Timid (Lark Cove Book 2)

by Devney Perry

  “I’m sorry.” Jackson’s hands came to my shoulders, holding me captive. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up and acted like a dick.”

  “Yes, you did.” I sighed. “But I get it. You had a lot on your mind.”

  “I’m still sorry.” Jackson let me go and looked me up and down. When his gaze landed on my bare feet, he frowned. “Shit. You’re probably freezing. Come on.”

  I wasn’t cold, not in Jackson’s arms, but I didn’t argue as he grabbed one of my hands to drag me inside. Just as he was closing the door behind us, Mom and Dad came back to the dining room, each with two coffee cups.

  Dad handed one over to Jackson as Mom gave me mine, then Dad motioned to the table. “Sit down. We need to have a discussion.”

  Jackson gave me a sideways look, hesitantly pulling out a chair. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled like the bar and a bottle of tequila. As he sat, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out a kink.

  The only explanation for him being in the same clothes and walking home this morning was that he’d slept at the bar.

  I might not be mad at him anymore, but I didn’t feel bad for him either. He could have slept in my warm, soft bed but he’d chosen not to. If his solution was to get drunk instead of talking through his problems, then he deserved this hangover.

  Though I’d still massage his neck later.

  “So we might as well not beat around the bush,” Mom said. “Willa told us about what happened with your mother yesterday.”

  Jackson shot me a look. “Did she?”

  Whoopsie. I probably should have gotten permission before spilling his life story to my parents. I’d only told them because I’d needed them to understand the entire story before asking their advice. Still, it wasn’t my story to share.

  Before I could apologize to Jackson, Dad spoke up. “We don’t keep secrets in this family.”

  “No offense, Nate,” Jackson shot back, “but we’re not family.”

  Dad’s face hardened. “Do you have feelings for my daughter?”

  “Yes,” Jackson replied immediately.

  “Then you’re a part of this family, and when one of us is having a hard time, we talk it through.”

  Jackson slumped, knowing that Dad was talking about me. His shoulders hunched forward as the guilt from last night weighed them down.

  “I think you need to confront your mother,” Mom declared. “Get it out and over with. Find out why she’s here, then you can dictate what will happen next. Right now, she has the power because she surprised you. You need to take it back.”

  Mom’s direct approach might not always work when giving me advice, but it seemed right up Jackson’s alley. She was a younger version of Hazel and she was going to go all mama bear for him.

  After Hazel had her five minutes with Jackson’s mother, my mom would be next in line.

  “I don’t know if I should see her or not,” Jackson confessed. “Nothing good can come from her being here.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Dad shrugged. “But I wouldn’t see her because she has something to say. I’d see her because you do. This could be your chance to get some closure. You deserve that much.”

  “Maybe,” Jackson mumbled. “I’ll think on it.”

  “Do you think she left town?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Thea texted me this morning and said she saw her car at the motel.”

  “She probably wants something,” Mom muttered. “Any idea what it could be?”

  “Money?” Jackson guessed. “Maybe she thinks I have some.”

  “Is there any chance she wants to make amends?” Dad asked.

  Jackson stared at his coffee mug. It took him a few moments, but he murmured, “No.”

  My heart broke for him, but he was right. If that woman had wanted to apologize for dumping her son in the middle of New York City to fend for himself, that would have been the first thing out of her mouth yesterday.

  “I hate her,” I whispered.

  The entire table’s eyes were on me, probably because I hadn’t ever said those words in my life about another person. Mom and Dad had taught me not to hate. Dislike, sure, but not hate.

  I did though. I hated Jackson’s mother and I didn’t even know her name.

  “What’s her name?” I asked Jackson.

  “Melissa.”

  “Melissa,” I repeated. “I hate her.”

  I hated her for all that she’d done to break Jackson’s spirit. I hated her for abandoning him. I hated that because of her, he didn’t trust anyone. It was her fault that he’d closed off his heart.

  Jackson’s hand came to my knee. “Maybe your mom is right. Maybe I should confront her. Find out what she wants. Then we can all let her go. For good.”

  The concern in his eyes wasn’t for himself, but for me, because he didn’t want his burden to bring me down.

  “Okay. It’s settled.” Mom stood from her chair. “Jackson, have you had breakfast? You look like you need some greasy food. I’ll make you an omelet.”

  “Thanks, Betty.”

  Dad stood too, grabbing Jackson’s coffee mug. “I’ll get you a refill.”

  As they disappeared into the kitchen, Jackson spun in his chair. He took my face in his hands and gently kissed my forehead. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not staying mad at me even though I deserve it. For getting so worked up over my mother that you’d throw down right beside Hazel.”

  “I’ve never thrown down before, but I think I could win.”

  He chuckled. “I’d put my money on you.”

  We both knew that was total crap. I’d never gotten violent before in my life. But I wouldn’t turn down the chance to punch Jackson’s mother in the face—or at least nod along as Hazel said some not-so-nice things.

  “I’m sorry for spilling everything to my parents without asking,” I told him.

