by Hope, Amity
The fury I had been containing all these months bubbled to the surface. It had nothing to do with the wine I’d consumed and everything to do with having too much time to myself. Too much time to let my mind dredge up every painful detail of a past I was trying to bury.
My stomach flipped, and not in the good way. Every cell in my body began to vibrate with pent up rage. My hand began to tremble as I recalled what Kyle had done to me. What I’d made it so easy for him to do. I slammed the glass down on the counter with a growl of frustration. I had held it all in for so long. In part because Max or Holly were always around. It helped to keep my emotions in check.
But now?
I was on the verge of having a meltdown that would put a toddler to shame. In my rage, I reached for the object closest to me. I flung my phone the same instant I heard the front door slam.
Jake—Jake?!—belatedly appeared in the arch that separated the kitchen from the entryway. He cursed as the flying object slammed into his temple. “What the—” He jumped backward but not nearly fast enough.
“Jake!” I cut off another likely string of curse words by lunging forward and catching his attention. “What are you doing here?!”
“What am I doing?!” he echoed, sounding baffled. He dropped a duffel bag. It was huge, more like a sports bag that was filled to bursting. It landed next to his feet with a soft thump. He pulled his hand away from his head. I was horrified when I saw a streak of blood. “What am I doing?!” he repeated. “What the hell are you doing?! Do you always assault people instead of saying hello?”
“I wasn’t assaulting you! I didn’t even know you were here!” I put my hands against my cheeks. They were heated with embarrassment and my fingers felt cool against them.
“So…,” he asked, “you just smash up your phone for fun?”
I swallowed as I looked at the shattered remnants of my phone. I should’ve reached for a spatula to whip across the room. Better yet, a dish rag. He flinched as I neared, as if I might pummel him with my bare hand or something? I wasn’t sure.
“No,” I said. I wanted to claim that it was an accident. But that would be absurd. One doesn’t just accidentally whip a phone across the room. “I didn’t mean to do that.” What else could I say?
“Huh, could’ve fooled me,” he said with a grimace.
“I am so sorry. Let me help you.” I hurried into the entryway and motioned for him to follow me down the hallway. I darted into the bathroom. Jake’s large frame lingered in the doorway.
I pulled open the medicine cabinet but all I could find were Holly’s Hello Kitty Band-Aids.
For crying out loud. Didn’t Max ever hurt himself? Probably not. I plucked one out of the box and peeled off the protective backside. They were better than nothing.
Jake didn’t seem to agree.
“Hell no,” he said as he ducked his head out of the way.
I shrugged. “Fine. If you’d rather just leak all over.” I said this as another trickle of blood squiggled its way past his temple. He reached for the tissue box that rested on the counter. He made a sound pretty damn close to a growl as he swiped away a thick dribble of blood.
“Fine. Put it on.”
I leaned into him and carefully applied the bandage. I knew it was a completely inappropriate time to notice his intoxicating scent. His hair was damp. I thought it was pretty safe to assume that he was fresh out of the shower. He smelled fresh, clean, kissably delicious.
Not to mention that I could feel the warmth wafting from his body. His chest was broad. It was a perfect place to place my hand.
Right, excellent place to put my hand. As I stood here and sniffed him!
I took a quick step back.
His slate gray eyes studied my face as I quickly stepped away. I gave him a sheepish smile.
He reached across me and tossed the tissue in the trash.
“You’ve got one hell of an arm.”
I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure what to say. I couldn’t decide if it was a compliment or an insult. Probably an insult if the way he was glowering at me was any indication. To be honest, I didn’t really have one hell of an arm. I had one hell of a temper.
Thankfully, I kept it in check the majority of the time.
“So,” he asked as he moved closer to the sink, “what did that phone ever do to you? Or,” he asked after a pause, “was it the person on the other end of the line you were taking your aggression out on?”
