“What are you talking about? I take care of myself.” Carly pressed one hip against the bed, bracing herself so she could lean in and straighten her mother’s pillow.
“No, tesoro mio. No you don’t. Not here.” Her mother reached up to place a frail palm over Carly’s heart, and Carly jumped at both the unexpected contact and at the term of endearment her father had usually reserved just for her.
“That’s crazy, Ma.” But even as she uttered the words, Carly knew they weren’t exactly true. After all, if she’d been more careful with her heart in the first place, then Travis wouldn’t have had any room to stomp all over her. And as if once-bitten wasn’t bad enough, now she was risking it all over again with Jackson. While picturing Jackson cheating or lying to her was damn near laughable, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t end up hurting her in some other way. Plus, right up until she’d caught Travis with his chef’s whites in a ball on the floor at Gracie’s, she’d have found the idea of him cheating and lying just as far-fetched.
God, what the hell was she doing?
Her mother cleared her throat, bringing Carly’s thoughts back to the hospital room. “It’s not so crazy. Look at you.”
Unease strummed up the length of Carly’s spine, and she froze. “I don’t want to fight about this.” God, this was going to go bad quickly if they didn’t change the subject. “Maybe you should get a little rest, huh?” She smoothed a hand over the thin blanket covering her even thinner mother, but her mother persisted.
“I’m not arguing with you. I’m trying to tell you. You want to get a divorce? So be it. I can’t change your mind, and I’m starting to think it might be the right thing, anyway. But you need to look at the bigger picture. You need to look at you.”
Carly opened her mouth, but no sound came out for a long minute. Finally, she managed a strangled, “You think I should get a divorce?”
Her mother made a face as if she’d bitten a lemon. “Oh, Travis is a sweet-talker, but he’s no saint. He put the moves on Rose De Luca’s daughter right in front of God and everybody at Our Lady of Mercy last week. Like Rose and I don’t have eyes in our heads,” she snorted, waving her hand in a tangle of IV tubes.
“My point is, even if you divorce Travis, you can’t keep hiding from your life. These things that trouble you, they’re gonna find you no matter where you live. If you want them to go away, you’ve got to deal with them.” Her mother looked at her with absolute certainty, and Carly felt her gut plummet toward her knees. She sat on the edge of the bed next to her mother’s tiny body.
“I’m not hiding on purpose, and I never meant to cut you out of my life. It’s just that the restaurant business is so tight-knit—everyone knows everyone else, and they all believed Travis over me. I thought that if I could get out of the loop while it all shook out, I’d be able to come back and start fresh. But now . . .”
She trailed off, unsure how to end her sentence. Her mother was right. Simply being out of sight wasn’t going to fix anything, not with Travis or anyone else. If she wanted to prove herself, she was going to have to fight for it, to earn it.
To reclaim it.
“Are you happy, living out there in the mountains?” Her mother’s question was strangely devoid of judgment, and Carly’s answer tumbled out before it had even fully formed in her mind.
“Yes.” Her cheeks flamed at how readily the affirmation popped out of her, but she realized with a start that it was true. “I mean, I wasn’t at first, but I love La Dolce Vita. And having my own kitchen is a dream come true, even if it isn’t in a big-name city.” Carly hedged, dancing around the six-foot-four reason for the rest of her happiness in Pine Mountain. “But I still miss it here. And you’re right. I can’t hide from my problems with Travis. Plus, I belong here, with you and Dom and Frankie and Vin.”
“Hmph. You belong where you belong. You don’t have to be right in front of Travis to deal with him, Carlotta, and that will come with time. I’m talking about taking care of you, eh? No matter where you are.”
“Now who’s the pot and kettle? Come on, Mama. This is a two-way street.” Carly scooped up her mother’s hand. “You have to promise you’ll let us take care of you, too. And I need to be around for that.”
Her mother muttered a curse in Italian, but a smile lurked beneath it. “I suppose I could give it a try. After all, I want to stick around to see you happy.”
