Dawson Family Boxset (Books 1-3)

by Emily Goodwin

  Today is Daisy’s birthday. It wouldn’t have crossed my mind if Mom hadn’t texted me. I respond back to her, telling her I hadn’t even realized what day it is and yes, I’m fine. I put the phone down again, thinking that it’s time to move on from this and file the paperwork after all.

  7

  Scarlet

  Come on, get it together. I inhale and open the fridge, trying to find something to make for dinner. My first day as Jackson’s nanny is almost over, and it did not go as planned at all.

  Today wasn’t miserable. Time didn’t crawl, and I didn’t want to claw my eyes out or drown myself in a bottle of wine. Instead—dare I say it—I had fun. I didn’t expect to like Jackson. I hoped to mildly tolerate him while I formulated a plan on how to con his dad out of a large sum of money, but events unfolded differently.

  Jackson isn’t a spoiled and entitled brat. I can tell teaching Jackson manners is important to Wes, and even though he comes off as a mean old grump, I sense he’s a gentleman at heart. After only a day, the kid is growing on me, and I need to press pause—if not rewind—on this whole situation and go back to not giving a shit.

  But, dammit, I can’t.

  “Do you want help making dinner?” Jackson asks, little feet slapping against the hardwood floor behind me.

  “Uh, sure. What do you want?”

  “Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese and pickles and maybe a cupcake for dessert.”

  I laugh. “Well, we can do the mac and cheese for sure.” I grab butter and milk, setting them out the counter. “Pickles too,” I add when I see the jar. I preheat the oven, glad there’s a bag of dinosaur-shaped nuggets in the freezer.

  It’s not exactly a home-cooked meal, but the kid’s not going hungry tonight. That has to count for something, right?

  As the food is cooking, Jackson asks me to sit down and color with him. I bring a coloring book and a big box of crayons to the table.

  “I’m going to draw a picture for Daddy,” he tells me. “And one for you.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” I carefully tear out the pages he wants and take one for myself, absentmindedly coloring Mickey Mouse in different shades of pink.

  “Are you from Chicago?” he asks.

  “I am.”

  “Aunt Winnie lived there. I went there before. We took a train!”

  “I used to take the train a lot. It’s pretty cool.” Cool if you like the smell of piss and dealing with the assholes that always seem to be on the same route I am.

  “It wasn’t like Thomas the Train.”

  “No, I guess it’s not.” I trade my light pink crayon for a darker one.

  “Actually, I’m going to give this picture to Emma.”

  “Who’s Emma? A friend?”

  Jackson shakes his head, and hair falls into his eyes. He looks so much like his father.

  “My cousin. She’s a baby.”

  A baby cousin? Must be Quinn’s. I just smile and nod, not wanting to know any more about the Dawson family. Don’t know, don’t care. Once I get enough money to take care of Dad, I’ll be out of here and won’t give them a second thought.

  “Emma and Uncle Archer have the same birthday.”

  “Mh-hm.” I need to tune this out.

  “And Uncle Archer cuts people open. For his job!”

  “Wow, that is cool. He’s a surgeon, right?” Dammit. I already know too much.

  “Right. And he really cuts people open!” Jackson says slowly, eyes wide. “He saved me from the pool once. I almost died.”

  I stop coloring and look at Jackson. “You almost died?”

  He nods and puts on a terrified look. It’s fake, but he knows he’s supposed to be upset when he talks about this. Smart kid. “I fell in and water got inside my breathing. I had to go to the hos-able!”

  It takes me a second to realize ‘hos-able’ is hospital. “That’s scary. I’m glad you’re okay now or else I wouldn’t get to play with you all day.”

  He nods and starts coloring again. “Daddy was scared. I think he cried. Don’t tell him I said that. Daddy doesn’t cry. Not even when Mommy left.”

  “Your mommy left?”

  Abort. Abort. Stop asking questions. The less personal info you have about Wes, the better.

  “Daddy doesn’t know where she is.”