“There was no one on the other end,” I said as I stepped back. I moved as far away as I could in the small bathroom. My back pressed against the wall next to the shower to allow Jake access to the mirror over the sink.
He took another tissue, wetted it, and scrubbed at his cheek. When he was done cleaning up he turned to me.
He was frowning.
“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” I started, “but what are you doing here?”
“Max didn’t tell you?”
I shook my head.
“Wait,” he said. “I thought you were supposed to be gone.”
“I was. I decided to stay home.” I crossed my arms over my chest, silently pleading with him not to press the issue.
“That’s probably why Max didn’t mention it to you,” he said. “He thought no one would be here. My landlord is doing some remodeling.” He made a face. “Actually, he’s fixing a leak in the roof and some other structural damage. After the last storm I had so many tin cans placed around the floor that it was like walking through a maze.”
“Sounds kind of miserable.”
“Yeah. The place is a dump,” he said unhappily. “But he finally agreed to get the roof fixed. I was supposed to stay at a motel this week, probably most of next week too. Last night when we were golfing it came up. Max offered to let me stay here since no one was supposed to be home. He thought it would save me some money. Which it would.”
“Oh.” Now I was the one frowning. Jake didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would live in a dump. I wondered what the story was there. Maybe, if he stayed the week, I’d get around to asking.
Or maybe not. Asking questions led to having questions asked of you in return. Maybe I’d just have to live with my curiosity.
“Yeah. Oh.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “I cancelled my room. I could call to see if it’s still available.”
“It’s tourist season. It’s not likely,” I pointed out. Then I shook my head, feeling guilty. If anything, I was more of an intruder right now than he was. It was Max’s house. I was supposed to be gone. He’d given Jake permission to stay. “There’s plenty of room for both of us.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind? That would be great. The motel is an even bigger dump than my apartment. Like you said, it’s tourist season so they get away charging a lot for it.”
“Does your landlord cover it, since you have to move out because of the condition of your apartment?”
He scoffed. “No. However,” he said with mock solemnity, “he did agree not to charge me rent for the week or so that I’m kicked out.”
“Hm,” I said. “Very generous of him.”
He matched my sarcasm with some of his own. “Pretty much what I told him. So, uh, yeah, if you think you could put up with me for a week or more, I’d really appreciate it.”
I had expected him to argue. I was relieved that he didn’t.
“I don’t mind at all. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.” I squeezed past him into the hallway. Max and Holly’s bedroom was right across from mine. The moment I stepped inside I realized the bedroom was clean. Not just clean, but hotel room clean. Nothing personal was left lying around. Come to think of it, the whole house was unusually clean. Holly must have scrambled to make the place sparkle. I felt a pang of guilt. She’d been busy cleaning while I’d been driving around, busy doing nothing but avoiding.
Knowing Holly, she wanted the house perfect for Jake.
Never mind that Jake was obviously a guy and most definitely w
ouldn’t even care, let alone notice.
There was a piece of paper resting against the pillows of the neatly made bed.
The second note from Holly today.
Too bad I didn’t spend more time poking around in her and Max’s bedroom. I would’ve seen the note earlier.
This one was simple as well:
Jake~
The bedding is clean. Help yourself to anything.
~Holly
I handed it to him.
He skimmed it quickly.
“Awesome,” he said. “I’m gonna go grab my bag.”
Chapter 4
“What’s going on in here?” Jake asked as he took in the sight on the kitchen counter. He had just deposited his bag in the bedroom and wandered into the kitchen. My bottles of wine and glass were resting side by side…by side. Lined up like little soldiers ready to fight my emotional battle.
“Um…” I didn’t know Jake well and I wasn’t sure what the best response was. I tapped my hands against my thighs as I tried to come up with something logical. Something that sounded logical. Something that wasn’t the truth, meaning I was drinking in the middle of the afternoon. Alone.
Just because.
