Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3)

by Giordano, Lauren

  She nodded. "Linc felt if he stayed away long enough, you'd jump in at the shelter and see what amazing people they are."

  "Well, that certainly happened." He released an unsteady breath. "So— Mari didn't know what he was up to, right?"

  Relief flooded him, her expression reassuringly mortified. "Good Lord, no. I didn't know myself until a few weeks ago."

  Jeff didn't want to analyze the crazy, desperate reaction he'd just experienced. When— for the briefest, painful moment he'd imagined it not being real. Picturing Marisol— only dating him because his father had meddled. Or worse— donated money. But that hadn't happened, his brain reminded. Their relationship was real. No one could mess it up—except him.

  He forced the disturbing thought aside. It was probably time to shift their conversation to higher ground. "Jake and I noticed you seem to be spending a lot of time with Dad. What's that about?"

  Suddenly very interested in her salad, his mom shifted her gaze. "We've always stayed on good terms-"

  Jeff choked on his tea. " You two didn't seem all that tight during his granola chick phase. Zoe. . . Chloe . . . Moonbeam. . ."

  "That's enough," she scolded. "Despite our differences. . . we've always been respectful." Her smile didn't match her eyes as she fidgeted with her fork. "A part of me will always love your dad. It's not as thought we broke up over another woman . . . or some huge character flaw."

  "Why did you break up?" He sensed them drifting again . . . into dangerous conversational waters. Yet, Jeff realized he wanted answers— to questions he'd always been too hesitant to ask. After their divorce, he'd been too young to ask adult questions— the whys and how-did-this-happen sort of questions. Immediately, he'd needed reassurance— that his world wasn't snapping off its axis. Jake had been in college, but Jeff was still living with his parents when they'd called it quits.

  "I— was lonely." She shrugged. "Over the years, your dad had become a workaholic. I waited . . . and waited. First, he said he needed to work eighty hours a week to get the business going. Bucky wasn't much help back in those days— with Sarah's drinking problem. Your father had to pick up the slack."

  Her eyes looked so stricken, Jeff almost wished he could withdraw his question. "Mom— I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

  She offered a brave smile. "It's okay, Jeffie. Nothing new here, just a long time buried." She picked up her teaspoon, twisting the stem in suddenly restless fingers. "Anyway— that was the first fifteen years. After the business was successful . . . I assumed Linc would finally be a husband again. He'd made plenty of money. You boys and your sister were set— you know . . . college and money for your future." Her pensive sigh lanced him with guilt.

  "Then Linc's excuse became one of maintaining productivity. I finally had to admit the man I married wasn't ever coming back." Her gaze drifted to the window. "Seven years into that decade, Bucky passed away. Jake and Harrison were still in college-"

  The silence lengthened. "You know the rest. I'd spent nearly twenty-five years of our marriage alone."

  Like a part of your life that had always been there— like a painting on the wall you stopped noticing long ago, Jeff had stopped noticing how alone his mother was. How alone they were. As a teen, his dad had never been around.

  "I thought every dad was like that— you know? Working fourteen hour days?" Like a visiting phantom, he saw Linc only occasionally. Most nights Jeff never caught a glimpse. Two strangers sharing the same space, breathing the same air, yet never seeming to occupy it at the same time. He tried to imagine being married to someone like that. How lonely his mother must have been.

  "You know he did it for you— for us." Mona's defense of him was automatic, despite the fact that she'd lost him to Specialty.

  "I'm not criticizing, Mom. When you're a kid, you don't really understand what's happening. You pick up on the vibes and you wonder what's happening . . . and how it'll affect you." He shrugged. "Sounds pretty selfish, right?"

  Her hand found his across the table. "No, Jeffie. It sounds exactly like what a kid would think. Surprisingly, you seemed to absorb it better than your brother."

  "Not really." Jeff hesitated, not wanting to hurt her feelings after all this time. "I think I just hid it better than Jake."

  "What do you mean?"

  God— did he really want to go there? "I was scared. It knocked me on my ass. The whole thing just seemed to come out of nowhere."