  “I get it. You were upset and needed to talk. I’m just not used to sharing.”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m glad you did.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Feels kind of good to have the Doon family in my corner. And I think your mom is right. I need to do this on my terms. I don’t want to keep waiting for her to show back up again.”

  “Do you, um . . . want me to go with you?” I wanted to be there for him, but I also understood if this was something he had to do alone.

  “Would you?”

  I nodded. “I’m there.”

  “Thanks, babe.” He kissed my forehead again. “Maybe we can go down this afternoon. I need a nap first. I feel like shit.”

  “I could use a nap too. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “That’s my fault. Sorry.”

  I patted his leg. “It’s done. After breakfast, we’ll crash for a while, then wake up and start the day fresh.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Though I need to work in a shower somewhere in there.”

  I winked. “I’m sure we could arrange that.”

  A spark of heat hit his eyes. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now.”

  “Then do.”

  “Not until I find a toothbrush,” he grumbled.

  I giggled. “Did you know I’ve only been drunk once?”

  “No shit?” he asked.

  “My friends always told me that when you wake up with a hangover, you feel like a cat took a crap in your mouth. I didn’t understand that until I had too many drinks at a party my freshman year and blacked out.”

  “Blacked out?” His mouth turned down. “I don’t like the idea of you drinking so much you blacked out.”

  “Me neither.”

  Because the night I had gotten drunk had been the night Leighton had been assaulted. Maybe I could have prevented it if I hadn’t guzzled jungle juice for an hour. Maybe it would have been me instead. The two of us had gone over that night time and time again without answers. Finally, we’d agreed to leave it in the past and neither of us had had the desire to drink heavil
y again.

  “It was my one and only party,” I told Jackson. “I haven’t been drunk since.”

  “I think you’re on to something. I feel like death,” he moaned.

  I cupped his stubbled cheek. “I’ll make you feel better.”

  “You already did.” With a quick grab, he yanked me out of my chair and into his lap. Then he buried his face in my neck as his arms held me tight.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder as he breathed into my hair. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but I’d almost fallen asleep in his arms when I heard my parents.

  “Just let them be,” Dad whispered.

  “What about his breakfast?” Mom whispered back.

  “Willa will take care of him.”

  And I would.

  It hadn’t been hard to track down my mother. Like Thea had written in her text, Mom’s green sedan was in the lot of the motel.

  The car was a hell of a lot nicer than the one I remembered from my childhood. But I guess when you got rid of your kid, your expenses dropped and you could afford a newer vehicle.

  I didn’t want to explain to the motel owners why I needed Melissa Page’s room number, so with Willa at my side, I parked my truck in the lot and walked up to the door directly in front of her car. The motel was fairly empty this time of year and even if I knocked on a few wrong doors, it was worth the hassle so people in town wouldn’t know who Mom was.

  With a deep breath and a glance over my shoulder at Willa, I pounded on the door. Behind it, someone shuffled and mumbled before it swung open.

  “Jackson.” Mom looked me up and down before doing the same with Willa. “Finally decided to talk to me?”

  I took a step back and crossed my arms over my chest. From the corner of my eye, I saw Willa do the same. Her protective streak was a mile wide right now and I fucking loved it. It felt almost as good as it had when her parents had called me family this morning.

  I wouldn’t ever be an official member of the Doon family, but like I’d done with my foster families, I’d get to claim them for a time. That was good enough for me. They were a hell of a lot better than the woman standing in front of me.

  “What’s it going to take to get you to leave and stay away for good?”

  “Just assume I want somethin’?” She frowned. “What if I was here to stay?”

  “You wouldn’t be welcome.”

  Her face turned down, like she was hurt that I didn’t give her a hug, a kiss and a Hey, Mom, I missed ya!

  As she stood there, looking like the victim, my temper roared. Feelings I’d kept buried deep for years were boiling to the surface. I clamped my arms across my chest, keeping my arms and fists pinned. I didn’t trust myself with this much anger rolling through my bloodstream. The only thing keeping me composed was Willa and my desire to get some answers.

  “Seems like a waste of time to track me down,” I told her. “You could have found me a long time ago. Instead, you dumped me with a damn stranger and never looked back.”

  “Oh, please.” She waved me off. “My sister, your own aunt, is hardly a stranger. Don’t act like I abandoned you. You were with your family while I had to take care of a few things.”

  I scoffed. “Yeah. I was with family. For. A. Week. Then this family dumped me too. When you drove off to take care of these things of yours, did you at least look back once or twice in your rearview? I can’t remember. I do remember your sister—my own aunt—didn’t look back. Not once. Aunt Marie didn’t even get out of the car when she dropped me off at social services. Nope. Just pulled up to the curb and told me not to forget my backpack.”

  I waited, hoping for a flash of surprise or remorse to cross Mom’s face, but it never came. “I didn’t know she would do that.”

  “No,” I said through gritted teeth. “You were long gone by then. So back to my original question. What the fuck is it going to take for you to leave Lark Cove and my life for good?”

  Because then I could block it all out.

  I’d forget about that scared little boy who stood outside the social services building all day until finally, a social worker came outside to ask if he was lost.

