by A. J. Pine
“I know,” she said, not stopping herself as she reached for him now, resting her palm against his chest. Heat spread through him, and he didn’t—couldn’t—push her away. “I remember.”
He shook his head. “Did I tell you what it was he wanted to forget, though? How two years wasn’t enough for my brother to get past his father backhanding him across the face so hard it fractured a goddamn bone in his cheek? And just like I did, he protected Jack Senior. Told the ER doc it was one of the horses.”
Walker’s birthday gift and his first experience with liquor had all happened the day after the party.
“Deputy Wilkes sent me home after taking my statement. I still don’t get why he didn’t press charges after what I’d done to his son. And then Walker…”
Everything was falling into place. Every part of that weekend played out like the worst of his nightmares come true. And that’s exactly what it had been.
Her hand fisted his shirt and the other flew to his cheek. The rain fell freely now, and he watched as the water obscured her tears. He was powerless against her touch, powerless against the memory. Because he knew what came next—the part he hadn’t given a second thought. But he knew it meant everything now.
“I told you right then and there that I didn’t want kids.”
She nodded slowly, hand still on his cheek.
“After what I’d done to Derek and the way Jack Senior kept his hooks in us even when we weren’t under his roof, I said I’d never take the chance I’d turn into him. That I’d never become a father if I could help it. I said that to you while you were pregnant with our child.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, nodding once more.
“We’re one hundred percent them,” he said, the truth of it setting in. “My parents. They got pregnant with me when they were teens, and look how the hell it all turned out.”
“You had to go,” she said. “I brought you there to tell you about Owen, but I knew—after the party and Walker I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t force you to stay in a place that brought you so much pain. Because even though you were off the ranch, it wasn’t over. So I had to say whatever I could to make sure you’d go.” She paused, letting the rain pelt her skin, and he watched it run in rivulets down her cheeks. “You always said you’d come back—and a part of me believed that even after what I’d said, you would, that I’d get the chance to tell you when you were ready.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together to stifle what he guessed was a full-on sob. “But you never did. Not until now.”
He backed away. “I felt like a goddamn monster, Ava. And you telling me to go…I swore that’s what you thought of me, too.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. We were so young, and suddenly I had to deal with what Derek tried to do, what you did to him, and the fact that I was pregnant. It was too much.”
“What about when Owen was a year old? Two? Jesus, Ava, I get why you didn’t tell me that night, but ten years? Ten fucking years?”
“You were engaged!” she cried.
His eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?” He wasn’t denying it, but how in God’s name did she know?
“I went to UCLA,” she said, bitterness dripping off her words. “When you didn’t come back for me, I went after you.” She laughed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I found out you were a clerk at a local law firm, and I went to see you. To tell you everything.” She blew out a long breath. “I sat there in that office while the receptionist went on and on about how much the partners loved you, that you were exactly like your fiancée—putting work and school above everything else.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “I left, Jack. I left as soon as she went down the hall to find you.” Now she crossed her arms over her soaked torso, and that warmth he’d seen in her eyes turned to something he recognized all too well—resentment.
“Ava—”
But this time she was the one to shake her head. “You—you were getting married after I’d spent years changing diapers at four in the morning…joining the preschool PTO because yes, there was one…buying two extra car seats because the only way to be included in the carpool clique was to have all of the necessary equipment!”
She was yelling now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the rain or because she was pissed.
He closed the distance between them. “You’re angry?” he asked, incredulous.
She groaned through gritted teeth. “Yeah! I’m angry!”
He was the one laughing now, the sound just as bitter as hers. “So, what? Am I supposed to apologize for not keeping you up to date on my life? Or for not being there for a kid I never knew about?”
Her chest was heaving. “Yes!” she cried. “Yes! I know it doesn’t make sense and I’m being completely irrational, but there you go. I want you to apologize for finding happiness without me even though that’s what I wanted for you. Because I never found it without you!”
He held his left hand in the air, brandishing it at her. “There’s no ring, Ava! No goddamn ring. And no happiness. Just the same messed-up guy you sent packing ten years ago.”
Even with the rain, he could hear her breath catch in her throat.
“You’re…divorced?”
He pressed the heels of his hands into his rain-drenched eyes. Then he looked at her. “No,” he said, his voice calmer now. “I didn’t marry her.”
She stood there, mouth hanging open, but she said nothing.
“You had your reasons for pushing me away…and I had mine for not being able to truly move on.”
“Closure,” she said quietly, but he could still hear her over the rain.
Maybe that’s what she was hoping for, too. Because none of it had felt right back then. He’d fucked up. Big-time. But he’d also known that what had happened between them was more than a fling. He’d known she was lying to him, which was why he called her every day before he left for baseball training—and at least once a week the first month he’d been gone. But she’d always sent him right to voice mail. He might have loved her, but he wasn’t an idiot, and his pride could only take so much. He’d finally let himself believe she’d stopped loving him, and that was when he’d stopped calling.
