A Co-Worker's Crush

by Piper Rayne

  “I know. I said that, but you know him. He thinks he’s no good for her.”

  “I think that’s an excuse,” I say, too meanly to the woman who bore him. I’ve always tried to bite my tongue when we talk about Michael. I try to be sensitive to the fact that she’s his mother, not to mention the help she gives me with Jolie can’t be replaced.

  “I’m not sure it is, but regardless, I think we have to prepare Jolie.”

  “I think he’s already been doing that by popping in and out of her life the past year.” Ever since I left him and got my own apartment, he makes and breaks promises all the time.

  She nods and sighs.

  “Sandy, you have to stop feeling responsible.”

  “He’s my son. Of course I feel like I did something wrong for him to turn out like this. And I wish every night he could just see the light, but now with this move… it kills me to say this, but maybe it’s for the best.”

  Is she really suggesting that no dad is what’s best for Jolie? But after a few seconds, my shoulders sag because she’s right. At this point, Jolie grieves after every one of his sporadic visits. She’s hurt and sad and can’t understand why she’s not good enough for her dad. I wanted to spare her the feeling of unwantedness that I endured after my dad left us and never returned, but Sandy’s right—she’s better off without Michael.

  “Is he planning on telling me?” I ask.

  She shakes her head.

  “That means I have to go for sole custody now. I can’t allow him to leave and possibly take her God knows where. What if he finds a lawyer and a sympathetic judge somewhere and he gets custody, only to abandon her because he wasn’t clean? Jolie needs stability.”

  She nods. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

  I cross the room and hug the woman who’s growing frailer by the day. I’ve asked her to move in with us on numerous occasions, but she shoots me down every damn time.

  “Thank you… for everything,” I manage to get out past the ball of emotion clogging my throat.

  She pats my back. “You girls are my family. I’m so s—”

  I push her back by the shoulders and set my gaze on her. “Do not apologize for him.”

  She waits a moment. We both know she wants to say it. “I should go. So I’ll pick her up after preschool tomorrow, then I’m taking her to see that movie, remember?”

  “Thanks. One day I’m going to pay you back for this.”

  She laughs. “Just visit me in the old folks’ home, okay? I don’t want to be one of those sad people they wheel in front of the nurses’ station to watch everyone who comes there to see other people.”

  I laugh because she’ll never see the inside of an old folks’ home if it’s up to me. “Deal.”

  She smiles and squeezes my hand before she leaves. “You’re so strong, you amaze me.”

  I shake my head. People tell me I’m strong—but for what? Being a single mother? What choice do I have? My strength comes from not having any other option. But my life begins and ends with that little girl, and no man will ever come between that.

  “You’re strong,” I say to her.

  She laughs and opens the door. “Now lock up after I leave.”

  “Text me when you get home, okay?”

  She nods and I wait until she’s at the elevator before I shut my door and lock it. Then I watch her walk along the sidewalk and get in her car. I really hate having her leave so late at night to head home. It’s not going to work much longer.

  “Mommy?” Jolie says, walking in from the hall.

  “Hey, sweet girl.” I open up my arms and she walks into my embrace. I pick her up and she rests her head on my shoulder.

  “Daddy came,” she says.

  “I heard.”

  “Him and Grandma were yelling.”

  I kiss her forehead. I had a feeling. Although I’m fairly sure the screaming was him, not Sandy. I can’t blame her if she did yell. I’ve lost my cool with him more than once.

  “Come on, let’s go to bed.” I shut off all the lights, grab my phone out of my purse, and head down the hall.

  “Can I sleep with you tonight?” she asks.

  “Sure thing, kiddo.” I turn off her nightlight and she reaches for the polar bear.

  I sigh because part of me hates that Jax Owens has wormed his way into my daughter’s heart. Sometimes I question why he’s taken such an active role in my daughter’s life, but then it’s probably my own fault. Jolie’s at Ink Envy so much, he didn’t have much choice.

  She snuggles into my bed, and I strip down, not bothering to brush my teeth or wash my face. Some days are too exhausting. Maybe I’ll regret it when I’m fifty, but right now, I just want my head on the pillow.

  Jolie cuddles into me, and I wrap my arm around her and squeeze her tightly because I know things might get really messy once I file for custody. Michael might be leaving Cliffton Heights and the east coast altogether, but me filing paperwork for sole parental rights will infuriate him. Even though he doesn’t want us, he’s always believed that he owns us.

  The next morning, I do my research and get the name of a family lawyer a friend of a friend used to get sole custody of her children. When I call to make an appointment, I find out the lawyer had two cancelations, so I pick the appointment time that allows me to stop by after work.

  All I can think of during my shift is what’s going to happen. I imagine Michael’s reaction after the papers are served. He’s bound to confront me. Maybe I should take Jolie and hole us up in a hotel. But I try not to uproot her too much. She’s already had so many changes in her young life.

  “What do you think, Spark Plug?” Jax asks from his chair. He’s currently leaned into a chair with his boots crossed up on his station, sketching in his journal.

  “About what?” I work on my own sketch for my client who’s scheduled to arrive in about five minutes.