  I hadn’t been lost, just left behind.

  Lost came later as I moved from foster house to foster house, never once finding a home. All because this woman had things to take care of.

  “Forget it,” I clipped. She wasn’t sorry. She didn’t care. There would be no answer for me today.

  As of now, she was dead to me.

  “Let’s go, Willa.” I turned to leave but stopped at the sound of a new voice.

  “Mom?”

  I froze as Willa gasped. There was no question which motel room that voice had come from or who it was addressing.

  I turned around slowly, facing my mother just as a boy emerged from the motel room. But he wasn’t just a boy. He was her kid.

  What the actual fuck? She had another kid? She’d left me to fend for myself at nine years old, then she’d had another son.

  The boy stood by Mom’s side, staring right at me before he whispered, “Is that him?”

  Mom threw her arm around his shoulders. “Yep. This is your big brother, Jackson.”

  “Hey.” The kid smiled like he’d been waiting his entire life to meet me.

  I stared at him with a slack jaw. Was this why she’d come here? To introduce me to my younger brother?

  I had no idea how old he was, maybe eleven or twelve, like some of the kids at Willa’s camp. What I did know was that his jeans were four inches too long and his sweatshirt would have fit me better than it did him. Why was he wearing such baggy clothes? Couldn’t Mom afford ones in his size?

  He didn’t look a thing like her—or me for that matter. The only similarity I had with her was light hair and the color of our blue eyes. He didn’t even have that. His skin was darker, like his dad had been African-American. His eyes were a rich brown and his curly black hair was cropped short.

  My half-brother.

  The kid stepped forward, away from Mom, and held out a hand. “I’m Ryder.”

  Ryder? This just kept getting better.

  “Ryder?” I huffed, ignoring the kid and glaring at Mom. “Are you fucking joking? You named him Ryder? Did you forget that you already used that for my middle name?”

  The kid flinched, but I kept my glare on Mom.

  She shrugged it off, staring at me with complete indifference.

  I hated her. Jesus, fuck, but I hated her. The tension on the sidewalk was stifling, making the cool fall air heavy and hot.

  The kid shifted his weight back and forth as his extended hand dropped slowly along with his eyes. But before he could shrink away, Willa stepped up and caught his hand, returning the handshake that had been meant for me.

  “Um . . . hi, Ryder. I’m Willa.”

  He gave her a shaky smile as they shook but then looked right back to me with big, brown, hopeful eyes.

  I recognized that hope—I’d had that same look once.

  After Mom and my aunt dumped me, I’d longed for someone to welcome me with open arms. I’d needed someone to accept me. But the people in the first foster home hardly paid me any attention. They only kept me for a month. The next home was the same, though they kept me for two months. The third let me stay a week.

  And each time I packed up my backpack, hope faded.

  I wouldn’t be the guy to take that from this kid, so I held out my hand. “Hey, Ryder. I’m Jackson. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” He shook my hand with a bright smile, then let it go. “Mom told me about you.”

  About what? She didn’t even know me. I looked over his head to see Mom looking bored.

  “Is this why you came?” I asked her. “For a family reunion?”

  “Ryder, give me a minute with Jackson.” Mom stepped farther out onto the sidewalk, nodding for Ryder to go back into the room. “And shut the door.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled. He gave me another smile b
efore going inside and closing the door.

  “How old is he?” I asked Mom before she could talk.

  “Twelve.”

  “Twelve,” I repeated, shaking my head. After I’d spent my entire childhood needing a mother, she’d found it in herself to become one to someone else.

  “So is he why you came to find me?”

  She nodded. “Need you to take him for a while.”

  The disgust tasted worse in my mouth than my hangover breath. My mother was disgusting. Simply disgusting.

  She’d tracked me down after all these years to pawn off another one of her kids.

  “You want me to take him?” I asked. “Are you serious?”

  “You’re his only family and he’s a good kid. He won’t give you any trouble.”

  A memory came rushing back of the day she’d left me at Aunt Marie’s. Mom had said those exact same words about me.

  “So you came to pawn him off on me. Does he know?” Was that why he’d looked at me like I was his salvation?

  Mom shook her head. “Thought it would be best to tell him together.”

  “Of course, you did,” Willa said dryly. “You always put the needs of your children first.”

  “This ain’t your business,” Mom snapped at her.

  “Why?” I asked before Willa could respond. “I want a reason why you’re leaving him here.”

  “That ain’t your business either. But you either take him or he’s on his own.”

  What choice did I have? She’d backed me into a corner, piling all of this on my conscience so that if Ryder went into the system, I’d feel guilty.

  “You’re a fucking bitch.” The words were cathartic.

  Mom rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like your granddaddy.”

  “Too bad I didn’t get to meet him. I think we would have had a lot in common.”

  “You gonna take Ryder or not?” She was getting flustered, the color in her cheeks rising.

  “How did you even find me?”

  She shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. Hired a guy to track you down online with your social security number.”

  Because she’d needed a place for my brother. I bet she had a backpack all loaded up for Ryder, just like she’d done with me.