Again, he scanned his inbox, this time looking at each individual email address, rather than simply searching for a specific one. Ah. Seth had written him.
After his impromptu visit with Seth’s friend, Rebecca, Jace had informed his brother that the woman was fine and that Seth shouldn’t worry. All true, as far as that went. But Jace hadn’t mentioned that Rebecca was also pregnant. Well, Jace thought she was pregnant, though he couldn’t say for sure. But he had to wonder if Seth was the unknowing father or if there was another man in her life that Seth didn’t know about.
Regardless, Jace refused to drop that news when his brother couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His brother’s focus needed to be solid in order to do his job, in order to stay safe. And it wasn’t as if Jace knew anything for certain. He didn’t. Of course, Jace would tell Seth every last detail once he was stateside again. Until then, he’d keep his mouth shut and try to find ways to unobtrusively check in on Rebecca’s well-being.
Clicking open Seth’s email, Jace read: “Thanks, bro. Good to know she’s fine.” He penned a quick reply and was three seconds away from exiting the system when another email dropped into his in-box. A reply from his contact.
Bloody hell.
His investigator friend had been compiling his report on David Prentiss when he received Jace’s request. Since he’d already completed the work, he sent the file on. The sick feeling in Jace’s stomach returned. He didn’t open the attachment, but the email spelled out what he would find when he did: David’s home address in Gresham—literally minutes away—phone number and a few other basic facts gleaned from public records.
Okay, so luck wasn’t with him today.
Jace logged out of his email and turned off the laptop. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he tried to work out what words he’d use to explain this to Melanie. He thought back to the day she rushed into his office, her eyes blazing and ears smoking, after learning about the deal he’d made with Kurt. She’d absolutely been steamed. But after a while, she calmed down and listened. The same would happen with this. Probably.
No longer hungry, Jace went to wake his sleeping beauty and give her news that he hoped, when all was said and done, she’d be—if not happy—relieved to have. He hadn’t yet made it to the stairs when a knock on the front door altered his direction. Another knock and a long, plaintive peal of the doorbell sounded off before he crossed the few feet to the door.
Opening it, he found Melanie’s mother on the other side. Red-rimmed eyes framed in black blobs of runny mascara clued him in on her state of mind. Concerned by what he saw, he ushered her into the house and led her to Melanie’s pale-yellow-and-green-striped couch.
Sitting next to her, he took her hand in his. “What happened?” he asked.
“Is m-my daughter h-here?” Loretta’s smudged eyelashes fluttered in a series of heavy blinks. “She was r-right, you know. She usually is.”
“Right about what?” he asked gently, though he was fairly sure of where this was headed.
“Wade.” She blinked again, and two huge teardrops rolled down her cosmetic-smeared cheeks. “M-maybe everything else, too. She doesn’t believe in love, you see. Doesn’t th-think it’s possible to trust your heart to a m-man without being hurt.”
“Mom? What’s wrong?” Melanie’s anxious voice whisked into the room as she nearly tripped head over heels in her rush to get down the stairs.
The sound of her daughter’s voice forced a long, emotional shudder through Loretta’s body. And then, another wrenching bout of sobs.
“Oh, God, Mom,” Melanie said when she got close enough to get a good look at Loretta. Taking the seat on the other side of her, Melanie carefully tucked her mother’s hair behind her ear. As if she was the mother and Loretta the child. “I’m here. We can get through anything together, you know that. So tell me, what happened?”
In one of those seconds of pure knowledge people were sometimes gifted with, Jace realized the scene in front of him was one that had played out many, many times between mother and daughter. Probably throughout most of Melanie’s life.
“It’s over. Already,” Loretta whispered. She pulled her left hand free from Jace’s grasp and rubbed her bare ring finger. “He…he said I could keep the ring, b-but who wants an engagement ring if there isn’t going to be a wedding?”
“You gave him back the ring?” Melanie asked.
“I th-threw it at him and told him to get out.” Loretta heaved a breath. “Wh-what am I going to do?”
Melanie gently stroked her mother’s hair. “First, you’re going to go upstairs and wash your face. While you’re doing that, I’ll make us some tea. I have chamomile, and that always helps relax you. Then we’ll sit right here and you can tell me the whole story.”
Loretta nodded and pulled herself to her feet. “Yes. Tea. Tea w-would be good.”
Melanie waited for her mother to disappear up the flight of stairs before focusing on Jace. “I’m sorry, Jace, but I need to be alone with my mother. This… Getting her to some semblance of functional again will take most of the day.” Then, with a shake of her caramel-colored hair, she said, “Or longer. This is the worst I’ve seen her in years.”
“Of course, Mel. I understand this is a private moment.” He started to reach for her but didn’t. There was a glazed-over fogginess in her eyes that bothered him. “How about if I bring us some dinner later? Let me take care of you after you take care of your mother.”
“I don’t need taking care of,” she said, her voice slightly bewildered. “I’m not hurting. My mother is.”
“Aw, darlin’, we all need taking care of every now and then.” Giving in, he reached for her and pulled her close. She smelled soft and feminine and flowery. “What is so wrong with a little extra attention after you’ve had a particularly tough day?”