  “Oh, um…” I have no idea what to say to that. I’m no good at this.

  “She didn’t love me enough to stay here.” A line of worry forms between Jackson’s eyes, and I hurt for him. I put my arm around his shoulders.

  “That’s not true. She must have just, uh…uh…had something else to do.” It’s a good thing I’m not posing as a counselor. The gig would be up on that one within minutes. “I’m sure she loves you in her own way.”

  “I don’t know what she looks like. Maybe she’s pretty like you.”

  “If she’s lucky.” I give him a wink.

  He goes back to coloring, telling me about something that happened on an episode of PAW Patrol. I wrestle with my mind and my mind ends up winning. So Jackson’s mother left him when he was little, too little to remember her. Why? And how?

  It. Doesn’t. Matter.

  Water boils over from the pot on the stove, hissing as it reaches the burner beneath. I jump up and turn the heat off, hoping I didn’t ruin something as simple as boxed macaroni and cheese. Jackson keeps coloring as I drain the water, testing a noodle. It’s a little overdone but isn’t terrible.

  I make the mac and cheese, cover it, and take the nuggets out of the oven. Weston should be back from work soon and I suppose we can all eat together. My phone rings, and I know it’s my sister right away.

  “Hello?” I answer, waiting for the automated voice asking if I’ll accept a call from an inmate.

  “Hey, sis,” Heather rushes out. “You didn’t come visit me today, what gives?”

  “I started a new job.” Looking at Jackson, I step out of the kitchen. “I probably won’t be able to come for a while, actually. I’m in rural Indiana.”

  “What the fuck are you—sorry, I won’t swear anymore,” she says to a guard. “What are you doing there?”

  “I’m a nanny again.”

  A few seconds of silence pass and I can only imagine Heather’s stunned face. “Why?”

  “I need money.”

  “But I had a job for you.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I spit out, blood pressure rising. “No fucking way.”

  “But you’ve been all flirty with that C.O. He has it bad for you. Asks about you all the time.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’ll bring—just no. I keep him favorable in case you need an extra snack or if I ask him to look the other way if—no when—you do something stupid. Like this. But I can’t flirt my way into or out of this.”

  “You underestimate the power of your pussy.”

  “Heather,” I start, pinching the bridge of my nose. She sounds manic, and she just went through a cycle a few weeks ago. “Are you taking your meds?”

  “Yes! Jesus, Scar, stop trying to be my mother and be my sister for once, why don’tcha?”

  “Trust me, I’d love nothing more.” Unfortunately, I’ve been a mother to her since the day she was born. “I just…I just want you to get through your time and get out of there. No more talking with shady people who promise you protection in exchange for business, okay?” I step out of the kitchen and out of earshot. “Just keep your head down and behave.”

  She grumbles something but doesn’t push the issue, mostly because she can’t. Not over the phone. But even still, I’m not bringing drugs into a prison. I’m no Mother Teresa, but even I have my limits.

  “So, is this nannying gig going to turn out like the last one?” she asks.

  “If I’m lucky.”

  “You are lucky, Scarlet. You’re beautiful, and the world loves beautiful people.”

  “It’s more than that.” I sink down on the first step, feeling the threads I keep tightly wrapped around myself start to loosen. I t
ighten the threads back up until I can hardly breathe.

  Not today, Satan.

  “I have to go,” I tell her. “Call me the next time you can, okay? And please, Heather, just keep to yourself.”

  “That’s not how it works in here, sis. You gotta find a crew or you’ll get eaten alive.”

  “You’re in minimum security, Heath, is it really that bad?”

  “You have no idea,” she says in a voice so icy it sends a chill through me. “Love you, Scarbutt.”

  “Love you too, bitch.”

  I end the call and close my eyes. She’s in minimum security now, but I have a sinking feeling it’s only a matter of time before she’s sent to max. Dad’s dying. My sister is in prison. Jason is overseas.

  I’m so alone and I just want my family back…though deep down I know I never really had one in the first place.

