Reason Is You (9781101576151)

by Lovelace, Sharla

  “Cool,” I echoed. Wow.

  I took care of three more bait orders, which I did very carefully since the room still had about an inch of standing water. Then I had a bright idea to aim an oscillating fan down that hallway to send the smell the other direction. Jason would think that was smart.

  And that thought halted me as I stooped to plug it in. Why did I care what Jason thought? Maybe because being sprawled on top of him earlier was the closest thing I’d had to sex in years. Maybe I needed to break the other hose.

  Lord.

  Jiminy came by. Lisa Marlow and her giant son came by, which was actually helpful because without Jason, I needed some muscle to move some feed. Fifteen other people came by. Still no Jason.

  After two hours, I started to wonder. Was he so high maintenance that it took him that long to get ready? Surely not. Was he the type to ditch responsibility and think of ten other things to do before returning? He didn’t strike me as irresponsible. He struck me as anal. He was so OCD on rules and procedures, I couldn’t imagine he’d just bail.

  I didn’t have his cell phone number. Well, I guess technically I did somewhere on a random piece of paper from the fender bender. But I wouldn’t be able to find that again if my life depended on it. I dug around the counter a little, looked on the board by the register, for a Post-it or something that might sport his number. Nothing.

  Three o’clock, my quitting time, came and went. Something was definitely not right.

  I picked up the phone to let Riley know I’d be late—when there it was on speed dial.

  JM HOME

  “Well, kiss my ass.”

  My elation was short-lived, however, because the number rang unanswered till it rolled to voice mail.

  “Jason. Leave a message.”

  “Hello? This is Dani. That’s one heck of a shower you took. Are you okay? Are you even hearing this?”

  Crap.

  I went ahead and called Riley and Dad, then dialed Jason at least twenty more times as I fumbled with the afternoon register report and counted the money. Because the later it got, and the more empty ringtones I listened to, the more agitated I got. And the more worried I got. Not sure why I was worried about a man I barely knew, except that it seemed very out of character from what I could tell.

  My mommy paranoia began to build, with images of his pristine pampered car rolled into the river, or wheels up in the big ditch around the corner. I worried he would boil to death in a too-hot shower. Lying there alone. Wet. And naked.

  And that’s when I knew just how pathetic I’d become. And that I was closing early at—I glanced at my watch—4:24.

  I checked the bait vats and sloshy floor, kept the fan on, bagged the report and the money, put it in the safe I’d been told about under threat of death and dismemberment by Marg, and locked the door behind me. Anyone in need of bait or feed or Miss Olivia’s soaps that desperately in the next hour and a half needed a life more than I did.

  Halfway down Jason’s road, my stomach tightened. What did I expect to find? What right did I even have to go check? When the boat and car came into view, however, my head went back to the shower scene. And not the pleasant version.

  “SHIT.”

  I slammed my car into park, ignoring its rock-and-roll groan, and broke into a trot down the narrow dock. There was an old bell on a pull string on a wooden pole. My hands shook as I yanked on it, sending the thing into a frenzy. I already had the next plan in play as I scoped out the boarding ramp leading to his door.

  I abandoned the useless bell—because obviously if he was dead or dying, what the hell good would the stupid bell do—I boarded the ramp, crawled over the rail, and gave one cursory look toward the water as I knocked and grabbed the lever at the same time.

  The door swung open out of my hand as I recoiled and just about swallowed my tongue.

  “Jesus, Dani, what the hell?”

  Jason stood there with a wild and somewhat bewildered expression.

  “Um, exactly!” I sputtered.

  “What?”

  I rubbed at my face and then patted my chest, telling my heart to slow down.

  “Shit, I thought something happened to you. I thought you died in the shower or something.” Then I caught a whiff and wrinkled my nose. “Then again—”

  His face went dark and he turned from the doorway. “I never made it there.”

  Okay. Didn’t know bathing was so stressful. I felt awkward and uninvited there in the doorway, as he fiddled with mail on the table. A quick look around told me that it wasn’t a typical bachelor pad on a boat. He’d made it a home. The small wooden table to the right held a three-wick candle in a pewter bowl. A tray of mail and a brown paper–wrapped package sat to one end. Built-in shelves framed a window, and held a multitude of books and pictures. Beyond that appeared to be a small efficient kitchen, and the walls I could see from where I stood sported a variety of more photographs. Black and white, mostly.

  I blew out a breath and backed up a little. I was bewildered by the whole scenario. He was there all day, changing from Jekyll to Hyde instead of cleaning up. He wouldn’t answer his phone. He didn’t come back to work.

  “Whatever,” I said, flailing a hand as I turned. “Glad you’re alive. See you later.”

  “Hang on,” he said, his back still to me. His tone was irritable, as if he’d really rather I not hang on.

  “It’s good, Jason.” I headed for the rail.

  “Dani.”

  It was just my name, but the tone and reverberation of it made me turn. His expression made me stay there.

  His eyes were red and angry, his jaw hard. He looked as if every nerve ending might pop all at once. But behind the anger was something almost palpable, even from several feet away. Something raw.