  Dylan walks over and squeezes my shoulder. “What’s with you today? You don’t seem all there.”

  He’s the best boss I could ever have. I know that even his friends would let Jolie and me stay at their apartments. Which makes me feel slightly better if I decide to go that route after serving Michael.

  “Nothing, just preoccupied. What did you say?” I ask, fixing the shading on my sketch.

  “Christmas?” Dylan fills me in.

  “Sure. Do you mind if I invite Sandy?”

  Jax watches me from the corner of his eye. I hate how he knows so much about my life, but I know nothing about his.

  “Jackass skipping the holidays this year?” Jax asks.

  I stiffen. “I’m not sure, but I know she’d rather be with Jolie than alone.”

  His feet drop to the floor and he tosses the journal on his table. “Of course, who wouldn’t? I gotta take a piss.”

  He disappears down the hall to the bathroom. I always find it strange how Jax can hate a person he’s never met. Michael won’t come into Ink Envy—I think he’s afraid of what my co-workers might do or say to him if he did.

  “Rian wants to have it at our place. She’s got a lot of shit to get done. So if you need a place to stay, I’m sure she’d love the extra help,” Dylan says while walking by me to the front counter. The man knows me well.

  “I’ll see. Jolie would love it.”

  Dylan chuckles, grabbing the appointment book. “So would Rian. She loves baking with Jolie, and she has certain Christmas cookies she wants to bake at the house instead of Sweet Infusion because they’re supposed to be homemade. Not sure what the location of baking has to do with it.”

  “But you’re not going to argue with her, am I right?”

  He laughs. “Hell no. What I’m saying is that you’d be saving me if you wanted to stay a few days.”

  We both know Dylan is asking because Michael might show up at my place unannounced like he usually does, and I’m not interested in ruining Jolie’s Christmas. “Thanks.”

  He nods. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
>
  He leaves and Jax returns, sighing as he sits back down. “You shouldn’t have to hide out.”

  Luckily, my client walks in before I cry and tell Jax all my problems. I have no idea how I hate him so much, but at the same time, he’s like a therapist to me. I could see him just sitting there, letting me unload it all on him.

  “Mind your own business.” I stand to greet my client. “Hey, I was just finishing up your sketch.”

  I purposely don’t look at Jax for fear I’ll crumble.

  After my shift, I get in my car, and head to the opposite side of town. The side of Cliffton Heights where the country club is—and the fancy lawyer’s office.

  I open up the door, give them my name, and sit in the waiting area. My knee bounces and I feel sick to my stomach. Maybe I should just go.

  The door of the office opens, and for a moment, I consider bolting. If Michael leaves town, what does it matter whether I have custody or not? But this has been a long time coming and I can’t allow him to treat Jolie like the Holiday Inn, so I stay seated in my chair.

  But when the person comes into the room, his presence demanding as always, my stomach sinks. What the hell is Jax doing in a family law office?

  Chapter Three

  Jax

  * * *

  When I see Frankie sitting in the office, I debate whether I should rush out. Maybe she won’t see me or know I was here. But our eyes lock and there’s no escaping this, so I might as well own my decision.

  “Frankie.” I nod at her and head over to the receptionist.

  She looks like a mom, maybe even a young grandma. I wonder if the lawyer does that on purpose, to make his clients comfortable.

  “Jax Owens,” I tell her.

  She types in my name and hands me a clipboard. “Great, you’re a little early, but he’ll be with you shortly.”

  I nod and grab a mint before sitting down next to Frankie. Might as well spend my time annoying her. It is one of my favorite pastimes after all.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks the minute I pop the mint in my mouth.

  I slide it around with my tongue. “I’m here to see about adopting a kid.”

  She doesn’t believe my bullshit, so she stares blankly, and I chuckle.

  “Why are you here?” I knock shoulders with her.

  “I asked you first.” She shuts the magazine she wasn’t really reading and puts it on the table before crossing her arms, causing the fabric of her shirt to gape across her chest.

  As horrible as it is, I want to see Frankie’s tits. They aren’t huge, but they’re shapely and she rarely wears anything that gives a glimpse of cleavage. That’s probably why I want to see them. Just mere curiosity.

  “I’m here to see if I can find my birth parents.”

  Her smirk vanishes and regret over sharing that with her eats at me. I haven’t told anyone. I’m not sure why I didn’t just lie. But why else would I be in a family lawyer’s office? I think my ability to lie has faded since returning to Cliffton Heights.

  “Oh.” Based on her tone, she clearly has an opinion on the matter.

  “Oh what?”

  “I just figured you didn’t really care about your birth parents. Like once they left you, they were dead to you.”

  I school my surprise. She either knows me too well or I’m that transparent. “You’re right. They are dead to me, but you know that keynote speaker at the testicular cancer fundraiser Dylan and Rian dragged us to?”

  She nods.

  “He said it was hereditary. So now I wanna know if I’m gonna lose a ball.”

  “Oh, so just for the medical background information?”

  “That’s what I said. If my dick is in danger, I want to know.”

  That’s not completely it. I mean, I do want to know if there’s something I should be concerned about or on the lookout for. What if I come from one of those families where no male has survived past fifty or something?