  8

  Weston

  “Daddy!”

  Jackson comes running, throwing his arms around me. Coming home to my son is the best part of my day. I never realize how much I miss this kid until his skinny little arms are wrapped around my neck. Scooping him up with one hand, I stand, pretending to drop him.

  Jackson lets out a dramatic yell and then laughs hysterically. I do it again and get the same reaction.

  “We made dinner!” he tells me excitedly, taking my hand as soon as his feet hit the floor. “Come eat!”

  “Give me one minute, and I’ll join you.”

  “It’s just nuggets and mac and cheese,” Scarlet says almost apologetically. She’s still wearing the denim shorts she had on earlier but has added a button-up flannel shirt over her tank top. Her blonde hair is in a messy braid, with loose strands hanging around her face. Even a blind man would notice how gorgeous she is.

  “Some of our favorites,” I say and take off my shoes. I’m still in uniform with my gun strapped to my utility belt around my waist. I go upstairs to lock it up and change into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

  Scarlet is bringing plates to the table and does a double take when she sees me. I can’t get a good read on her, and I don’t get why everyday things seem surprising to her. Maybe it’s a sign this isn’t going to work out and I should let her go after the weekend is over, saying we’re just not a good match.

  Though that would be one hell of a lie. There are plenty of things I’d like to do with Scarlet where I think we’d be a match made in heaven.

  “How was your day, buddy?” I ask Jackson, tearing my eyes away from Scarlet as she sets the final plate down on the table. Her shorts are tight in all the right places, and it’s a battle of willpower not to steal another glance at her fine ass.

  “It was so fun!” He puts his chicken nugget back down on his plate and bounces with excitement. “First, we played dinosaurs. Then, Scarlet chased me around like a zombie!”

  “Sounds like you had a pretty fun day.” I smile, heart warming at the sight of his happy face.

  “It was more fun than when I spend the day with Grammy, but don’t tell her that.” Jackson hunches his shoulders in as he speaks, making both Scarlet and me laugh.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Scarlet promises.

  Jackson takes one small bite of his food before starting up again, going through every single detail of the day. It sounds like he really did have fun, and it’s nice knowing he was up and active and not stuck in front of a screen all day. Not that Mom gives him her phone with YouTube videos all the time or anything, but sometimes she has work to do and that’s the only way to get shit done.

  “Are we going to Grammy and Papa’s this weekend?” Jackson asks.

  “Yep,” I reply and then flick my eyes to Scarlet. “We go to my parents’ house for dinner almost every Sunday.”

  “That’s nice.” She pushes her mac and cheese around on her plate before taking a bite.

  “Can Scarlet come too?” Jackson asks, eyes full of hope.

  “Uh,” I start, not knowing what to say. Scarlet lives with us—for now—but she’s not part of the family. She has no obligation to do anything other than take care of Jackson, and Sunday is technically her day off. “If she wants to, she’s welcome to come.”

  “Yay! Did you hear what my daddy said? You can come!”

  “If she wants to,” I stress.

  “Please!” Jackson begs her. “Please oh please say yes!”

  Scarlet laughs. “How can I say no to that face?”

  Jackson gets so excited he jumps out of his chair and runs around the table to give Scarlet a hug.

  “Eat,” I gently remind him. “We have to go over letters and then get a bath in.”

  “We already did letters,” he says, giving me a know-it-all look.

  “Excuse me?” I raise my eyebrows.

  With a dramatic sigh that he learned from Dean no doubt, he points to Scarlet. “We already did letters, Dad.”

  “He showed me his workbook and asked if we could do a page. He got lowercase ‘b’ and ‘d’ mixed up a few times but other than that, he did a good job.”

  I’m not sure how to feel about this. Can this woman teach Jackson as well as I can? It’s not like I’m an overqualified child educator, but he’s my son.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Can we go to the park then?” Jackson asks.

  “Yeah, we’ll have time before bed now.”