Her body relaxed and loosened in his embrace. Tightening his hold, he rested his chin in her hair. When she nuzzled his neck with her cheek, he knew he’d won.
“Will you bring Mexican food and really cold beer? Icy cold?” she mumbled. “Oh, and the richest, darkest, most decadent chocolate cake you can find.” She sighed, already seemingly exhausted. “I’m always starving at the end of Day One.”
“You got it.” God. This had happened often enough that they’d established a pattern? That also bothered him. Couldn’t Loretta see what this was doing to Melanie?
Well, he was here now. Here to stay, if he had anything to say about it.
Melanie paced a steady path along her living room floor while waiting for Jace to show. Tight darts of pain ping-ponged between her temples, causing her stomach to churn. This breakup was bad. So bad, she’d insisted that Loretta spend the night at her place. Mom had agreed and was now resting upstairs.
Loretta’s string of failed relationships had added to and fined-tuned the coping steps Melanie used to get her through her grief. Chamomile tea was the first step. While sipping and sobbing, the details of whatever had happened would emerge.
After which, Melanie would commiserate by saying everything that Mom needed to hear: “Yes, he acted like a jerk,” “No, this is not your fault,” “Yes, you absolutely can do better,” “I know you thought he might be the one, Mom,” and finally, “I’m so sorry.”
Anger tended to come next, followed by another round of heart-wrenching sobs. Sometimes, more tea was involved. Other times, one—but not more than two—stiff drinks proved more helpful. Then, with every level of emotion purged from Loretta’s body, Melanie would sit behind her on the sofa and brush her hair in long, rhythmic strokes.
This particular step began when Melanie was nine. When she was a teenager, she’d accidentally added another component by comparing an ex from Loretta’s past with the most current ex. Obviously, Mom was long over the past boyfriend by then, so the comparison helped her see that
she’d get over this heartbreak, as well. Sometimes, a good round of ex-boyfriend bashing would occur. This lent itself to laughter, which was always a plus.
The final steps were a nourishing meal, a hot bubble bath that Melanie would draw and either a movie or TV show if it wasn’t too late or Mom wasn’t sleepy enough for bed. Without fail, this process had always given her mother whatever she needed to get through the next day, and the next, until the crisis passed and a new relationship began.
This time was different.
This time, Loretta was inconsolable. Instead of giving Melanie the details of the breakup, she’d glossed over them, saying only that “things didn’t work out, they never work out.” Then, for the first hour or so, she’d repeatedly said that she didn’t know what to do, that she’d thought she was finally making the right choice, but that she’d failed again.
Every one of Melanie’s coping techniques fell flat. Nothing she said or did seemed to have any effect. And, after that initial rush of emotion, Loretta had become quiet and listless, almost weary. She had an aura of defeat about her that Melanie had only seen once before; the morning after her father’s departure.
Perhaps because Loretta’s feelings for Wade somehow mirrored how she’d felt about David Prentiss. Or perhaps the cause was simpler than that. Out of all of her mother’s relationships, only two men had ever proposed to her: David and Wade. That commonality alone might be enough to trigger similar reactions.
Really, though, Melanie’s main concern was helping her mother get through this. But after her epic failure that day, she didn’t have a clue as to how to proceed. That scared her.
And God knew she loved her mother. Heck, in every other aspect of her life, Loretta was strong, capable, intelligent and loving. In every other aspect, she’d been an incredible mother—loving and supportive, pushing when necessary and giving her daughter space when called for.
But this…inability of hers to stop making the same mistakes over and over and over had worn Melanie out. This time, she wasn’t even sure she could help. And the long hours spent trying to do so had rammed in a truth that Melanie had been avoiding.
Yes, she loved her mother, but she refused to become her mother.
Maybe Loretta hadn’t learned from her mistakes, but Melanie had. She’d just…forgotten those lessons for a while. She remembered now. Would never let herself forget again. Would never allow herself to need a process that included hot tea and a hair brush in order to feel better.
A car door slammed outside, breaking into her thoughts. Jace.
Swallowing heavily, she met him at the door. He gave her a brief kiss on her forehead before carrying his armful of bags to the kitchen. The scent of spicy Mexican food wafted behind him, increasing the nausea already roiling in her stomach.
In the kitchen, he was unloading plastic containers onto the counter. Over his shoulder, he said, “I got a little of everything because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“Jace,” she said, her voice quiet. Tense.
“I stopped by my folks. When Mom heard you were itching for a chocolate cake, she baked one herself. Said if you like it, she’ll give you the recipe.”
“Jace,” she said again. “We need—”
He turned around and faced her, his brown eyes warm and concerned. “I know, baby. You’ve had a really rough day, and I want to talk to you about it. I want to know how your mom is doing and what’s going on with that. But right now, I think we should relax. Eat. Maybe find a horror movie to chill to. Give yourself a mental break before digging in again.”
Oh, God. All of that sounded so, so good. Almost perfect. But… “No, Jace. We…we need to talk. I need to do this before…before—” Before her heart wouldn’t let her. Before her stupid emotions overruled her brain. “Before my mother wakes up. She’s here, staying the night.”
