When I Found You

by Brenda Novak

* * *

  It was an hour after Natasha had hung up with Dylan and gone back inside to unpack her bedroom that her phone went off again. Rocking back on her heels from where she was crouched in front of the dresser, putting away her clothes, she reached up to get her phone.

  It was Ace.

  “Oh great.” Her ex-husband was the last person she wanted to talk to, but she knew it wasn’t reasonable to think she could cut him out of her life entirely. That would require some time, possibly a lot of it.

  Taking a moment to find her center, she answered. “Hello?”

  “You make it to Silver Springs okay?” he asked.

  As if he cared. He knew she’d have Lucas and would be loading and driving a big truck—something she had no experience doing—and yet he hadn’t offered to lend a hand. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t tell me you moved all by yourself.”

  He’d been hoping she’d need him, that she’d call and ask for his assistance so that he could show her what she’d be missing out on in the future.

  Sometimes he was so transparent. He may have asked for the divorce, but he hadn’t really wanted it. He’d threatened to leave her to shock her into lavishing him with more attention and apologies for what they were going through. After all, she was the one who’d hired Maxine Green. Nothing bad would’ve happened had she not done that (he said). Instead, his threat to dissolve their marriage—at a time when she was going through so much in other regards—had broken the last of her loyalty and commitment, and she’d realized she wasn’t happy, either. “No, I had someone help.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend.” She was reluctant to give him Mack’s name. She knew he’d say something sarcastic. She’d made the mistake of telling him about Mack—not everything but some of it—and he’d never forgotten or let it go. Although she’d since tried to act as though Mack had never been anything more than a childish crush, he’d thrown Mack up to her again and again, whenever they got into an argument. What? I can’t compare with the great Mack Amos? I’m not the man he is?

  He wasn’t. But she’d never said that. She’d revealed too much that night, after they’d both had several glasses of wine, and he would never let her take it back.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked. They’d already agreed that he’d pick up Lucas a week from Friday. So why was he calling now?

  “It’s not what you can do for me. It’s what I can do for you,” he announced.

  That would be a first. She was being sarcastic herself, but he had to be the most selfish person she’d ever met. “I don’t understand.”

  “I ran across something of yours. Something I’m pretty sure you’ll want back.”

  Natasha couldn’t imagine what that could be. Some of Lucas’s baby pictures? She’d want those, but Ace would never give them to her. Just to be spiteful, she doubted he’d even allow her to make copies. Could it be a piece of her jewelry? She’d never owned anything of much value. She had the locket Mack had given her at her high school graduation. Other than that, she didn’t have any jewelry she particularly cared about. Her wedding ring had been the only thing Ace had ever given her. It’d been expensive, but his parents had paid for it, and she’d already pawned it for $2,500 to be able to stay afloat until she could get on her feet again. “What is it?”

  “A box of your childhood pictures and stuff.”

  She got up and walked over to the window. He had that box? The pictures in it were the only ones she had from when she was little. Her mother wasn’t much for hanging on to things—she’d been too transient—so Natasha felt lucky to have that much. “How did that wind up in your stuff?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “Where’d you find it?”

  “In an even bigger box with my yearbooks and other things I took out of the attic. You must’ve stuck it in there after we got married and forgot about it.”

  That was plausible. She’d been so busy trying to be a wife and mother while finishing med school, and then fulfill her residency, she hadn’t given much thought to anything else. She’d been trying to outdistance her past, not dwell on it. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No problem. Would you like me to drive it out to you tomorrow?”

  Absolutely not. She didn’t want to have any unnecessary contact with him.

  She considered asking him to mail it instead, but she doubted he’d go to the trouble. And if he got the impression she didn’t want to see him, she wouldn’t put it past him to toss it all. He was bitter about the divorce, far more so than she was, even though he was the one who’d first wanted to call it quits.

  “Sure. That’d be great,” she said. But then she thought of another solution. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than having Ace come to Silver Springs.

  “Actually, my friend’s in LA returning the moving van right now. If you’ll just set it out on the stoop, I could ask him to swing by and pick it up. Would that be okay?”

  “Him?” he said.

  She winced. “Yeah.”

  “Who is it?”

  “No one you’ve met.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I just want to know his name,” he said.

  It sounded as though he was getting upset, so she relented. “It’s Mack, okay?”

  “Mack Amos? From the family of rowdy boys who raised you?”

  “They didn’t raise me. They let me and my mother live with them for three years so I could finish high school.”

  “Oh, that’s right. That’s when you fell in love with the youngest one.”

  “Nothing happened with Mack when I was living there, and you know that.”

  “Because you were too young, and he was too honorable.”

  Hearing the sarcasm in those words, she ground her teeth. “He was.”

  “Is that why you’ve never gotten over him?”

  Thank God she’d never told Ace about the night she’d spent with Mack over Christmas. She’d never felt as though she owed that to him. As far as she knew, he’d been seeing other women during the same period. “I’ve told you before—that was just a childish crush.”