“Oh, damn,” he said. “Were you having a party tonight? Am I intruding?” He vaguely motioned to the entry, or the bedroom, or somewhere else in the house. I wasn’t sure. “I can…just…I can hang out in the bedroom. I brought some textbooks. Or,” he eyed the wine and he cringed just a bit, “if you want privacy, I can go to the café. I honestly didn’t mean to intrude.”
He looked so apologetic I decided to put him out of his mental misery.
I gave him my brightest—though not very genuine—smile. “The only party I’m throwing is for me, myself, and yours truly. I guess you’d call it a pity party. You crashed it.”
“A pity party?” he asked with raised eyebrows. It took a moment for that to sink in. He glanced at the spot on the counter where my dilapidated phone rested. Then the tiniest smirk danced on his lips. “Why is that?”
I reached for my glass and shrugged. I filled it to the brim with a little more chardonnay. Then I pulled out another glass and held it out to him, an open invitation. “Care to join me?”
He glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen sink.
“I know,” I said emphatically. “Do you want to join me or not?”
He smiled. My heart pitter-pattered annoyingly. Definitely his first real smile since this whole debacle began. “What the hell.” He motioned to the glass in my hand. “Fill it up.”
~*~*~
Four hours, one pizza delivery, and two and a half bottles of wine later, I felt like I was getting to know Jake fairly well. We seemed to have lost some inhibitions as we bonded, sharing sob stories about our broken, mixed up, messed up families.
“I thought you were kind of a snob when I first met you.” I scrunched up my face apologetically. “Back when I worked at the café? Girls would flirt with you all the time. You acted like you didn’t even notice. But really, some of them were pretty hard to ignore. So then,” I continued to ramble, “I thought maybe you just didn’t like girls. Because I decided you weren’t a snob. You were always really nice to the wait staff. By wait staff, I don’t just mean me. I mean you were nice to everyone. But then someone said that you’d been engaged. So I knew you did like girls…and you were not a snob…and that you just took your studying very seriously.”
He stared at me a moment. “Wow,” he finally said. “You got all of that just by bringing me coffee refills?”
I nodded somberly. “Pretty much. It got boring working at the café. Especially in the evenings when the dinner rush faded.”
He laughed. “So you entertained yourself by trying to figure me out?”
“Yes,” I said seriously, “I guess I did.”
“Why didn’t you just ask someone, like Clarissa? She would’ve told you.”
I made an offended face. “I don’t like when people nose into my business. I didn’t feel right nosing into yours.” I clapped my hand over my mouth and spoke through my fingers. “Oh. No. That’s a fib. Yesterday, after lunch, I did ask Holly about you.”
“Eh, that wasn’t nosing around. Holly’s your best friend. You were just making conversation.”
I nodded in agreement to his skewed reasoning.
“What did Holly tell you?”
“Not. A. Damn. Thing.” My lip popped out in a pout. A pout I wouldn’t have allowed to emerge if not for feeling slightly muzzy headed. I took another sip of my wine.
“What would you like to know?” He laughed before saying, “My life really isn’t that interesting.”
The wine made me feel brazen. I asked him a question I never would have dared to otherwise. “What’s with the broken engagement?”
He took a big gulp of his wine. “That question is really—”
“Personal,” I said. Even in my muzzy headed state I realized that, if somewhat belatedly. “You’re right. Forget I asked. I totally overstepped.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I was going to say ‘loaded’. I mean, it might be personal, yeah, but half the town seems to know about it so it’s hardly private.”
I looked at him patiently. Though to be honest, I may have been squinting a bit to reduce the number of Jake’s in the room from two, to one. I leaned forward and set my wine glass on the coffee table. On a coaster even. Then I leaned back to give him my full attention.
“Like I said, loaded question. I totaled my motorcycle, ended up in the hospital, lost my family—my identity—got dumped by my fiancé all in one weekend.” He let out a huff of air, as if the admission had exhausted him.