  He gestured jerkily toward the door. “You can come in if you want.”

  Did I want? Hell, I had no idea anymore.

  “Um—”

  “Please.”

  I met his eyes and frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head and motioned for me to come in again. Crap. I walked past him slowly, past the festered shrimp funk, and looked around again. There wasn’t much more to see except a hallway that I assumed led to bed and bath. From that angle, there was another wall of built-ins with doors. The whole thing was a genius use of space, giving a sense of more than was really there.

  Jason shut the door and rubbed at his face and hair absently, shoving a lock of hair up. I thought he looked disheveled back in the bait room, but he was definitely on a downslide.

  “What’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

  He reflexively looked down at his cell clipped to his jeans.

  “No, your home phone. I couldn’t find your cell.”

  “I wasn’t here,” he said. “I just got here about ten minutes before you did.”

  I opened my mouth to ask the next obvious question, but he held out a hand.

  “Can you give me a minute?” He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off before I could blink. “I need to go get this off me, I can’t stand it anymore.”

  I just nodded. My tongue tied itself in knots at the sight of him shirtless. He was muscled and hot and at that moment I didn’t even care if he’d rolled in pig manure first.

  “Just—sit down.” He motioned to a comfortable chair in front of a TV. “I’ll be back in a second, and I’ll explain it all.”

  “Okay.”

  Not that I had many options. I could leave, but then I’d miss the encore. And I cared much less about where he’d been all day than I did about seeing him come out shirtless and clean and smelling good. Maybe even in a towel.

  “Jesus, Dani, get a grip,” I mumbled as I sank into the chair.

  Water came on down the hall, and my eyes fell on one of the photographs across the room. A black-and-white one of a little boy gazing out a window. I got up for a closer look. Same dark hair, intense eyes staring out at the world. To the right
of that photo was another one of the same boy, grinning at the camera with construction-paper bunny ears.

  As I moved around the room, to the wall photos, the framed ones on the shelves, all the pictures contained some version of Jason’s son. Alone, with friends, with grandparents, with Jason. Nothing with his mother, I noticed.

  I stepped around the table and my hip nudged the package. When I moved it back, I noticed it was addressed in black Sharpie from Jason to Connor Miller in Kenington. That was about an hour west of Restin. An equally black stamp RETURN TO SENDER was plastered across it.

  “Oh no,” I said softly as I ran my fingers over the offending words. I didn’t know the details, but I was pretty sure this was the root of it.

  I picked up a framed photograph of the two of them in baseball uniforms, Jason’s arm across his son’s shoulders. Jason was evidently the coach, and they posed all serious and manly.

  “That’s the last picture we took together.”

  I whirled around and jumped so hard I was lucky not to drop it.

  “Shit, you scared me.” I returned the frame to the shelf, careful to fit it back to the faint shape in the dust. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snoop.”

  He was shirtless again, God help me, in a pair of jeans, barefoot, and his hair still damp.

  “Actually, when people say that, they just didn’t mean to get caught.”

  I held up my hands. “Swear to God, I didn’t steal anything. Your photos just sucked me in.” I motioned around the room. “I love pictures.”

  He nodded and walked to the fridge. “All I have is water and orange juice. Want something?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He snatched a bottle of water for himself and took a long swig, then looked at me.

  “Time got away from me today, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I just have an overactive mind, I guess.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You were actually worried about me?”

  I felt my neck heat up. “I was concerned. You did get walloped with a pissed-off hose today, after all.”

  A small smile softened his face. “Well, thank you for the concern, then. How’s the bait room?”

  “Still a little soggy, but better.”

  Jason nodded absently. His face went dark again as he ambled toward the table. He touched the name written on the package and landed heavily in the nearest chair.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Leave him with his thoughts? Sit down with him? Offer a body massage? I pulled out a chair and sat.

  “I didn’t believe it when his present showed up back here today,” he said finally, not looking up. “Thought there had to be an explanation.”

  I waited.

  “I was there day before yesterday. He was distant but at least past hating me. I told him something special was on the way.” He ran a hand across the package. “I couldn’t wait for him to get it. Then it showed up here.”

  “Did you call?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Told him happy birthday and that for some reason his gift came back.”

  “Didn’t he understand that?”

  “He hung up.” Jason’s jaw tightened. “Shocked the hell out of me. I called over and over and finally got his mother. She said she’d sent it back because he didn’t want it.”

  I closed my eyes. That wouldn’t be good.

  “So, I just got in the car and went there. Just like I was—not thinking. He was at a swimming party with a few kids and of course I embarrassed him.”

  “He’ll get over that.”

  “I won’t,” he said flatly. “He used to be so proud to be with me. He was my little man. We were tight. And now—he’s so angry. He was embarrassed of me.”

  “It’s the age,” I attempted.

  “No. It’s his mother.” He looked back down at his hands. “When we first split a year ago, he was okay. Sad, but okay. They moved to Texas to be closer to her family, so I followed to be closer to him.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Something happened after that. He won’t take my calls. And she won’t talk to me about it. I don’t know what the deal is; they’re both avoiding me.”

