by KB Winters
She pursed her lips and I knew she was stamping down an argument, but after a moment, her expression changed and although I was fairly sure she would bring it up again later, she moved on and started giving me information about the local lawyers she knew. Hilda had lived in our small town for decades, and knew nearly everyone and everything that went on. She recounted stories of other people she knew that had hired lawyers in town for similar reasons, and gave me a few names to start with. I wrote them down on the little notepad I kept by the phone in the kitchen, and thanked her for the information.
By the time Hilda went back next door, I had stopped crying long enough for my mind to recalibrate, and somewhere along the way, locked in on the resolve that yes, I was going to fight, and I was going to win.
* * * *
A long afternoon spent on the phone with various lawyers, getting quote after quote, each of which stretched farther and farther beyond my budget, had done a number on the confidence that Hilda had done her best to instill in me only hours before, and when I finally put away the paperwork and powered down the computer for the night, I was ready to dive headfirst into a bottle of beer.
Which, is exactly what I did.
After the first one, I relaxed a little, my muscles loosened as the warmth of the alcohol hit my stomach and spread out from there. I rarely went beyond one beer, but one hadn’t quite done the trick, so I went back to the fridge and grabbed another. The house was too quiet, so after I popped the top of the second bottle, I switched on the little speaker set that hooked to my phone and cranked up some classic rock music. A couple of songs in, I was heading to the fridge for another beer, and stopped dead in my tracks as the song faded out and transitioned right into one of the songs Jace and I had heard live on our first—and only—date. The beat pulsed through me and I remembered moving to the music with Jace up on the balcony of the bar he’d taken me to. The way his blue eyes had blazed and sparkled as we’d flirted through some close dancing, pulling in just to push off of each other again.
I smiled sadly, remembering the way I’d barked at him the morning that Jax had been taken away. I’d been a devastated mess, and hadn’t really wanted him to go, regretting him leaving almost instantaneously, but I hated the idea of him giving up his whole day to stay and tend to me—especially when there was an ugly voice in the back of my mind telling me that the reason Jax wasn’t home with me was because of him. Since then, I’d been locked in my house, and had ignored all of his calls and texts. I didn’t know what to say, so I chose to stay silent.
In reality, I knew it wasn’t Jace’s fault, Mitch had been pushing for full custody since the day I’d filed for divorce, but somehow, my gut knew that my relationship with Jace—whatever it could be called—was the final piece of the puzzle that led to a judge signing an order to have Jax taken away.
The song was reaching the climax when I flicked it off, leaving an odd silence in the room. I went to the fridge, grabbed another beer, and went back to the couch. I propped my feet up on the coffee table, nudging my chicken scratch notes aside with my sock clad toes, and turned on the TV. A year ago, in an effort to cut back, I’d canceled my cable service and was left with half a dozen channels, which, at the time, had been fine because with work and school and Jax, I hardly had time to clean the house, let alone sit and watch a TV show. However, as I started my third cycle through the lineup, I was tempted to call the cable company and ask for more to be turned on. Eventually, I settled on a cheesy, made for TV movie, and let the bad acting, terrible special effects, and stilted dialog carry my overtaxed brain away.
After a couple more beers, I’d changed my tune and deemed the film Academy Award worthy and cheered for the hero at the end. Out loud. Throwing popcorn in the air as confetti.
I was so busy celebrating that I didn’t hear the knock on the door, and when I spun around and found Jace standing in the now open door, my mouth dropped open. “Hey! You caaan’t just…hey!” I shouted, stumbling over a corner of the coffee table as I started across the room. “Whatarya doin there, here?” I shook my head, trying to stop myself from stuttering, but all I ended up doing was making the room spin. I hunched over and grabbed the arm of the couch to keep upright.
“Are you drunk?” Jace asked, closing the door and coming into the living room. He placed a hand on my back to steady me and once I stopped wavering, lowered me down to the couch. I flopped down and lay my head back against the cushion, trying to will the room to stop spinning so wildly.
“Mmmm. Possibly,” I mumbled, pinching my eyes closed. I’d been so engrossed in the terrible movie that I hadn’t realized how much I’d drank, but when I opened my eyes and saw the amount of empty bottles on the table, I groaned.
Jace must have noticed too, because he immediately swept them into his arms and took them to the kitchen. I heard water running and moments later, he appeared with a huge glass of ice water. After I took it, he put out his other hand and showed me two white aspirin sitting on his palm. “Have you eaten anything? Besides popcorn?” He asked, eying the mess on the carpet and the half filled bowl on the couch beside me.
I shook my head, not trusting my words to not come out in a jumbled mess if I tried to explain.
“All right,” he said, stooping down to pick up the pieces that I’d used as confetti. He didn’t ask questions as he worked to clean and ignored all my mumbled protests for him to stop, that I’d get to it tomorrow. “Stay here, keep drinking your water. I’m gonna whip something up.”