  She turned, but not before he saw the flash of pain in her eyes. The one solid, sure thing Jeff had always known was that his mother would never have inflicted harm to her kids, intentional or otherwise. "I . . . I'm sorry, Jeff— I guess I always wondered . . . how you'd handled it so well."

  What choice had there been? To a seventeen year old, an absentee father was still better than no father. But Jeff had never voiced his opinion. He couldn't be the one who made things worse for his mother. He'd had to be cheerful— or at least not make her cry. He'd done the same for his dad. Not making waves. Keeping their conversations light— the rare times he saw him. Burying his own anxiety about the breakup. Along with the guilt and relief he'd experienced the following year when he escaped— leaving for college. Running from the quiet, empty house that no longer felt like home.

  "It was a long time ago, Mom. I'm fine."

  Her expression thoughtful, she stared at him for several moments. "I never wanted to blame your father. He's a good man. I never wanted our breakup to be about choosing sides— although that's what it became for your brother."

  At least Jake had been able to get angry— cruelly so, perhaps, because he'd blamed their mother over the divorce, instead of Linc's work. But at least Jake had burned it out of his system. Even though their dad had been AWOL for most of their childhood, Mona had been the family rock. Always there. In the morning before school and waiting every night. Dinner warming in the oven . . . sometimes for hours depending on which sport season they were in. The table usually set for just the two of them. Their father forever working while she'd attended his soccer games in the fall, basketball in the winter and they'd road-tripped to Jake's college games in between.

  At least, that's how it had been before she'd announced the divorce. After that, Jake hadn't wanted to see her. Hadn't wanted to see anyone. He'd even turned his anger on him when Jeff refused to take sides. The months of isolation when Jake cut him off had left him feeling anchorless.

  Thankfully, the snub had only lasted a few months. To his gut-shredding relief, once Jake worked through his anger, he'd reconnected. Jeff finally regained his brother. But that period of his life had been a nightmare— a reversal of everything he'd believed to be firmly planted . . . to be solid and true. Instead, he'd been completely uprooted. As though a tornado had touched down in his life and he'd been the only person left standing. He'd walked out of the wreckage, seemingly unscathed, with everyone shaking their heads over the miracle. When all the while, on the inside— he'd been absolutely flattened.

  Ultimately, his parents' divorce had taught him valuable lessons. The first was that nothing lasted— even those things you wanted more than anything. The second was no matter how he really felt, it was always safer to maintain a good front. That way, no one got hurt.

  Chapter 8

  "Mari, what's wrong?"

  Sharon's voice filtered through the clamor in her head. Too shaken to speak the terrifying words tangled in her throat, Marisol handed her the note she clutched.

  The older woman's forehead creased with concern as she scanned the telephone message. "Damn that woman. When is she going to leave him alone?"

  Her heart pounding, Marisol stared at her friend, desperate not to cry. She should be furious— with the woman who used her son as a bargaining chip. Instead, her heart drilled with fear. "D-did you see? It says 'several calls'. Apparently she's been calling for two weeks."

  A shudder tore through her. Two weeks. Wasted. Two weeks she could've been strategizing . . . contacting social services . . . maybe hirin
g a lawyer to see if she could petition to move up the custody hearing.

  "Sugar— how could we not know? She has to be lying. There's no way we've been getting calls for two weeks and not hearin' about it. Everyone knows to be on the lookout for any contact from Luz. Someone would've told you."

  She'd thought that too. But now, Mari wasn't so sure. "Look at this place, Sharon. It's crazy loud . . . there are people everywhere. We have new interns. I know we haven't mentioned Hector's circumstances at the last four staff meetings." Or was it five? Or six?

  Construction of the new wing had taken precedent over everything else. There were constantly decisions to make and they were always urgent. For two months, the less pressing agenda items had slid to the back burner. They'd been operating in a vacuum ever since. Noise. Confusion. Dust. Strangers everywhere. Keeping the feeding areas clean had become a top priority. And security.

  After another threat from a drunken Phil, they'd taken as much precaution as possible. But even that effort was cobbled together based on the construction schedule. One day they were a stronghold. A fortress. The next day— another wall would come down, a new footprint through the building would be required and a new set of faces would arrive. And their security would slip again.