I blinked at him repeatedly, letting my mind catch up. “She dumped you that weekend? After that kind of an accident?” What kind of heartless person had he been engaged to?
He shook his head. “No. But I could see in her eyes, the moment things went to hell with…with my mom’s husband, she was done with me. She waited until I was out of the hospital before making it official.”
“I’m not following,” I admitted.
He scratched his temple. “It all started with the accident. It wasn’t even my fault. Some guy ran a stop sign. I swerved to miss him. He never even stopped. I slid into a post, tore myself up pretty good. I needed a blood transfusion. Mom was out of town, my da—” he cut himself off before saying, “Frederic was around and so were Maggie and Tanner, my little sister and brother. But they were too young to try to donate. Mom is O positive. Frederic is A positive. So, yeah,” he said on a weary sigh, “there were immediate questions raised.”
“You needed a blood transfusion?” It hit me then, how serious his accident had to have been. Maybe the bigger question in my mind should’ve been circling his paternity, but I was more concerned with his overall well-being.
He nodded. “The accident was pretty bad.” To my surprise, he reached for the edge of his shirt. Some quick maneuvering resulted in his shirt being pulled up halfway. I felt my eyelids blink, slow and heavy in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jake would show me some skin for any reason. I was expecting to see perfection…and I did. But it was marred by a scar that made me cover my mouth with my hand to seal my gasp inside. A gash ran across his abdomen, curling around his ribcage and ending on his side.
I felt tears burn behind my eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the thought of a world without Jake Thompson in it that had me feeling a bit emotional. I knew all too well how easy it was for something like that to become a reality. Life was fragile.
He tugged his shirt back down.
I had a hunch I’d seen something he didn’t show off to many people.
“Like I said, I slid into a metal post. It impaled me and tore me up. Did a number on my leg, too, but not quite this bad. So, yeah, ended up needing a blood transfusion. Turns out I have a fairly rare blood type. So not only didn’t my parents match, the hospital didn’t have any on hand. Mom ended up calling the sperm
donor before she even booked her flight back to town. He came in and donated. Luckily, I guess,” he said with a frown, “he only lives about twenty minutes away.”
“So your dad saved your life.”
He didn’t say anything but the look he gave me let me know that he didn’t like looking at it that way.
“The whole thing has ruined my life. Or at least ruined my life as I had known it. I had no idea Frederic wasn’t my dad. Apparently, he didn’t either.” He tilted his wine glass toward his mouth, realized it was empty, and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table. He also put it on a coaster. Holly would be so proud.
“Oh. I see,” I said as the pieces of this puzzle started sliding into place. His accident had uncovered a pretty monumental secret.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was a mess. Frederic pretty much went ballistic when he found out I wasn’t his.”
“He must’ve been furious with your mom,” I winced, imagining it.
“He wasn’t happy with her. But it was me he cut out of the family,” Jake admitted.
“Wait, what?” I tried to backpedal my memory. My thought process wasn’t that blurry, but surely I had missed something. “He cut you out of the family? What about your mom?” I asked indignantly. “Seems to me she was the one at fault here. You were just an innocent byproduct.”
“Things were tense with them for awhile but I have a younger sister. She’s sixteen. My younger brother, he’s only eleven. I think he kept her around for their sakes. But me? I’m not welcome anywhere near the family.”
“Huh.” I could think of nothing else to say. I was speechless.
“He wasn’t as…generous as my ex,” he said sarcastically. “He cut me off before I’d even left the hospital. He exaggerated the accident. Came up with some story about how he was sick of me being so reckless all the time, made it sound like he had a reason to disown me.” He clenched and unclenched his jaw a moment. “What he told me was that he’d wasted eighteen years supporting a bastard child. And he wasn’t going to do it anymore. The day I got out of the hospital he had a taxi waiting for me. My life was stuffed into cardboard boxes in the trunk. He’d written out a check for a thousand dollars along with a note telling me I was on my own.”