I shot him an incredulous glance, silently questioning his culinary skills. He flashed a grin and left me alone on the couch. I shifted my attention to the next movie that had started and did my best to ignore the banging and occasional cursing that was filtering out from the kitchen. At a couple different points, I was tempted to get up and go help him, but my legs were like sandbags and I also knew that if I started for the kitchen, he’d scold me and sit me back down again. A little while later, he reappeared with a plate full of spaghetti and marina sauce with a dash of Parmesan cheese crumbles on top. “This will soak up all that alcohol and leave you feeling much better,” he insisted, setting the plate down in front of me. He presented me with a fork and sat down in the chair to the left of the couch.
“Thanks,” I said, leaning forward to take a deep breath of the steam coming off the plate. I knew it was boxed pasta and sauce from a jar, but it smelled amazing and my stomach grumbled immediately. I dug into the food, trying to ignore the fact that he was sitting there watching me eat. “Really good,” I told him after a few bites.
“How are you, Kat?” Jace asked after I set the fork down.
“Well, the room stopped spinning, so that’s an improvement,” I quipped.
Jace smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come on, you know what I mean,” he prompted.
I shrugged, my breath catching in my chest. “I can’t—uh, I’m not ready to go there, you know?”
He nodded slowly, processing my statement. The TV movie was chattering in the background and we both stared at the screen, our eyes glazed over, as we worked through our own thoughts for a few minutes. Jace leaned forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “Listen, Kat, I get that you need space, and that you have a lot going on, but I want you to know that I’m here to help, no matter what you need.”
I nodded, meeting his eyes for a split second, unable to hold his intense stare. “Thanks.”
He straightened in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just gonna drop it right on you. I know things are tight, but I don’t want you to worry. I’ll pay for your lawyer, or lawyers—whatever you need. I know some sharks out in Chicago. I can call them up and see who they’d recommend—nothing but the best.”
I snapped to attention at his offer, a new heat flooding my veins that had nothing to do with the alcohol still floating around my system. “What?” I asked, my tone sharp.
“Like I said, Kat, I just want t
o help. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I stood from the couch and grabbed the plate from the table. I stalked to the kitchen, happy that my legs were back in working order, and threw the contents in the sink. “Jace, I think you’re confused about something,” I said, once he appeared in the doorway. I spun to face him, crossing my arms tightly around myself. “We are not a team or something. Like, we fucked one time, that doesn’t mean anything. I’m a grown ass woman and I can take care of myself and my child. I don’t need your help.”
Jace’s eyes flashed and I knew my words had hit their mark. He stared at me for a moment, searching my eyes, but I threw it right back, not willing to back off. “All right, Kat. Message received.”
He turned and let himself out, and although he was gone in an instant, the sound of the front door thudding closed stayed with me for the rest of the night.
Chapter Three — Kat
Hilda came over again the next morning, this time with two bags full of groceries and a box of doughnuts from my favorite little shop. She swatted my hands away when I tried to unload the contents of the grocery bags, and insisted I sit down and eat breakfast. I sighed and sank into one of the dining room chairs and opened the box, fishing out a cinnamon twist. I moaned at the first bite. “How on earth did you keep these warm the whole way here?” I marveled before taking the second bite, letting the sugary glaze melt on my tongue.
Hilda threw me a wink. “I cheated and zapped em in the microwave a few seconds.”
I laughed and took another bite. “Thank you, Hilda. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She finished unpacking the groceries and then sat down to join me, selecting a cherry danish for herself. “Anytime, my dear. How are you feeling? Any progress with the lawyers?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I made dozens of calls yesterday but couldn’t find anyone who could make my budget work. This morning I found a place that works on a sliding scale, so I’m meeting with them tomorrow morning, but I don’t know,” my thought trailed off as I remembered the conversation. The woman I’d spoken with, sounded competent, but the idea of taking a bargain basement lawyer to face off with Mitch’s Ivy League crew sounded like the plot for an underdog sports movie. “Even if I hire them, they won’t have any real time to prep before the mediation…”
All I could do was hope it had the same triumphant, good trumps evil, kind of ending.
“Have you talked to Jax yet?” Hilda asked, polishing off her pastry with a final bite.
Tears pricked at my eyes and I quickly sniffed them away. “I called Mitch last night but he said Jax was asleep. But it was six-thirty. Jax never goes to sleep that early…”
Hilda patted my hand. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“Thanks,” I replied with a sad smile. “I just feel so defeated, and then last night, after I got off the phone…” I glanced at Hilda, wondering how much I should tell her. “Jace came over and I was a little…well… let’s just say I was a little messed up…”
Hilda didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was surprised at my choice of words. She looked at me and I noticed she suppressed a smile from the twinkle in her eyes.
“Nothing happened!” I insisted. “He made me dinner and, well, actually, I yelled at him.” I winced slightly at the memory. I didn’t regret turning down his offer, but after he’d left, I’d wished my delivery had been a little softer.
“You yelled at him?” Hilda repeated, completely bewildered. “Dear, where I come from, if a man makes you dinner, you marry him, not yell at him!”
I laughed softly. “I know, I know. He was only trying to help, but I don’t know, he just said something that bugged me and I guess I overreacted.”