  “Yay!” Jackson drops his fork and starts clapping. I shift my gaze from him to Scarlet, taking in the slight smile pulling up her full lips. “Will you come too, Scarlet?” he asks.

  “Of course!” She beams at him, and he jabbers away about his favorite things to do at the park the rest of dinner. I take Jackson upstairs to change into something a little warmer. The evening air takes on a chill once the sun goes down.

  The park is two blocks away, and Jackson usually rides his bike while I walk behind. He still needs training wheels and struggles a bit when the sidewalk is uneven.

  Scarlet changed into black leggings and a long-sleeve T-shirt and is walking in step next to me. I turn my head, unable to help but notice the way her breasts bounce with each step even though she’s wearing a bra.

  “You don’t have to go to dinner with my family on Sunday,” I start. “Don’t feel pressured by Jackson. He’ll get over it.”

  She gives me a pleasant smile. “I don’t mind, really. I have nothing else to do. But if you don’t want me there—”

  “No, that’s not it,” I say quickly. Why do I care about offending her? I shouldn’t.

  I don’t.

  “They’re a bit overbearing,” I warn. “And there’s a lot of them.”

  “Jackson was talking about an Uncle Archer.”

  I nod. “That’s Quinn’s fiancé. She’s the youngest of my siblings, and has a baby. Then there’s Logan and Owen—they’re identical twins–and then Dean and his wife, Kara.”

  “Four siblings and two more by marriage?” She laughs. “I can hardly handle the two I have.”

  “It’s a lot, but I like it,” I admit. “It’s always loud and crazy, but that’s the way it’s always been.”

  “You must be close to Quinn.”

  “We’re all pretty close.” We stop at the edge of the street and after making sure Jackson remembers the concept of looking both ways, we cross and make it down half the block before either of us speak.

  “So,” she starts, voice soft. She pushes a loose strand of hair from her face and turns to me, blue eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight. “Jackson mentioned his mother. He didn’t go into detail, but I don’t know how you want me handling the situation. He seemed a little upset.”

  Well, shit. I didn’t think this fun piece of conversation would come up already. Out of the mouth of babes…

  “We don’t talk about her.” I set my gaze forward, watching Jackson peddle his little heart out. Indiana is relatively flat all around, but there’s a slight incline on the way to the park that he sometimes needs help with.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll jus
t try to change the subject.”

  I let out a sigh, knowing that sooner or later, this is going to all come out, and I’d rather have Scarlet hear it from me than anyone else.

  “Jackson’s mother left a few weeks after he was born. She came back once, stayed a few days, and that’s the last time I’ve seen or heard anything from her. When Jackson asks, I tell him Daisy had other things to do.” I shrug. “It’s not the best response, but nothing is a good response in that situation.”

  “I’m sorry,” Scarlet says, and I brush off her words. I don’t want pity. I get along just fine and raising my son on my own for the last four years allowed us to bond in a way we couldn’t if Daisy was still in the picture.

  “Slow down,” I call out to Jackson, who spotted one of his friends at the park. We have one more street to cross. Picking up the pace, I catch up to him before he zooms across the street. We wait for a pickup to go by, and then he rides as fast as he can to the playground, dumping his bike to the ground and pulling at his helmet strap as he runs to the swing set.

  I wave to Mrs. Hills, the mother of Jackson’s friend, and motion to a park bench. Scarlet follows, eyes wide as she takes it all in.

  “What part of Chicago are you from?” I ask.

  “The South Side.” She gives me a lopsided smile. “Yes, the ghetto.”

  Nodding, I decide that’s enough information to share for one night. She’s my employee, after all. The wind picks up, blowing in the scent of rain. Scarlet shivers and pulls her arms in around herself. The faint outline of her nipples becomes visible through her shirt, and I take off my jacket to give to her.

  “Thanks.” She slips her arms inside the sleeves, thinking I’m being chivalrous. Really, I’m helping out my dick.

  “Dad! Scarlet!” Jackson yells from the top of a slide. “Come watch me go down the slide. It’s super fast!”