“I’m happy now, remember?” Carly smoothed a strand of salt and pepper hair back from her mother’s face, and something odd thumped against her ribs.
“I know I’m old fashioned, and you can make your stubborn face as much as you please, but I want to see you truly happy. With a family. And your job,” she added quickly, cutting off Carly’s brewing argument about how they’d crossed into the twenty-first century. “I just want everything for you, the way your father and I had it. It’s why I wanted you to give your marriage a chance.” Her mother’s voice, normally so full of stalwart certainty, wavered over the words.
The hitch made hot tears prickle beneath Carly’s tired eyelids. She’d already risked everything once, only to end up with a failed marriage and a fragile heart that couldn’t take another beating.
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for that,” she admitted, but her mother gave her hand a squeeze that said otherwise.
“One day, when you have children, this will make more sense to you. But for now, you’ll have to trust me, eh? Just take care of you, cucciola. The rest will come.”
Her mother’s reply was summarily cut off by a familiar, teasing voice, and Carly gave her face a surreptitious wipe with the back of her hand as Dominic poked his head past the privacy curtain.
“Knock, knock. One turkey sandwich on whole wheat, lettuce, tomato, mustard, coming right up.” He held up a deli bag with a flourish, and Carly’s heart pattered in her chest as Jackson followed her brother into the room holding two more bags.
“Dio mio, Dominic! It sounds bland enough to put me to sleep. Who eats like that?” Her mother scowled, softening her expression slightly as she caught sight of Jackson.
“All of us, actually. If you have to eat well, then the least the rest of us can do is follow suit.” Dominic handed the sandwich over before starting to unwrap another one just like it for himself, and Carly’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“That’s a great idea. When did you get so sweet, big brother?”
“I didn’t. It was Jackson’s idea.” Dominic’s lips twitched upward, and her mother’s eyes sparked with interest.
Carly cleared her throat for just a second too long. “Mama, this is Jackson Carter, a friend of mine from Pine Mountain.” The word friend sounded strange in Carly’s ears when she spoke it, like an ill-fitting shoe, but then Jackson was moving forward to greet her mother, saying how good it was to see her feeling better, and the moment was gone.
They shared a quick, pleasant lunch together full of talk about Dominic’s kids and Carly’s garden project, and although her mother tired out more quickly than Carly would’ve liked—God, she still looked so fragile—the conversation had been the least stressful in recent memory. They switched off with Frankie and Vince, stopping off at the nurse’s station for a quick update, and for the first time since Carly had picked up the house phone at La Dolce Vita, she allowed herself a sigh of pure, unadulterated relief. She glanced at Jackson, who was laughing that easygoing, good-to-your-toes laugh at something Dominic had said, and her brain zeroed in on her mother’s words.
“. . . I just want everything for you, the way your father and I had it . . .”
Suddenly, Carly’s relief felt like the calm before a hurricane.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive? I really don’t mind.” Jackson eyed Carly warily, although he was starting to learn not to push his luck with her. She was all hands on deck in the feisty department, that was for sure.
“Jackson, we slept for ten hours last night. Seriously, it’s fine.” The corners of her mouth hinted upward, and his gut floode
d with relief at her happiness, as cautious as it was.
“Well, yeah, but you cooked for four hours before we fell asleep, and that was after spending the day getting your mother situated back at home,” Jackson said, unable to resist teasing her a little.
“Okay, so we did have a busy day. But now that my brothers and I have a plan in place to make sure my mother takes her medicine and gets to her doctor’s appointments like she’s supposed to, I feel much better. Plus, her freezer is so stocked with meals, I doubt she’ll have to cook for the rest of the year.”
“That’s a conservative estimate.” Cramming all that food into the freezer had been nothing short of miraculous.
Carly nodded. “And I’ll be back soon enough to replenish her supply. I’ve already worked out a deal with Adrian that’ll give me enough time off every couple of months to squeeze in a visit. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.”
The unspoken for now hung in the air, and something turned over in Jackson’s chest like a stone being lifted from wet earth. He canted his head at her, watching the sun filter through the car to catch the subtle reddish undertone in her dark hair, and the ache in his chest spread out in uneven ripples.