What else could he have done when she’d locked him out of her life so completely?
“I want to hear you say it,” he said finally.
“What?” she asked.
“I want to hear you say that you loved me when you made it clear that you didn’t.” He tried to tell himself that her coming to find him didn’t matter, that what she said now wouldn’t change how he felt. It couldn’t. But maybe it would heal the wound that had refused to close up for ten long years.
They were near soaked at this point, but neither seemed to care. The only thing that mattered was what she said next.
She didn’t hesitate to answer.
“I loved you, Jack. I loved you every day we were together, and I’m pretty sure I’d fall for the man you’ve become if I had the chance to.” He reached for her but stopped himself. “I love our son,” she continued, “and I’m so sorry I deprived you of the chance at that kind of love, that Owen never knew—”
Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was on hers, his hands cupping her cheeks, skin slick with rain and tears. She kissed him back, and despite the chill in the air he felt heat beneath his palms. Ten years of loss and ache and longing for something he hadn’t known still existed poured from his lips. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, and he knew whatever it was he was giving to her he received in turn.
This was Ava—Ava Ellis. He’d kissed these lips hundreds of times, yet everything about them was foreign to him now. The girl he knew didn’t exist anymore. The person he held in his arms was all woman. He slid his hands down her sides, following her curves until they rested on her hips. He might not know her like he had a decade ago, but his heart sped up just the same at the mere memory of how she used to make him feel.
&nb
sp; Hopeful.
Whole.
Loved.
She stumbled backward, but he caught her with a hand on the small of her back. His fingertips pressed firm against her soaked shirt, and he felt the heat of her skin against his. He kissed her harder, searching for the connection he knew was buried deep. Ava’s hands splayed against his chest, his heart thundering against her palm. He felt it—their past and present colliding in the clattering of teeth as her pelvis rocked against his. He was hard in an instant, yet in that same moment knew it didn’t matter. That this was wrong. All of it. No matter how right his mouth felt on hers.
He pressed his hands to her shoulders and pushed her from him, freeing himself from the momentary spell as the pieces of their chance meeting yesterday fell back into place.
The tips of her fingers brushed her kiss-swollen bottom lip, and he ignored the urge to say To hell with it and suck it between his teeth.
“I’m not welcome in your life!” he called over what was quickly becoming a downpour. “Or did you miss that exchange between me and your father?”
He knew there was more to his hesitation than that, that if this went any further he’d have to deal with the real issue. Without warning, he’d become what he’d sworn he never wanted to be—a father.
He started to back away.
“I told them you weren’t the father,” she said. “And they chose to believe it because it was easier for them—and easier for me.” She shook her head. “I was so scared if they knew—if my father knew—he’d find a way to make Deputy Wilkes change his mind—or worse.”
“Worse?” His head was swimming.
The police had questioned everyone at the party, but there’d been no arrests, not even for the alcohol. It was like the whole thing got swept under the rug, and he’d never understood why.
He’d deserved a night or two in jail, if not more. Instead they’d hauled him into the station, taken his statement, and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, sent him home.
He’d always known that once news of his home life in Oak Bluff traveled to Los Olivos, people would look at him and his brothers differently. And it had happened almost the minute they’d arrived. Kids from the other side of the tracks, so to speak. Sons of an abusive drunk with one brother, after one messed-up night, already showing signs of following in his father’s footsteps. Why the hell wouldn’t her parents suspect the same from him? Wasn’t that why he and Ava had kept their relationship a secret? Wasn’t it exactly what he’d feared himself?
“They took my statement, too,” she said. “I told them about what Derek did and agreed not to press charges against him as long as he sought treatment—and as long as no charges were pressed against you. If after all of that my father found out you were Owen’s dad? He was tight with the deputy. I wouldn’t have put it past him to try and threaten jail time to make you sign away your legal rights to your own son.”
The cops had let him off with a warning and one stipulation—that he send paperwork proving he was seeing a counselor to deal with whatever had led to him pummeling Derek that night.
“So you’re the reason I didn’t go to jail. And why I spent my entire freshman year seeing a campus psychologist.” Maybe he’d been forced to seek help, but it was help he’d needed. He’d just been too young and too damned stubborn to admit it.
He slicked his rain-soaked hair off his face. It was too much—all of it. Too damned much.
“Maybe I overstepped, but it was the only thing I could think to do for you that you might not do for yourself. I still believe my father was wrong about you then, and I’m willing to bet he’s wrong about you now. You had one bad night after years of hell that I can’t even imagine. But I never for one second thought you were a monster.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “I don’t expect anything from you that you don’t want to give, Jack. But you’re welcome in Owen’s life. If that’s what you want.”
That was the thing. All he’d ever wanted was to leave. She’d gotten that part right. If he took her up on her offer, he ran the risk of wanting to stay, and he wasn’t sure what the hell to do with that.