  "We need to get a better handle on the stuff we've let slip," Sharon agreed. "I had no idea the construction process would occupy so much of our time. It's like there's always something that has to be relocated or cleaned and put back together."

  "The phone system was out for three days last week," she reminded. One of the subcontractors had sliced wires that, according to the blueprints shouldn't have been there. The receptionist had been relocated twice in the past month so construction could take place around her. Next week she would move back to her original location.

  Sharon released a gusty sigh. "It's worse because we didn't want to close while the wing got built. Linc recommended we shut down operations for several weeks . . . but where the hell do all the hungry people go?"

  Mari wanted to commiserate but couldn't seem to focus on anything beyond the immediate, terrifying problem of Hector's mother, Luz Covas. The drug addict who was now demanding visitation— when she hadn't bothered to contact her son in nearly a year.

  "She probably has been calling to see him." Mari hadn't been as vigilant as usual. With Jeff in their lives, she'd allowed her fears to subside. Guilt swamping her, she admitted she'd relaxed her guard. Too busy being happy. She hadn't wanted any ugliness to intrude. Eager to shelve her worries and watch time elapse until the custody hearing in September.

  Now, she faced the possibility she could be forced to allow Luz access to Hector again. And who would protect him this time? Luz held the power to damage him. Her visits were sporadic and selfish. Weepy and demanding— she wanted from Hector things he was far too young to give her. Then— thankfully, she would disappear again. But in her wake she would leave a shadow of sadness and misery that affected Hector for weeks. Now that he was older, he remembered more. Weeks after a visit, when Mari would be certain he was finally back to his normal, cheerful self, Hector would repeat something Luz said, her cruel, manipulative words meant to chip away at his happiness. And it worked.

  There was also the fear Luz would try to kidnap him again. He'd been only two the last time she'd slipped him out of the shelter. A tremor of foreboding slid down her spine. Thankfully, the police had found him before. . .

  Shaking off her terror, she released a cleansing breath. If she kept thinking that way, she would lose it.

  "Just because she claims to want to see Hector doesn't mean she gets her way." Sharon gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll get DSS on the phone to see what our options are this time."

  Drumming nervous fingers on the desk, Mari nodded. "You're right." She knew the rules. She knew the system. Luz couldn't possibly win, but she could keep showing up just often enough to delay her own chances to finally gain full custody. She wanted Hector free and clear. She wanted to never see Luz again. Logically, she knew Luz couldn't win. But it was impossible to think rationally when it impacted her son.

  Once Sharon left her office, Marisol stole a few minutes to calm herself. She'd learned the deep breathing exercises during her counseling sessions after Nick. They offered a method of coping with feelings that were too big. Fear. Anxiety. In a way, the situation she faced now was similar to the anger and guilt she'd experienced after Nick. Weighed down by feelings of betrayal and shame— mostly at herself for allowing it to happen. A few minutes earlier she'd been overwhelmed by fear of a person who shouldn't have the power to hurt her. Luz would not win. The stakes were too high. No matter the cost, she would protect Hector.

  When a hand grazed her shoulder, Mari flinched, instinct rocketing her away from the source. Out of reach of his fists. Her chair careened back, thudding against the wall before she recognized it was Jeff.

  "Easy, hon. I didn't mean to scare you."

  Hand at her throat, Marisol forced an uneven laugh, heart pounding violently. "S-sorry. I didn't hear you coming."

  One look at her face and Jeff's eyes flared with concern. "What's wrong?"

  Releasing a shaky breath, she schooled her features, struggling to regain control. Snap out of it. She hadn't experienced a flashback in nearly a year. "Nothing— H-how can you tell?"

  He helped to right her chair before tugging her against him. "Well, for one thing you nearly launched yourself through the wall into Katie's office." He nuzzled her throat, pressing his lips to her erratic pulse. "I'm happy to fix the drywall. But-" His mouth drifted higher, making her shudder. "I'd have to charge you for a change order."