“It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” His words came out strangely like an accusation, swirling over the weird unease that had been percolating through him ever since she’d broken down in her mother’s kitchen.
Feed her.
“I hope so,” Carly replied with a slow test of the water, her forehead pulling into a V of concern. “Are you okay?”
Jackson shook off both the uncharacteristic tension and the return of his weird inner voice. They’d been through a lot in the last couple of days. It was enough to really mess with a guy.
“Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m still kind of beat.” He laced his fingers through hers and lifted them for a quick kiss, and the move seemed to reassure her.
“Maybe you should get some sleep. We’ve got another couple hours to go before we hit Pine Mountain.”
“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. But wake me up if you get tired and want me to drive.”
He closed his eyes, willing himself to let go of the strange sensation that something wasn’t quite right. After all, spending three days in the city under stressful conditions could knock even the most laid-back townie off his game. Surely, his inner voice had missed all the taste testing he and Carly had done last night. He’d gone to bed stuffed to the gills, which for him was really saying something, and he’d seen Carly eat plenty. When they got back, he could always make her a PB and J again. Maybe that would do the trick.
But as he drifted off, Jackson had the niggling feeling that all the sandwiches in the world weren’t going to send his inner voice packing this time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Four days and forty-seven work hours later, Jackson felt like the moving embodiment of Night of the Living Dead. Finishing that lakefront kitchen remodel had thrown him every curveball imaginable, with everything from the custom built-ins in the pantry to the wildly expensive marble floor tiles giving him fits. Mercifully, the home owner had loved every hard-wrought detail, and Jackson had been able to sign off on yet another job well done. Even if he was totally cooked over it.
Somewhere beneath the mound of scattered paperwork and discarded sweatshirts on the front seat of his truck, Jackson’s cell phone shrilly demanded attention. He fumbled the hands free ear piece into place, tapping it with a tired hand.
“Hello?”
“Wow. You sound like shit.” Shane’s voice carried an equal mixture of joking laughter and been-there sympathy. “I take it you finished that big kitchen job, since you’re actually answering your phone.”
“Signed, sealed, delivered. Thank God,” Jackson added. “What’re you up to?” With the breakneck week he’d just endured plus his unexpected trip to New York, it had been ages since he’d seen his buddy.
“You know the Friday night drill. Bellamy’s on dinner shift, so I’m kicking back until she gets home later tonight.”
Despite his exhaustion, Jackson let out a small chuckle. “You, my friend, are a kept man.”
Shane laughed. “Pot. Kettle. Asshole.”
Jackson gripped the steering wheel, his pulse spurting through him. “I, uh, don’t think I’ve ever heard that version,” he stammered. The stupid tight feeling in his chest—the one he’d been fighting off all week—seeped through his bones like it meant to take up permanent residence.
Shane paused. “I’m just saying I’m not the only one at loose ends on a Friday night. That’s all.” His words were so laid back that Jackson’s unease dropped a notch. Jesus, was he tired enough to blow things out of proportion or what?
“Listen, Bellamy’s been baking her face off ever since Carly hinted they’re going to replace that slacker of a pastry chef. Just between me and you, she really wants to move up in the ranks. Which would be cool, except now I’ve got three dozen apricot turnovers sitting here, mocking me. You want to come hang out for a bit, take some of them off my hands?” Shane sounded completely normal, and Jackson managed an exhale. This jumpy stuff seriously had to go.
“Sure, but only for a bit. Carly did the final business pitch for the garden project today, but with that hellish kitchen remodel, I didn’t get to talk to her about how it went yet. I want to get a little shuteye before she gets home.” Jackson eased his truck through Pine Mountain’s singular stop-lighted intersection, heading toward Shane’s cabin. “I should be there in five.”
He brushed a hand over his buzz cut, popping the earpiece out on the way. Yes, the emotional exhaustion of last weekend had ganged up with this crazy job to really knock it out of him, but something else stirred deep within him that he couldn’t seem to ignore.
