He angled his head back a bit, obviously considering her question. “I’ve always been good to you, Jen. You just don’t always notice.”
Her heart skipped a bit at his words. That was certainly not true. Once upon a time he’d hurt her deeply. He just didn’t know it.
A nurse called her name from across the room.
“Are you coming with me?” She suddenly felt panicked. “I’ve never had stitches before.”
“You’ll be fine.” He immediately stood and held out his hand for her. “But I won’t leave your side.” She took his hand, and they proceeded together.
An hour ago, she might have given him a smart-ass reply to that, but now, she was just grateful he was here.
Five
Jen knocked on her mother’s door the next morning. She’d tossed and turned the night before after TJ dropped her off. He’d walked her to her door, said good night, but then quickly retreated. He was probably weirded out by how needy she’d turned out to be the first time he’d chosen to be nice. Nobody was as shocked as she was.
She knocked again, a little harder this time. “Mom? You awake?”
Cursing under her breath, Jen turned to run back to her place to grab her key when the door opened behind her. Making her way back to the apartment, Jen found her mother looking as if she’d just awoken from a coma.
“Room service,” Jen said, holding out a strawberry protein smoothie.
Her mother reached out and took the cup. “Thanks.”
She left the door open and walked to the sofa. Rolling her eyes, Jen followed, shutting the door behind her. Taking in the room, she noticed it was still a little messy, just as it had been yesterday afternoon. Not a good sign, considering her mother had company.
“How was last night?”
Diane took a drink of her smoothie and then looked up at Jen with a blank expression. “What do you mean?”
Jen lifted her arms at her sides. “You and Terri. What did she bring for dinner?”
“What happened to your finger?” Her mother nodded at Jen’s wrapped pinky.
“I cut it at work. No big deal. I asked you a question.” Jen sat down in the recliner. It was ugly as sin, but gosh it was comfortable.
Diane took another swallow of smoothie. “What kind of milk did you use in here?”
“Almond. Just like every other day,” Jen said, leaving out that she’d used half water since she’d run out of the milk. Still better than nothing, and apparently didn’t stop her mother from gulping it down. When had she eaten last?
“I don’t like almond milk,” Diane said, wrinkling her nose down at the glass.
“Funny, you always finish it. Why are you just now saying something?” Jen felt like screaming. Yes, her mother was battling cancer, and discovering a new normal after giving up her two vices, but the attitude was beginning to be too much.
“I guess I didn’t want to complain.” Diane took a final big swallow and set her empty cup down on the side table before leaning back on the couch.
“Sure, that sounds just like you,” Jen said sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll try cashew milk next time.” But not until she got paid.
Diane fluttered her hand in the air. “Just stick with the almond. Whatever.”
Holding in a lot of choice words, Jen blew out a breath. “So,” she prodded once again. “Tell me about last night.”
Her mother shrugged. “I wasn’t really up to it so I canceled.”
“Why would you do that?” Jen felt deflated at the news. How long was she going to go on helping a woman who didn’t want to help herself? “Terri is one of your best friends and she’s done a lot for you lately. It would have made you feel better to spend some time with her.”
Diane’s head jerked in Jen’s direction, her eyes narrowing. “You honestly think hanging out with my healthy best friend makes me feel better?”
Jen pursed her lips. “Yes, I do. You’ve known Terri since you were in high school. She knows everything that’s going on so you don’t have to pretend with her. It would have done you some good.”
Diane shook her head and looked away. She was still in her robe and her hair looked clean but ratty. Jen figured she’d never even bothered dressing after her shower yesterday.
“What can I do to help you feel better?” Jen asked. It had taken a lot to get the words out of her mouth, but she was tired of this moping.
Two sad eyes turned her direction. “Bring me a pack of cigarettes.”
Jen glared at her. “You don’t mean that.”
“It’s tempting. I’ll tell you that much.” Diane leaned back on the cushion. “I mean why am I worrying about my lungs if I’m going to die anyway?”
“Don’t say that, Mom.”
Diane jerked up. “Why not? Tell me why I didn’t beat this. Why did it come back?”
Jen sagged in her seat. “I don’t know.”
Diane’s eyelids fell shut and her head dropped back to the cushion once again. “I’d been fighting my ass off. I was optimistic, eating right, exercising. Gave up all the good things in life for fuck’s sake. I was doing it all. Women beat breast cancer all the time. Why not me?”
Jen stared at her mother. The woman who had raised her. Taken care of her—in her own messed up way. Some years were better than others. Diane Mackenzie hadn’t always realized her boyfriends were dickheads quite soon enough, but she eventually did. The rent often didn’t get paid and they’d get evicted, but Jen never starved. There were kids who had it way worse off than she did.
“I haven’t given up, Mom, and it makes me angry that you obviously have.”
“Well, you’ll never be as angry as I am.”
“You’re right.” Jen stood up, suddenly furious. “So why don’t you just keep on being mad and bitchy. If you’re gonna die, you’re g
onna die. No need for us to be kind to each other in the process. Why start now, right?”
Her mother looked shocked at Jen’s outburst. “That’s not fair. You’re not the one dying.”
“But I’m the one losing a mother. You’re not even dead and you’re gone. Is it too much to ask that I’d like to have just a tiny bit of decent time with you? It’s not fair that you’re going through this, but honestly, Mom … you’re being selfish acting this way.”
Jen watched the woman stare off into the distance for a long moment before she finally just leaned back into the chair. It was no use. They’d never been super close. Never understood each other. If Jen had dreamed up any illusions that staring down death might cause her mother to have any epiphanies, she was in for disappointment. She knew this. But it still stung.
“I’m dying, Jennifer,” her mother said quietly. “They told me this time it was more aggressive; the tumor was bigger. And my body is still trying to recover from last time. I know I’m not handling it well, but don’t think for one moment that I’m not thinking of you. Don’t you think I hate that you’ll be alone?”
Jen froze. This she hadn’t heard before, and suddenly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. So her mother was worried about her, knew her days might be numbered, and yet she still couldn’t bring herself to show her only child any love or appreciation.
Taking a deep breath, Jen blew it out slowly and then spoke in a steady voice. “Why don’t you share more with me what you’re thinking? Your fears? And why are you worried about me being alone?” It was news to Jen that her mother even stopped to think about Jen’s well-being. Her entire life she’d basically taken care of herself. Diane had never been the typical mom who did things like parties, teacher conferences, and clothes shopping.
Diane gave her a long, irritated look. “You’re thirty years old. Single. Live in a shitty apartment.”
“Exactly. Thirty years old is an odd time to start worrying about whether your daughter knows how to take care of herself. Besides, your apartment’s as shitty as mine!”
Diane lifted her hands out to the sides. Her voice took on Jen’s least favorite tone: critical sarcasm. “Oh I know, I’ve failed you as a mother. Please remind me again and again. I didn’t pay for singing lessons. I couldn’t come to all your performances. I’m the reason you have man issues. I know all of that, Jennifer. You’ve told me before.”
Maybe This Time--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel Page 6