  “Really? Because sometimes I wonder if Mack Amos is the reason I could never really break through.”

  “Let’s not start this,” she said. Ace always complained that she was too aloof, too hard to engage, too indifferent to him, even though she’d tried hard to be otherwise. “I gave our marriage everything I had.”

  “No, you didn’t. You held back. You didn’t even care when I asked for a divorce.”

  “I’ve been very fair with you all along, including the divorce. I gave you everything you asked for, even though I could’ve gotten out of spousal support. I don’t have an income right now myself, not until I start my new job.”

  “Your earning potential is a lot greater than mine, since I was the one to make the sacrifice of staying home with Lucas.”

  Sacrifice? It was hard not to laugh. He hadn’t stayed home to do her any favors. He’d done it so that he could game 24/7. But she decided not to say that. Why let this argument escalate? “Whatever. I still gave you what you wanted.”

  “Out of guilt. Not love.”

  “Not guilt,” she insisted. “I never did anything that wrong. So, please, just put the box out and let my friend pick it up.”

  “Your friend. Sure, why not? He can come by. Give him my address and tell him the box is here waiting for him.”

  Something in his voice made her uneasy. “You’d be stupid to mess with Mack, Ace.”

  “Oh yeah? Is that a warning?”

  “Just a heads-up.”

  “You think he could take me?”

  Easily. But she didn’t want them
to wind up in a fight, and she hadn’t told Ace that to make him feel inferior. “No. He’s not part of this. He’s just helping me move.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  What was she worried about? Although Ace could get angry and say some stupid things, he’d never been violent. She’d had almost no contact with Mack since they’d married—certainly not the type that should make Ace think Mack had interfered in any way. Besides, they were divorced. She could hang out with whomever she pleased. “Nothing. Never mind. So you’re putting it out?”

  “Yep. Right now.”

  She figured she’d talk to Mack, see what he thought. If he wasn’t comfortable going there, she’d drive over as soon as he returned so that someone would be home with Lucas through the night. As much as she’d tried to outdistance her past, she hated to risk losing her personal items for good, when she had so little from her childhood to begin with. “Okay, thanks,” she said and disconnected so that she could call Mack.

  He answered on the first ring. “I just got the truck back,” he announced. “Heading your way now.”

  “Have you already left the LA area?”

  “Not quite. Why?”

  “My ex-husband has a box of pictures and other stuff that means a lot to me. It’s all I have of my childhood, and I’m afraid of what he might do to it if I don’t get it from him right away. I know it’s late, so I feel bad asking, but he said he’d set it outside if—”

  “You want me to grab it? Of course. Where does he live?”

  Mack acted like it would be no big deal. And it shouldn’t be. Maybe she was reading too much into Ace’s response. Mack had nothing to do with their marriage falling apart—other than existing. “I’m a little hesitant to give it to you,” she admitted.

  “Is it that far?”

  “It shouldn’t be. It’s Burbank, but he was acting strange on the phone. I’m afraid he might give you a hard time just because you’re helping me.”

  “Why would that be any of his business?”

  “You know how messy divorces can be. Old feelings, resentment.”

  “Well, if there are any hard feelings, I think it’s better that I pick it up instead of you.”

  “Except I don’t want him to start anything.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  Should he be? She hesitated while weighing it all out in her mind. No. It should be no big deal. Mack was already in LA. If Ace set out her memorabilia, he could grab it and the two men wouldn’t even have to see each other.

  “I’ve already turned around,” Mack said. “Text me his address.”

  She crossed to her bed and dropped onto it. “Okay. I’m probably worried for nothing. You’d only be picking up a small box.”

  “Right. I’ve never even met this man. Why would we have a problem?”

  “Exactly.” Feeling better about the whole thing—and hoping she could get her pictures and other mementos before something happened to them—she provided Ace’s address.

  Six

  The porch light was on, giving Mack the impression Ace was expecting him, but he couldn’t find a box, a bag or anything else at the front door. He considered calling Natasha to ask for Ace’s phone number—he knew Ace had roommates and didn’t want to wake the whole household by pounding on the door if he didn’t have to—but he was afraid Natasha had fallen asleep, and if he disturbed her she’d be up for the rest of the night.

  After checking one more time around the stoop and nearby bushes, he lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could make contact.

  “You must be Mack.”

  A tall, slender man stood there in a tank top, cutoffs and flip-flops, someone who looked like the quintessential Southern California surfer, with gleaming teeth, a deep tan, a leather necklace and bleached bangs that were so long he had to keep flipping them out of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m Mack,” he said, instantly wary. Something wasn’t right: he could tell. What kind of game was Ace playing? Why hadn’t he just left the box outside, as he’d said he would? “And you’re Ace, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  In an attempt to be polite, Mack stuck out his hand, but Ace wouldn’t take it, so Mack said, “Can I get what I came for?”