He wanted Carly to stay in Pine Mountain. Indefinitely. Which was bullshit, really, because the whole reason he’d let himself get involved with her in the first place was because eventually, she was going to go back to the city. She’d never made any bones about the fact that her stint in Pine Mountain was temporary, that her career, her family—hell, her whole life—was in New York. It was a perfect win-win. They could be together for the time being, and when it was time to part ways, they just would, same as all Jackson’s other pseudo-relationships.
Only nothing about Carly felt forced or fake, and it was starting to worry the shit out of him when it wasn’t thrilling him right down to his boots.
“Jeez, I need to get some sleep,” Jackson muttered as his tires crunched through the gravel path leading to Shane’s cabin. A couple of apricot turnovers and about twelve hours of uninterrupted zzz’s, and Jackson would be good to go.
Five minutes later, he knew he wasn’t wrong about the turnovers, at least.
“Damn, Shane. How do you live with this woman and not weigh five hundred pounds? These pastries are intense.” Jackson licked his thumb in appreciation for the gooey glaze Bellamy had drizzled over the golden layers of puffed dough, eagerly reaching for a second helping with his other hand.
“You don’t even want to know how often I’ve run the loop behind this cabin in an effort to work off her latest culinary brainstorm. This pastry chef thing is killing me, I mean it,” Shane said.
“Lightweight.” Jackson took another bite, the tangy apricot bursting over his tongue. “Just please do me a favor and don’t ever piss her off, okay? I’d like to be up to my elbows in these things for a good long time.”
“Yeeeeeeah.” Shane sat up in his chair, kicking a glance in Jackson’s direction that set off warning bells. “About that.” He stopped long enough to let the seriousness of his look sink in before he said, “Bellamy and I are getting married.”
Jackson froze, a gob of apricot filling stuck to the roof of his mouth. “You’re what?” he said, trying unsuccessfully to swallow.
Shane pressed a smile between his lips so that only the edges snuck out, but it was enough. He looked happy as hell. “We’re getting married. I asked her yesterday.”
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Shock rippled through Jackson with seismic force. “Wow. That’s . . . wow. Congratulations.” The words felt tight and wooden in his mouth, and he forced a smile onto his face. If any two people defied the odds, it was Bellamy and Shane.
So why did he feel like he’d just swallowed a time bomb?
“Thanks. I figured you might have mixed feelings about it, so I wanted you to hear it from me rather than Carly. I’m sure Bellamy’s already told her.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have mixed feelings about it. I’m happy for you guys.” Wonderful. Man, he sucked as a friend. “Really.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Shane said, no trace of argument in his voice. “I just know that serious relationships are . . . an issue for you sometimes. That’s all.”
Jackson’s shoulders roped over with invisible tension. “Just because it’s not going to happen for me doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you. I think Bellamy’s great, man.” He sat back against the hard wood of the kitchen chair, and although he’d meant every word with genuine sincerity, his appetite still disappeared like smoke in the wind.
“Carly’s pretty great, too.” Shane propped an elbow on the table, eyes flicking over Jackson’s for only a second before he tore off a corner of pastry and popped it into his mouth.
“What’s going on there is different.” Hell if he felt like having this conversation, now or ever.
His buddy looked unconvinced. “You sure about that?”
The question rattled all the way down Jackson’s spine, and he stiffened even further. “I’m not willing to find out, Shane.” God damn it, he hated what his father had done and how it had fucked with him as a result. But what was in his blood couldn’t be changed, and trying was pointless.
If he got any more serious about Carly, it would end up hurting them both.
“Look, I’m not trying to piss you off, Jax. All I’m saying is, you look happy with Carly, and she looks happy with you. Why not give it a chance? And don’t give me this casual-dating bullshit. I’ve seen the way you look at her, dude. We both know you’re beyond that.” Shane crossed his wiry arms over the front of his T-shirt, his words brooking zero argument.
Gimme Some Sugar Page 26
