by A. J. Pine
No more secrets, she’d told him when he’d said he wanted to tell Owen the truth. And he had nodded. He was a man of few words. A nod from Jack Everett was worth a hundred yesses from anyone else.
But here was his final secret. Jack was selling the vineyard.
She’d seen him out there, though. Working with his brothers. He’d enjoyed himself—enjoyed them. Hell, he’d gone and told her that she and Owen were the best parts of his life, but now she felt like a loose end. One that would be tied up along with the contract to the vineyard.
Damn him for letting her hope. She’d been all ready to create her own new beginning before he’d forced her straight off the road—and what she thought was her new path in life. Now she was right where she’d been ten years ago—head over heels for a guy about to leave her.
When she made it back to the deck with her easel and supplies, he was already out there, reclining on the chair where he’d almost driven her to orgasm with his hands. Except now Scully was next to him, sitting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging as Jack scratched behind his ears. He smiled when he saw her, and she forced herself to do the same as she set up and prepared to paint.
“So you know how I applied to Cal Poly?” she asked with forced nonchalance.
“Yeah…” he said, drawing out the word.
She opened and squeezed tubes of paint onto the small pallet, dipping her brush into the inky black. “Well, I’m still missing one small part of my application.”
“What part?”
She forced a laugh. “A piece of art. Meaningful art. There’s an essay component and everything to prove the piece’s depth. It’s not like I haven’t painted anything, but it’s been silly stuff like a bowl of fruit…or Scully catching a Frisbee. Nothing worthy of an essay.” Oh, she could write plenty now about that portrait of a boy playing catch with his dad, but it might break her in two now that she was sure he was leaving.
He swallowed. “And classes start in August, right?”
“If I bring them a piece next week and they approve my application, I start my art degree in the fall session, right in San Luis Obispo like I was supposed to ten years ago.”
He sat silent, still petting the dog, for several long beats. Perhaps he was crafting the perfect response. Maybe a way to tell her that he was selling the place they’d all worked so hard to restore. A way to let her down easy after she’d sworn she wouldn’t let his short return distract her from what was important—a real future for her and Owen, whether Jack was part of it or not. And knowing that he was getting rid of the vineyard? She was almost positive that meant not.
Finally, his eyes met hers.
“I think that’s great,” he said. “You put your life on hold, not that it wasn’t for a good reason, but I’m happy you’re doing something for yourself now.”
She dropped the paintbrush onto the easel’s tray and crossed her arms.
“Are you selling the vineyard?”
His expression barely even changed. There was a hint of shock as his eyes widened a bit, but just as quickly he composed himself. Mr. Control.
“Maybe,” he said simply.
“Maybe?” She dropped her hands to her sides, balling them into fists. “I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for you because I knew we were moving in different directions. But being here with you—with Owen and you together—made me think we were moving toward something real. What was this whole week? If the big thing that was holding you back was this deep-seeded fear of what kind of father you’d be, how have you not realized by now what I’ve always known—that you are a good man, Jack Everett? And good men make good fathers. But I’m part of that equation, too. It’s more than Owen who deserves honesty. I do, too.”
He swung his feet off the chair and planted them on the ground. Then he ran a hand through hair that still looked freshly fucked. Except now she felt fucked in a whole different way.
“I’m not keeping anything from you, Ava. But I didn’t think there was a point in telling you until I’d made a decision. It’s not like we’re—”
Her eyes widened.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve spent the past ten years living on no one else’s terms but my own. This?” He stood and motioned between them. “My decisions affecting someone else? That’s brand-fucking-new.”
She huffed out a breath. “I know. But…but how can we do what we just did? How can you say what you said about us being the best parts of your life while you’re planning on selling off one of the biggest reasons for you to stay?” She was pushing him now. Damn it. She’d sworn she wouldn’t. But she’d messed up with him more than once by saying nothing. This time she had to lay it all out on the table.
“What happened to you giving me the choice I didn’t have a decade ago?”
He didn’t mean it like that. She knew he didn’t, but the words still stung. She hadn’t given him a choice before, and now she was pushing him to make the one she wanted. Well, she guessed there was no going back now.
“What would happen if I asked you to stay and build a life with us here?” she asked.
“What would happen if I asked you and Owen to come to New York with me?”
Her mouth opened and then closed.
“You don’t want to give up your life,” he said. “And I wouldn’t ask you to.”
She threw her hands in the air. “But my life makes me happy, Jack. I have Owen, the vineyard. I’m going back to school. I have everything I want—except you.”
He stepped toward her, and she took a step back. If he kissed her, she’d let her physical need take over, and she needed a clear head now.
“Ava—you and Owen make me happy. I want to be the dad he deserves, and maybe if we all start fresh…”
His voice was so gentle, so earnest, that it broke her heart even though he hadn’t left yet.
“My life is here. Tell me that New York is going to make you happier than what I’ve seen these past two weeks with you and your brothers.”