  "Perhaps we could arrange . . . a barter." Mustering a lighthearted tone her body didn't yet feel, Marisol prayed he wouldn't notice.

  "With you, that can always be arranged. Are you cold?" Large, warm hands stroked the goosebumps on her arms. "Do I look that bad?" She felt his grin against her cheek. "I forgot to shave this morning, but I didn't think it would actually scare you."

  Warmth seeping into her where his body touched hers, her smile was half-hearted. "Y-you caught me off guard."

  When his scrutiny began to feel as though she were being examined under a microscope, she dropped her gaze. What was wrong with her? For a terrifying second, she'd imagined Nick had returned. Worse than the flashback was the helpless anger it churned up— an angry, frothing wake she'd believed had been set adrift. How could a man she hadn't seen in two years . . . still hold the power to frighten her? To make her question herself. Cause her to distrust every other man— including Jeff.

  "I'm fine." As Jeff held her, too many questions in his eyes, Mari forced a levity she didn't feel. "It's nothing."

  "Babe, it's not nothing."

  He still didn't know. About Nick. He didn't know anything of that terrible time . . . her history . . . her issues. He knew nothing about her. Nothing that actually mattered. Because somewhere along the way, they'd decided it was easier not to learn about each other. More fun not to delve into each other's problems. Or hopes. Or dreams. They didn't confide in one another. Because nothing between them was permanent. She'd known instinctively it was how Jeff would prefer their relationship. But she was equally to blame. Because . . . keeping it light . . . having fun— was easier. And in the long run— keeping Jefferson at a distance was less risky to her heart. "Your eyes are red." Jeff stroked a finger down her nose. "And you're too pale." Leaning against her desk blotter, he tugged her between his legs. "Come on. What gives?" His hold on her suddenly tightened. "Is it Phil again?"

  Raising her gaze, his expression had turned grim. "It's not Phil. But if it was . . . we would handle-"

  "Marisol— this isn't up for debate." Exasperated, he cut her off. "He will not get anywhere near you again. Is that clear? I won't allow it."

  "Won't allow?" Irritation flared in her chest. Despite Mari's worry over the more immediate issue with Hector's mother, Jeff's ultimatum set her off. She opened her mouth to remind him exactl
y who was in charge at the shelter. But before she could find the right words, Jeff raised his fingers, pressing them gently against her lips.

  "I know you're upset . . . but I don't think it's with me." His voice gentled to a husky whisper. "At least not this time," he amended. "But if you'd feel better yelling at me— then go ahead." He paused a beat. "Or you could tell me what's wrong so maybe I can help."

  His dead-on assessment left her deflated, yet her anger dissolved in a heartbeat. With his fingers massaging the tension from her shoulders, Marisol realized she would love nothing more than to confide in Jeff. She wanted desperately to lean on him . . . to dump her problems on the table and allow him to help her sort through them. Because he would fix everything. It's what Jeff did. He solved problems. He kept his clients happy.

  And since he was sleeping with her, Jefferson was apparently willing to bend his rules and become involved. At least for now. Before he grew bored with her, she should probably take advantage of his offer. "I just found out Hector's mom is back," she confessed. "Apparently . . . she's been calling. She wants . . . to see him."

  Worry flared in his eyes. "But— she abandoned him." His grip tightened on her shoulders. "She can't take him, right?"

  She released a shuddering sigh in an increasingly futile attempt to calm herself. "No— but if she k-keeps showing up, she could delay my adoption."

  "How can that happen? Damn it, Mari— Hector needs you."

  Appreciating the hot anger behind Jeff's words, she still felt dangerously vulnerable to the possibility that Luz could cause trouble— and probably planned to do just that. "She has to be declared unfit— which happened once a few years ago."

  "Then why-"

  "No one was interested in adopting Hector back then." Her voice quavering, she continued. "When it happened the first time, I hadn't started fostering yet because I wasn't old enough." And she'd been busy falling in love with Nick. Even without the distraction of her demanding boyfriend, Marisol wouldn't have been mature enough to handle the commitment. "You have to be twenty-five. That’s when I started fostering Hector."