“Let me drive you home,” she added. “And then I’ll leave you to think about—about everything.”
She was soaked, visibly shaking, and her eyes were bloodshot from the salt of her tears. She was in no shape to drive. And him? Well, he’d been better. But he’d been steady behind the wheel on no sleep. He could be steady for the mile drive back home.
Steady. It was what Jack Everett did, and despite everything, he’d do it for Ava now.
“Give me the keys,” he said, and she didn’t even question him as she reached into some hidden pocket in her skirt and handed them over.
He nodded, and they both strode in the direction of the closest road, where she had parked on the shoulder. He unlocked the Jeep with the key fob and pulled her door open, instinctively grabbing her arm when her foot slid in the grass. Once inside himself, he started the car, turned on the heat full blast, and drove.
Neither of them spoke a word, but it didn’t matter. The past ten years filled the space between them. And even though they’d escaped the downpour, Jack couldn’t help but feel like he was drowning.
Chapter Seven
Ava stood on a rug in the front foyer of Jack Everett’s childhood home, her skirt turning it from a place to brush off your shoes to a squishy, spongy swamp.
“Wait here,” Jack said, stepping around her and disappearing toward the kitchen.
She attempted to shrug, but it felt like a shiver, so she waited. What else was she going to do?
“Who the hell are you?”
Her eyes widened as she followed the sound of the voice to the top of the stairs in front of her.
The man staring down at her wore nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. He scratched at his abdomen and then at the back of his head, his dirty-blond hair sleep tousled. His almost-beard made her do a double take, since she was sure the last time she’d seen him he hadn’t even been able to grow facial hair.
“Walker?” she asked, knowing it had to be him, since she’d already seen Jack and Luke. She was no math expert, but the odds were pretty much in her favor that either it was the youngest of the three brothers, or the Everett boys multiplied in the rain.
He narrowed his eyes and made his way down the stairs until he was standing in front of her, arms crossed. He looked her up and down as she stood there in her ever-growing puddle, and his eyes finally glinted with recognition.
“Ava-fucking-Ellis,” he said. “And here I thought Jack Senior’s passing would go unnoticed by the rest of the world. Guess it brought someone out of the woodwork. Just wasn’t thinking it would be you.”
She swallowed hard, then rubbed her hands on her arms, trying to fight against the shiver of cold and realization.
Neither Walker nor Luke had any clue what she’d kept from their brother.
Jack reappeared with a towel and what looked like clothing stacked on top of it. He offered the pile to her, though he was still drenched himself.
“There’s a bathroom off the living room, across from the kitchen. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer after you change. Can’t let you drive home like that.”
While it was a sweet gesture, his voice was flat, and she knew it was just Jack being Jack—performing his obligatory duty for someone else in need. It was what made her fall for him in the first place—the way he took care of his brothers, even in the early weeks when they’d first met and he’d been in a cast. Her insides felt like they were caving in as the memories also brought her back to their first kiss—and Jack wincing when she’d pressed her palm against his torso. She’d never forget the bruises over his ribs, a terrifying kaleidoscope of purple, blue, black, and yellow. But that had been the type of pain that would heal. What lay beneath was something she’d never truly be able to understand.
“Thanks,” she said, grateful for anything other than the cold clothes stuck to her body. She grabbed the offering
and headed toward her destination. As she did, she heard Walker mumble something about a bigger bathroom upstairs—and Jack responding with an emphatic No.
She didn’t know the full details of Jack’s last night in this house as a kid, but his father knocking him down those same stairs where she’d been reacquainted with the youngest Everett brother was all the information she needed to understand. Once inside the bathroom, with the door shut and locked behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath.
Of course he never came back—not for her. Not for anyone. And she didn’t blame him, either.
She steadied herself, swallowing back the memories, and peeled off her wet clothes. The towel provided welcome warmth, but when she pulled the gray T-shirt over her head, she startled at Jack’s scent, at the nearness of him, and her thoughts zoomed in on that rain-soaked kiss.
There’d barely been enough time for her body to react when it happened. She’d been wrapped too tight in the emotion of it all, but now something long ignored, long dormant, suddenly woke. Her nipples peaked against the thin cotton of his shirt, and she knew it had little to do with body temperature.
She’d kissed Jack Everett the boy years ago. Fallen for him. Made love to him. And though there’d been other men since, she’d never ached for their touch like she did for his now. Funny how the heart and body could reconnect, even after all this time.
I loved you every day we were together, and I’m pretty sure I’d fall for the man you’ve become if I had the chance to.
Chance or no chance, it didn’t matter. She knew it the day she’d shown him to his first class at Los Olivos High, the second he stepped out of that truck yesterday—and again when she found him at the vineyard this morning.
But there was more at stake this time around. Her future, for one. She’d put her life on hold to raise Owen, and there were no regrets there. But she was getting back on track now. All that stood between her and art school was one stupid painting that she would produce. But her son—their son—was still the most important person in her life.