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness this week—and how you and Owen have shown me that maybe it is a possibility for me. But every time I think of giving up this partnership, I think about how selfish that decision would be. New York means that Luke and Walker won’t go bankrupt if the ranch falls out of the black. New York means that you and Owen will never want for anything.”
She groaned, her hands fisted at her sides. “Owen doesn’t need money. He needs a father. And I need someone who’s going to put us first and not take the easy way out. If New York is truly what you want, then go. But if it’s another escape—”
“You say I’m not my father,” he interrupted, “but how do you know that I’m good enough for him or you? Everything your father is afraid of could be true. I didn’t know I was capable of what I did to Derek until I did it. And when I saw a bruise tonight on Jenna’s wrist?” His chest was heaving. “She swore to me that whatever was going on with that damn egg guy was over, but hell, Ava. If you knew the scenario that played out in my head when I thought about someone laying a hand on her…Maybe I’m protecting you like your father is.”
Her breath hitched and she started to form the words, but was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of tires rolling over gravel in the front of the house, followed by the loud hoots and hollers coming from Jenna’s apparently open windows.
Scully sprang to his feet and started running in circles in front of the sliding door.
Jack held her gaze for a few seconds more, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“What does it matter if I believe in you if you don’t believe in yourself?” She shook her head. “You keep choosing the past,” she said. “And I’m standing right here offering to be your future.” She stroked his cheek. “Owen only has a few months left of school. We’ll plan a trip to New York this summer so you can see him. I’ll make a long-distance relationship between you and him work, but I’m not up for it in te
rms of us.” She’d end this before her heart broke again because it was the only chance at reclaiming her life.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist, and she felt his jaw pulse beneath her palm. But he said nothing.
She forced a smile. “Maybe you should go make sure Luke survived the night without a trip to the ER.”
Then she pulled free of his hold, opened the door, and followed the dog inside.
Chapter Twenty-One
The whole lot of them—well, everyone but Jenna, who’d gone home last night—sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast as Owen recounted his night at the rodeo.
“Jack, did you know that Luke can ride a horse while he hangs upside down on its side? And that he can stand on two horses at once…while they’re moving?” Owen shoved a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.
“It’s called Roman riding, Shortstop, and your buddy Jack has actually never seen me do it.”
Ava’s eyes darted to Jack’s, but he had already hidden his expression behind a coffee mug as he took a slow sip.
“Never?” Owen said. “But, like, he won two hundred dollars last night. That’s how good he is!”
Luke shrugged. “But not the belt.” He winked at Owen. “I’m good, but I wanna be the best.”
Jack set his mug down and looked from Luke to Walker. He hadn’t just missed the first nine years of Owen’s life. He’d missed much of his brothers’ lives, too. Now he was traveling across the country to miss the rest of it, and it all felt—wrong.
What if he stayed? He could practice law here as well as he could there. Would Luke and Walker really want that after all that he’d missed? Could Ava forgive him for letting logic make his choices when he should maybe start listening to his goddamn heart?
“Jack!” Owen said after swallowing his food. “You have to come next time. And Mom, too. You could do a date at the rodeo, right?”
Ava was the one to look away this time. He hated this tension between them, especially after last night. Damn it, nothing had ever shaken him to his core—utterly changing how he looked at his life, his future, the possibilities—like the way he felt when he was inside her.
He should have told her about selling the vineyard. But she terrified him. Because up until last night he’d convinced himself that what was brewing between them was nothing more than residual chemistry from when they were eighteen. That he could live without it like he had for the past ten years. But Ava wasn’t the girl he remembered. She was a strong woman now, someone who’d put her own future on hold to raise an amazing kid. She was beautiful, and sexy, and full of so much passion that she couldn’t keep it bottled up if she tried. It made him wonder if what he’d been doing since he left had really been living at all.
“So are we gonna watch some baseball or what?” Walker asked, pushing his chair from the table.
He had been sober last night when they’d returned home from the rodeo, Walker carrying a sleeping Owen in his arms. And this morning proved the same. Ava and Owen’s presence seemed to be affecting all of them for the better. So why couldn’t he pull the goddamn trigger and decide to stay?
“Are all of you really coming?” Owen asked. “That’s so awesome,” he said, not waiting for an answer. “Walker, can you show my friends the pictures you took of Luke on your phone? I’m gonna learn how to trick ride someday. You’ll teach me, right?”
His eyes shifted from Walker to Luke. Ava coughed on her sip of coffee, and Jack just watched everything play out before him.
“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know, Shortstop,” Luke said.
“If you ever take a breath and stop talking,” Walker added, but he winked at the kid.
Was this what it would be like if he gave up a future in New York for a life he hadn’t realized he’d ever want? Family breakfasts, Walker sober, and Luke teaching his son how to ride?
Every puzzle piece fit—except for Ava’s trust in him not having any more secrets—and his trust in himself that he and his father shared nothing more than a name.