  “Do you have any information about your birth parents?” she asks.

  This might be the first real conversation I’ve ever had with Frankie. I mean, I overhear her telling Dylan stuff and I’ll input my two cents, but as far as her finding out anything about me, I’ve remained tight-lipped. “Not really. I have a birth certificate with no father’s name and most likely a fake mother’s name.”

  Her lips tip down.

  Time to steer this conversation in another direction. “Your turn.”

  “I want sole custody of Jolie. Rumor is Michael’s leaving for the west coast, and I don’t want him trying for joint custody and dragging Jolie across the country.”

  “About damn time.” I’ve always wondered why she lets her douche of an ex be involved in either of their lives.

  She nods, and I glance at her finger picking the skin away from her thumbnail.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” I assure her.

  “I know. I do. It’s just that she’s his daughter. He’s her dad.”

  “He’s a shit dad.”

  “But still her dad. Look at you. You’re trying to find your birth parents.”

  “Not for some happy reunion. Strictly for medical information.”

  She nods. “Okay, but you’re seeking them out. It goes to show that sometimes things leave gaping wounds that never get filled.”

  “Don’t typecast me as some wounded foster kid. I made peace with my upbringing a long time ago.” There’s bitterness in my tone that contradicts my words.

  Frankie’s not a moron. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a foster kid who got over it completely. Although Dylan’s doing a bang-up job with Rian at the moment.

  “I’m not,” Frankie says. “I’m just saying, no matter the person he is, he’s still her father. And he’s never touched her.”

  “Yeah, but how long before he does? The first time she talks back to him?” I clench my fists, thinking about him raising his hands at Jolie.

  “I’m not sure he ever would, but you’re probably right.”

  “Don’t forget it. Did he show any interest in his daughter when you two were together?” I’m prying and I should probably stop. Frankie’s home life is more normal than abnormal to me because the only person I’ve ever known—before moving here—who had both parents who loved them was Knox.

  “Not really. He’s never been the best dad.”

  “Frankie, let’s take off the rose-colored sunglasses for a moment. He used to hurt you. He used to hit you.” I grit my teeth when I think about someone taking their hands to her.

  She squeezes her eyes shut and nods. I don’t like that I’m causing her pain, but she needs to hear the truth.

  “Maybe not now, but one day he’s going to do that to her.”

  “Frankie Grant,” the receptionist calls from an ajar door across the way.

  “Do you want me to go in with you?” I ask.

  She rises from the chair and clutches one hand in the other. “No, I’ve got this.”

  I sit back in the chair and pick up a magazine. That’s the thing about Frankie—she doesn’t think she needs anyone, but one day she’s going to find out how badly she does.

  Frankie comes out from her appointment and heads to the reception desk to make her next one while I get called in.

  “Hey, wait for me?” I ask her. She’s finished work, and she was talking earlier about Sandy taking Jolie to the movies, so I know she has time.

  “Why?”

  The assistant’s eyes peer up from her computer at me.

  “Just wait.”

  “What gives?” Frankie asks.

  We don’t have a friendly relationship. I’m pretty sure she hates me. But I have to think that what she’s doing is hard and what I’m about to is as well. Maybe she could use someone to listen.

  “Just a cup of coffee.”

  She sighs. “I’d rather take a shot.”

  “Deal.”

  I don’t wait for her to argue further, walking through the door and following the woman w
ho called my name. She knocks and opens the door, introducing me to Mr. Holder.

  He holds out his hand over his desk and I shake it. The assistant closes the door when she leaves. I notice the box of Kleenex on the desk and the trash can filled with used tissues.

  “What brings you in, Mr. Owens?”

  “Jax, please,” I say.

  He nods and waits with his fingers weaved together over the desk.

  “I was put into foster care and I’d like to find my birth parents.”

  He nods. “Okay. What kind of information do you have?” I hand over my birth certificate, and he glances at it. “No father’s name, but you do have the name of your mother.” I nod and he sets down the paperwork. “I have a partner who investigates these cases. I’m not sure what he’ll find out, but we can try. May I ask what you’re looking for by reuniting with them?”

  I lean back in the chair and rest my ankle on my knee. “Oh, I don’t want a reunion. I just want the health information. I don’t want to meet either of them if you happen to find them.”

  He leans back in his big fancy chair. “Okay. Well, that might be easier, but I want to warn you, this is opening Pandora’s Box. You might not want to reunite, but I’ve seen it where the party who didn’t initiate the search does. Are you prepared for that?”

  I lean forward, my foot falling to the floor. “If I hire you, you’re my lawyer, right? You can’t give out information about me.”

  “Yes, but oftentimes they find you once that door is opened.”

  “Let’s just make this clear. I don’t want either of them to know one thing about me. I just want my family medical history. That’s it.”

  He picks up my birth certificate. “Let me see where we get with this and I’ll be in touch. Unless you want a second opinion?”

  “No, I heard you were the best?” I say it like a question.

  He nods. “You heard right.”

  His confirmation solidifies that I hired the right guy. You have to be an arrogant fucker to be a lawyer. “Then what do I owe for your retainer?”