Hilda nodded sagely. “That’s understandable. What did he say?”
I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to offend Hilda. “He said he wanted to pay for a lawyer,” I explained.
At my confession, Hilda sighed. She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “My dear, sweet Katherine, tell me, why won’t you let him help you? He cares about you and is doing the only thing he knows to show you.”
Her words pricked at my heart, but all I could do was shake my head. “I don’t know, Hilda.” I looked down at the table, trying to keep my composure while a hurricane of emotions ripped through me. “I guess, I just feel like I’d be some kind of charity case, to you, to him. I don’t want to be a burden. I got married so young, and, the last two years were really my first years truly on my own, and it’s not always picture perfect, but I’ve been making it work and doing everything in my power to provide a good life for me and my baby—” I stopped, swallowing a lump of emotion in my throat, unable to even say Jax’s name. In his three years, I’d never gone a day without talking to him. Even on his weekends with Mitch, I always got a phone call and got to hear his little sleepy voice say goodnight and tell me he loved me.
“I can’t speak for Jace, but to me, you’d never be a charity case, and I have a feeling he would tell you the same thing. We care about you and want you to be happy, and that is tied to having Jax around,” Hilda reassured me.
I nodded and blinked away the new tears from my eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”
Hilda considered me for a moment, and I got the sense she had more to say, but she seemed to decide against whatever it was, and handed me another donut instead.
* * * *
Somehow I managed to drag myself to work later that morning. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I needed to get out of the house, and if I was about to have legal bills in addition to all my others, I needed the money. Around three o’clock, I started getting restless and went about cleaning, and then re-cleaning, the counter and all of the appliances on the other side. The coffee pots, salt and pepper shakers, and napkin dispensers had never sparkled so brilliantly as when Patrice finally came over and took the cleaning rag from my hands and dropped it into a dirty bucket near the sink.
“Why don’t you take a break,” she suggested gently. “Get some lunch.”
I let her lead me away from the counter and sit me down at one of the tables, like I was a paying customer, and then she went off to get me a glass of lemon water. I picked up the menu, studying it even though I already had every dish listed memorized. My head jerked up at the sound of the front door bell chiming, and my heart followed at the sight of Jace’s broad shoulders filling the doorway. He swept the area with his eyes and locked in on me instantly. I shrunk back in my seat, replaying our last conversation in my mind. He offered me a small smile and to my surprise, turned and went to his normal table that was across the restaurant from where I was sitting. Patrice swooped in to take his order, and although she gave me a curious look when she dropped off my glass of water and wrote down my order, she didn’t say a word, and continued to wait on Jace as though it was normal.
I picked at my sandwich, unable to concentrate with Jace mere yards away. He was making quick work of his lunch, and a clock was ticking in the back of my mind, reminding me that if I was going to go talk to him, I needed to get my ass out of the seat and move, but as I cycled through potential opening lines, I realized I really had nothing to say to him.
He finished his meal, paid, and although he threw a quick glance my way—he left without a word to me.
Chapter Four — Jace
Seeing Kat, being that close to her without actually having a connection to her, was fucking torture. It was bad enough she was running around the inside of my mind, her parting words from the night before still stinging whenever my mind slowed down long enough to replay them.
I left the diner and went back across the street to the shop, each footfall heavier than the last, as I trudged through the door. John sprang to attention as soon as I was inside, and started snapping at people to get in place. I had two clients waiting for me. They’d been lined up for several weeks, repeaters from my days in Chicago. I did my best to plaster a smile on my face, block out the cameras, and go to work—all th
e while, tamping down the ache in my chest over the beautiful woman sitting in a booth across the street.
Filming went smoothly, the clients were relaxed and managed to pull me out of my funk long enough to get some decent footage. When they said goodbye, and I started to close down the shop, John actually complimented my attitude, before rounding up the crew and taking off.
“Two more weeks,” I said to myself as the door swung closed behind one of the sound assistants. That was all I had to push through before John would be out of my hair and the show would be wrapped. I’d have some appearances to make when the show aired, to sign autographs, take pictures with fans, and sell a crap ton of T-shirts, hats, DVDs, and whatever other shit the powers that be came up with between now and the time the show premiered.
Then what was I supposed to do? The show would likely get extended, the ratings were too strong to shut it down, but I had the option to say yes or no. My current contract was only through the second season. Did I want to continue? I’d moved away from Chicago to get out of the limelight and start over. Reboot.
A lot of good that had done me.
In the small podunk town there was nothing to do, which, at first, had been the main appeal. The pace of life was slower and there weren’t temptations on every corner, calling out to me like sirens, waiting for me to crash on the rocks so the world could watch me implode again.
After I’d first moved, and met Kat, I’d felt completely validated. I’d thought Kat and I could maybe build something real, and that maybe, there was such a thing as fate and destiny and that my move had been—I shook my head, clearing the thoughts from my mind like they were the markings on an Etch-a-Sketch. Whatever I’d thought had clearly been delusional. Kat didn’t want me, and how could I blame her? Since I’d arrived, her whole life had derailed and became about a thousand times more complicated.