  I smelled a new man in the picture.

  “Do you think he’s just mad about the divorce?” I asked. “I mean, sometimes kids act out and then blame the one who left.”

  “I didn’t leave. She did.”

  I bit my lip. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “He might not realize that, though. I tried to make it easy on everyone. I never made a fuss over it. I didn’t fight her. Maybe I should have. Maybe he thinks I didn’t care.”

  “Jason, I’m sure he knows—”

  “Really? How are you sure?”

  I was taken aback. “What?”

  He shook his head and rose from his chair. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve never told anyone my private business.”

  I frowned. “I didn’t ask you to tell me anything. I was just listening.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I bothered you with it.”

  Clearly, I was dismissed. “Bother me? I’m getting whiplash right now. That’s bothering me.”

  He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not good company right now. It’s been a long day.”

  I glared up at him and got up. “Really now?” I dug my keys from my pocket and turned for the door. “Sorry for your day.”

  I was out and down the ramp and across the dock before he could say another word. I kicked myself for caring. For feeling bad for him. For letting my guard down.

  I threw my car into gear and drove the minute around the cove to my dad’s house, blind with annoyance. Bojangles met me at the door again, but he didn’t get the love he wanted.

  “Men are pigs, Bo. No offense.” He didn’t look offended.

  No one was home yet, and that was a good thing. I needed to unwind. Look at that album, maybe take a nap. But it wasn’t in the living room or on the shelves. It wasn’t in my room or Riley’s.

  “What the hell?”

  Irritated but too tired to spend more time on the chase, I flopped onto the living room couch. I only remember one or two thoughts before I succumbed to the black hole. And both of them involved Jason.

  I awoke to the smell of cornbread, but I couldn’t pull myself out. Lack of sleep had a firm grip on me and it tugged me back down. It took Riley’s laughter in the distance to finally pull me out of my coma. I sat up and got my bearings, which threw me when the windows were all dark.

  I wandered into the kitchen to see my dad ladling chicken gumbo into bowls for Riley and Grady. Oh yeah. Memory dawned. Hanging out after work. God, I felt like I’d slept for a year.

  “Hey.”

  All three heads turned my way.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” my dad said, nodding my direction. “My gosh, what did you do?”

  I rubbed at my face and winced at the bruise. “Oh yeah. Little equipment malfunction at work.”

  He put down his ladle to come tip my chin up like I was eight and peer at my war wound. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, just finally gave in to sleep deprivation, I guess. God, I feel drugged.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Shane,” Grady said as he waved a spoon at me. “Riley invited me to eat.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “Cool.” I remembered the album. “Hey, Ri, what did you do with that album today?”

  “Put it in your room,” she said around a sneaked bite of cornbread.

  “I didn’t see it.”

  Riley shrugged, and I was too foggy to care. I grabbed a bowl and decided I needed sustenance. I went out on the front porch with it and a glass of sweet tea and settled into the swing. I breathed in some of the best night air we’d had in a long time. Dry and humidity free. A full moon lit up the porch. It was beautiful.

  “Yes, it is.”

  I turned to my left to see Alex against the rail.

  “You read minds, now?”

  “Just a guess.” He pushed off and came to join me on the swing ca
refully. “It’s a great night.”

  I took a big bite of butter-soaked cornbread. “To follow up a sucky day.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Men are assholes.”

  Alex started to laugh. “Cut to the point, there.”

  “It is what it is.”

  He looked down wistfully. “Supper looks good.”

  “Mm-hmm. Dad’s gumbo is the best.”

  “I miss food.”

  I looked at him. “Can you smell it?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I remember smelling it. Tastes. Touch.” He met my eyes.

  I swallowed, and it had nothing to do with the food. We sat in comfortable silence as I ate, and I couldn’t help but wish for that in a real way.

  “Did you used to do this sort of thing with your wife?”

  Alex looked at me like I’d sprouted wings. We never talked about his life much. Or at all, really. It always turned back to me.

  “What?”

  “This.” I held my hands out. “Just being together sharing space.”

  He smiled and looked off where the darkness soaked up the trees, lost in his memories, I guessed.

  “Yeah, I guess we did. We had a back patio we used to sit on. We’d put bird food out and watch the birds and squirrels fight it out.”

  I was stunned. A piece of Alex’s life. I was almost afraid to acknowledge it for fear he’d realize the blunder and stop. He caught me staring and did a double take.

  “What?”

  I looked away and laughed lightly. “Nothing. You just—never talk about that.”

  “About birds?”

  I gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

  He let out a sigh and looked away again. “That was so long ago, Dani.” He got up slowly. “Walk with me.”

  Chapter 9

  WE strolled down the steps, through the yard, up the gravel road. The stars were pale with such a bright moon, but the sky was perfect.

  “What was her name?” I finally asked.

  Alex put his hands in his pockets, eyes focused downward as if he were studying the dirt pass under our feet.

  “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  “Because in all these years, I’ve hardly learned anything about you.”

  “You’ve never asked.”