  “In a sec. First, I have something I’d like to say to you.”

  Mack took a step back. He could hear the suppressed emotion in Ace’s voice. “What’s that? Because I don’t think there’s anything to say. We don’t even know each other.”

  “For one thing, I’d like to hear you say you’ve never slept with my wife.”

  That was a loaded question, one Mack knew he had to handle carefully. He couldn’t categorically deny any sexual contact with Natasha. What if Lucas turned out to be his? How would he explain that? He hadn’t touched Natasha since she’d been married, but clarifying would give away that he had touched her before. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business—not at this point.”

  “She lived with you and your brothers for three years when she was only sixteen. I can’t believe none of you tapped a piece of ass that fine and that accessible.”

  Mack felt his muscles bunch but told himself to keep a cool head. “As you’ve mentioned, she was only sixteen. I was twenty-five. Sleeping with her would not only have been morally wrong, it would’ve been a crime.”

  “And you’re claiming that stopped you? When she was dying to fuck you and her mother was always so stoned she had no one to look out for her?”

  Even Ace’s choice of words were inflammatory. “We were there to look after her,” Mack said, keeping his tone measured.

  “You expect me to believe you didn’t do anything with her before she turned eighteen? You’re lying, and that’s why she’s so screwed up she can’t love anyone but you.”

  “I didn’t touch her when she lived with us,” Mack reiterated. “It wasn’t like that.” But there were certainly moments when the situation nearly got away from him. The harder he’d tried to keep his thoughts and desires under control, the harder she’d tried to make him change his mind. Sometimes she wouldn’t close her door all the way when she was changing, if she knew he was the only one at home, or she’d purposely walk back to her room after a shower in nothing but a towel. Even when his brothers were around, she’d brush up against him at every opportunity. She’d kept him so sexually frustrated he’d slept with a lot of other women, just to satisfy that urge. By the time she’d moved out at nineteen, it had been all he could do not to give her exactly what she was asking for—until they’d both had their fill.

  But, somehow, he’d managed to restrain himself for seven more years. It wasn’t until that Christmas, when she was in her twenties, that he hadn’t been able to deny himself.

  “You’re so full of shit,” Ace scoffed.

  “Look, is there a point to this?” Mack asked. “Because it’s late, I’ve got a long drive ahead of me and I’d just as soon be on my way.”

  “Actually, I do have a point.”

  “And that is...”

  “Lucas is my point.”

  The hair stood up on the back of Mack’s neck. “Your son?”

  “That’s just it. Is he my son?” Ace asked, his eyes sparking with tightly leashed fury.

  “Far as I know.” Mack wasn’t about to say anything more, not if he could help it. First, he had to establish Lucas’s paternity. Then they could figure out a way to deal with the results.

  “You’re saying you don’t think he could be yours?” After reaching inside the house, Ace held up a small journal, which he opened and began to read aloud. “‘God, I’m tired. And I have a big test coming up. I need to concentrate, and yet I can’t quit thinking about Mack finally stripping off our clothes and pressing inside me. Nothing in my life has ever felt so good. I didn’t want to come, because then I knew he’d come and it would all be over
. But it was impossible to hold back. I’ve never had a night like that one. The only problem is, I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Ace. Do I stay in the relationship—or get out of it?’”

  “That’s enough,” Mack grumbled.

  Ace sneered at him but seemed to be choking up at the same time. “Do you want me to give you the date of this entry?”

  “No.” He already knew the date. It had been two days before Christmas over seven years ago. He hadn’t been able to forget that night, either.

  “That stupid bitch lied to me!” he cried. “She told me she loved me. I never knew she’d been with anyone else, not after I started seeing her. I assumed a pregnancy meant the baby was mine.”

  Mack winced. “To be fair, I don’t think she knows any different.”

  “She had to have known there was a possibility!” His voice had been rising all along; now he was shouting. “Tell her I don’t want anything to do with her ever again. Tell her I will never even look at Lucas, never come near him, never be his dad. She used me. She used me because she couldn’t have you. And now she’s wrecked my life,” he said and slammed the door.

  Natasha would never have purposely used Ace or anyone else. She wasn’t the type. She must’ve thought she loved him enough to make it work—to create the family she’d always wanted and never had. Or she wouldn’t have married him. But Mack still felt partially responsible. The way he’d responded to that night had been wrong. He was sorry for that, but he couldn’t change the past. So what did he do now? And, more specifically, how did he react in this moment? Ace still had Natasha’s journal and pictures, and he obviously wasn’t planning on giving them back.

  Mack stood on the stoop, trying to decide if he should risk a fight by pushing the issue. He wanted to, but even if he banged on the door, he doubted Ace would answer.

  “What a mess,” he muttered as he returned to his truck.

  Once he was behind the wheel, he called Natasha.

  Her voice was thick with sleep when she answered. “You okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Did you get my stuff?”