Ava, silent through it all, finally looked at her phone and spoke. “We should go,” she said. “I need to drop Scully at home before we head to the field. We’ll meet you all there.”
At the sound of his name, Scully sprang up and started spinning in circles, and whatever invisible thread had held them all together in that makeshift family moment snapped.
Everyone was up and moving. Jack piled cereal bowls and coffee mugs into the sink, knowing he’d be the one to take care of them later. Because that’s what he did. He took care of things so others wouldn’t have to.
He’d sent money to his brothers when he’d finally started earning more than he needed to live on. He’d only allowed himself the barest of necessities. He didn’t need any more, and he certainly never let himself want. That was his penance for leaving.
Because he’d wanted to leave. That was his one luxury. Ava was right. He’d escaped the life that had tried to break him, taking care of his brothers from a distance instead. It was the only way he knew how to show them what they meant to him without having to be in a place where he’d lost all of his good memories.
But look at what they’d done in only a couple of weeks. They’d created new ones, and with one tiny omission about the vineyard, he’d possibly destroyed that.
They deserved more. Ava and Owen deserved more.
The screen door banged shut a few times as people—and a dog—exited. An engine revved in the driveway, and he guessed it was Luke starting up the truck. But Jack remained in the kitchen—separate, where he was safe. He might have been ten years older, but it seemed not much had changed. Even after a couple of weeks in this house, he still couldn’t let the past go.
“You coming?”
He turned from the sink to see Ava lingering in the hallway leading to the front door.
“Yeah. Why would you—?” Damn. “Did you think after how we ended things last night that I was just going to cut my losses? I messed up by not telling you about the vineyard, but I’m in over my head here. I don’t know how to be the guy you think you see in me, Ava. I’ve spent ten years convincing myself that everyone was better off if I kept them at arm’s length. I don’t know how to see myself any other way.”
She shrugged. “And I don’t know how to want anything less than the world for Owen.” She forced a smile. “And for myself.”
He watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. Then he remembered Walker begging Jack to hit him. As much as Ava and Owen seemed to bring out the best in everyone around them, his presence had upset the balance of so many lives. The thought of hurting his son, though? It tore at something deep inside him, making it hard to breathe.
“You don’t want to tell him,” Jack said. It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head. “That’s no longer the issue. You are his father. You have as much right to his life as I do. I’m just asking you to be sure about one thing—that no matter where you are, you’ll be an active presence in his life and not simply a signature on a check.” She let out a shaky breath. “I have no right to put this kind of pressure on you when I’m the one who created this situation, but he has fantasized about you his whole life.”
“And you don’t think I’ll live up to the fantasy,” he interrupted.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. “Actually,” she said, “you’ll probably surpass it, which will make it that much harder when you leave.”
She blew out a breath and plastered on a smile. The mask she wore for her son. How often did she have to do that? And how much of that was because of him?
“Time to go. Don’t want to be late for warm-ups with the team. I’ll see you and your brothers there. Is Jenna coming?”
“She texted,” Jack said. “She said she had something to take care of but that she’d be there before the game ended.” He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “Not then. And not now.”
> “I know,” she said. “We kind of messed it up together, though. Didn’t we?”
He strode toward her, stopping when he was close enough to hear her breathe. He skimmed his fingers through her hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing another tear to fall.
He kissed her wet lashes. Then his lips found hers, and she melted into his touch. Were ten years too much to repair when having her this close made everything else fade away?
“Why is this so easy for us?” she asked when they paused to catch their breath. “But everything else is so hard?”
He kissed her forehead and then pulled her close, and she buried her face in his chest.
“Because I have a messed-up past that won’t seem to let go,” he said softly. “And there’s no way in hell I’m letting that get in the way of your future.”
She pulled back and cupped his face in her palms. “You can let go, Jack. You are stronger than anything he ever did to you.”
She didn’t let him respond. She simply kissed him as if it was the last time she ever would. And he let her. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she parted her lips and invited him inside. He savored the taste of her, her scent, the feel of her skin against his. He held her tight, afraid to let go because this couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be good-bye.
She pulled away first, and his gaze never faltered as he watched her walk down the hallway and then out the door. He turned to grab his Dodgers cap from the counter and noticed her easel still standing outside on the deck.
He ran to the door to catch her, but she, Owen, and Scully were already pulling out of the driveway and onto the main road.
“What’s the holdup, asshole?” Walker called out from where he stood, his back leaning against Jack’s truck.
“I’ll be right there,” he said. And he jogged back toward the sliding glass door to grab Ava’s canvas from the deck.
He stopped short once he was out there, eyes transfixed on what he’d thought would be the unfinished painting she’d abandoned during their argument last night. But she must have come back outside after getting Owen to bed because what stood before him was a replica of the sky under which they’d made love last night. This painting would get her into Cal Poly in a heartbeat. But she’d have taken it if that’s what she wanted.