The very air around them stilled as he watched her, as he listened. He shook his head slowly, his gaze intent, his jaw hard. “No, Mel. You’re tired. You’ve had a long day. This is not the time to be making that decision.” His eyes blinked shut for a millisecond, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “Any decisions.”
Now the air grew heavy enough that it hurt to breathe. “I can’t do this,” she said, her voice broken. “It isn’t in me. I thought for a little while that maybe it was, but—”
“It is, Mel. Please trust me on this. I see what we can be. I…know what we can be.” He held his hands out toward her, beckoning her. “If you’ll just step toward me and let me show you, you’ll see it, too. I know you will.”
The want to do so pressed against her like an invisible force compelling her to move forward, but she shook her head and took a physical step away from the impossible. Away from Jace. “I can’t,” she repeated, her mother’s devastation embedded in her memory. “I won’t. I don’t have it in me.”
“You do,” he said stubbornly.
“Don’t you get it?” Melanie worked to find words that he would understand. More to the point, that he would accept. So he would leave. Because, dammit, if he stuck around much longer looking at her with those eyes, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to end this. And she needed to end this. That was the only way to be certain she’d never follow in her mother’s footsteps. “I can’t take the chance. The risk is too great.”
“What risk?” Frustration edged his voice.
“What risk? Have you not been paying attention?” Okay, now she was getting mad. That was okay. Anger was better than despair, and she’d take it any day of the week. “Two weeks ago, my mother’s life was wonderful. She was desperately in love and excited about her future with Wade. She believed that she’d found a man different from all the others. A man who wouldn’t hurt her. But guess what, Jace? She. Was. Wrong.”
Comprehension dawned. Pain—pain that she caused—whisked through his features. “Right. Got it. With no reason at all, you’ve decided that I’m no better than Wade or, for that matter, any of the other men in your mother’s life. That’s…nice, Mel. What the hell have I done to deserve that opinion?”
“I just can’t take the chance,” she said, hating herself for hurting him. “Besides, let’s be honest here, Jace. I was never more than a game to you. The one woman who didn’t fawn all over you or beg you for attention. In your eyes, I was a challenge. Nothing more.”
A mask slammed into place, shielding his emotions. “Do you really believe that?”
She swallowed, ready to push out the lie. Knowing that would be enough to send him on his way, but…she couldn’t. Instead, she went with the truth, which really was damning enough. “I did, yes. Now…now I’m not so sure. But I should be sure, don’t you think? I should be able to look at you and not have a question or a doubt about your motivations.”
“That would be nice,” he admitted, his tone almost resigned. “But I understand that could take some time. I don’t mind waiting. I don’t mind proving to you one day—one step—at a time that you can trust me.”
Damn him for throwing her words back in her face. Tired now and craving solitude, she settled her gaze on his. “I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to put my faith in anyone but myself. That is the only way I can be one-hundred-percent certain that I won’t be let down.” She said the words calmly, firmly. Her voice didn’t waver or quake. But her heart shuddered with the loss of what could have been. If she was stronger, braver.
If it was in her to take a chance. “I’m sorry, Jace. I really am. But this truly is an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ decision. I need you to accept it.”
A long minute, maybe two passed. “I don’t know that I can.”
“You have to.”
He leaned against the counter, as if needing the support, and pushed his thumbs into his jean pockets. “I love you, Melanie. Have from the beginning, I think,”
he said, almost as if he were talking to himself and not to her, as if he were trying to work out this dilemma she’d presented him with. “So no, I don’t think I can accept this. But it’s obvious you need some space, so I’ll give you that.”
He loved her?
Shoving himself off the counter, he walked over to her. Using his fingers, he tipped her chin up, so she had no choice but to stare into his eyes. Eyes that beseeched her to change her mind, to give them a chance, to risk it all for…for happiness.
But she couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even begin to process his declaration.
“I love you,” he said again, his voice rich and deep and filled with layer upon layer of emotion. “And I’ll wait, Mel. So you do what you need to do. I won’t push, but I definitely do not accept your decision. Deal with it.”
“Y-you have to,” she stammered. “You are not king.”
“Nope.” Leaning over, he dropped a kiss on her nose. “But you aren’t, either.” He retreated, giving her space so she could breathe. “Do me a favor and eat the food I brought. Drink a beer and relax. Take care of yourself until you’re ready…to let me take care of you.”
Then he was gone, and damn if he didn’t take her heart with him.
Chapter Eleven
Melanie sipped the coffee that Olivia had served at the beginning of the interview and tried to pay attention to what was being said. Unfortunately, with Jace sitting next to her on Grady and Olivia’s couch, that proved impossible. He looked so good, so real, and he was so very close to her. It was all she could do not to scoot over and lay her head on his shoulder, grasp his hand with hers and say, “Okay, you win. Please don’t break my heart.”
Of course, she couldn’t to do that. Because he would break her heart. Eventually. She didn’t see how a man like Jace would be content to stay with one woman for very long. Or, if a woman existed that could capture his heart forever, she wouldn’t be an ordinary woman.
A Match Made by Cupid (Harlequin Special Edition) Page 16
