by Jaci Burton
“Should I bring something, like a salad or salsa or a dessert? I can whip something up.”
Kal shook his head while not taking his eyes off the TV screen. “Not necessary. Mom likes to cook. She says it relaxes her after a long week.”
“Okay. But since I’m not one of her kids, don’t you think I should bring something?”
Jackson did drag his gaze from the TV. “Hey, don’t sweat it. She really will have everything taken care of and we all pitch in and help when we get there.”
That, at least, was slightly more detailed information. “Okay.”
“Ha. You’re dead, Jackson,” Rafe said.
Jackson tossed his controller on the table. “Shit.”
Rafe laid his next to Jackson’s. “Time to go anyway.”
“Which means I kicked all your asses,” Kal said.
Jackson pulled his keys out of his shorts pocket. “In your dreams. I killed you four times.”
“But it’s the last time that counts.”
They had all headed toward the garage while they were arguing, so Becks followed.
“In whose universe?” Rafe asked. “You always make up your own rules.”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah, and they’re always wrong.”
Kal seemed unoffended. “You’re both jealous because I beat you all the time.”
Jackson signaled for Becks to climb into his truck. “Someday you both might be as good as me.”
She could hear Kal’s loud laugh even after she closed the truck door.
As Jackson backed down the driveway, Becks glanced over at him. “Is it always like this?”
“Like what?”
“You and your brothers.”
“What about—oh, the bickering?” He laughed. “That was tame. You should see when it gets physical. We can throw each other across a room.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. Does anyone get hurt?”
“Nah. It’s all in fun. That’s how we blow off steam.”
“It sounds brutal.”
“It’s just play, Becks. We’re all tough. We can take it and we all know the limits of roughhousing. So did our dad. Once we settled in with our parents and got comfortable enough to be ourselves, we really started having fun with each other.”
Now that she knew they didn’t actually try to kill each other, she leaned back against the seat. “It must have been amazing to grow up together.”
“It was pretty incredible. Not a day goes by that I don’t realize how damned fortunate I was to get adopted along with Rafe and Kal. All three of us adopted together? It’s almost unheard of, especially at our ages.”
“Obviously your parents saw something special in all of you.”
“Yeah, I still question what that was. We were a trio of hard-luck cases. Especially me. I was bitter and angry and once the shock from being in the fire wore off, all I wanted to do was get back out on the street.”
“So what stopped you?”
“Rafe and Kal. When our parents offered the option of fostering us, Rafe and Kal jumped on the idea. They wanted to stay.”
Now she understood. “And you didn’t want to be separated from them.”
“Right.”
“So you made the ultimate sacrifice and allowed the Donovans to foster you.”
“Yeah. Some sacrifice. A warm bed, hot meals, a shower every day. And I got to go to school.”
Most kids hated school. But for homeless kids who craved learning? Being able to attend school was like winning the lottery.
“I understand, Jackson. We had freedom to come and go as we pleased, to do whatever we wanted to do. We didn’t answer to anyone, especially adults. That kind of freedom was hard to give up. And foster care was sometimes hazardous. It was like tossing a coin as to which was worse—the streets or the unknown of a foster home.”
“Yeah.”
He pulled into the wide driveway of a very nice ranch house. It was an older home, but Becks could tell it had been well maintained. The front yard was small but there were a couple of very pretty palm trees out front along with an extremely tall oak. She could picture the guys roughhousing on the front lawn, or riding their bikes down the long driveway.
It must have been heaven. She felt a pang of jealousy, then shoved it away.
She’d had a decent life and she was grateful for it.
“Nice house,” she said as they got out of the truck.
He scanned the front of the house, then smiled. “It’s home.”
Home. A word not many of them had ever been familiar with. “It’s a nice home.”
He shrugged. “It’s not so much what’s on the outside that makes a place home, but the people on the inside.”
She felt a rush of emotion at his words. “Isn’t that the truth.”
They walked in the front door, which was unlocked. Becks heard raucous noise coming from the family room, which was where Jackson led her. Rafe and Kal had already made themselves comfortable on one of the sofas, which faced another one where a very attractive black woman sat next to a striking-looking white man. Both looked to be in their late forties or early fifties.
“Hey, Becks is here,” Rafe said.
The older couple stood and the woman came over to her with a smile on her face. “Becks, I’m Laurel Donovan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Instead of a handshake, Becks was enveloped in a hug. It was a nice hug, too. Not smothering, but gentle and warm.
“Thanks, Mrs. Donovan.”
“Oh, none of that,” she said. “Call me Laurel.”
“Okay.”
Mr. Donovan held out his hand to shake hers. “Welcome to our home, Becks. I’m Josh Donovan. Glad you decided to come along for dinner.”
“Hi, Josh. And it’s not like these guys would let me say no.”
Josh laughed. “They can be persuasive.”
“Come on, honey,” Laurel said. “Let’s go into the kitchen and have something to drink and get to know each other.”
“No inquisitions, Mom,” Jackson said.
Laurel pivoted. “When have I ever done an inquisition?”
“Every time we brought a friend over,” Kal said.
“Hush, you,” Laurel said, laughing.
Becks thought Laurel had the best laugh she’d ever heard. She felt instantly comfortable.
“Kal told me you have a tattoo business,” Laurel said. “Wine or beer?” she continued as she opened the refrigerator in what was a small but very clean kitchen.
“Beer would be fine, thank you. And yes, I do. I assume he also told you how we ran into each other again after all the years apart.”
“He did.” She poured herself a glass of wine. “Let’s sit at the table.”
They each took a seat at the nicely sized wood table that took up almost all the space in the nook.
“I’m sorry about the smoke out at your place.”
“It’s okay. I just found a new spot for my shop and it’s even better than the old one.”
“Then I’m glad. Sometimes bad things happen to you so that something good can take its place.”
“That’s very true.”
Laurel looked her over. “Your tattoos are beautiful. I have one on my hip that my boys don’t even know about.”
“Really.” Becks cracked a smile. “What kind, if I can ask?”
“It’s a leftover from my wayward youth. A spilled shot glass, of all things. I got it in Mexico one drunken night with my girlfriends.”
Becks laughed. “Drunken tattoos are always the biggest regrets. But look at it this way, you had fun with your friends, didn’t you?”
“Oh, it was memorable all right. Permanently memorable.”
Becks let out another laugh. “Lesson learned. I’ve done some cover-ups for people who got dru
nken tattoos they want to forget ever happened.”
Laurel lifted her chin. “I regret nothing. It’s just funny to me now.”
“That’s the way to think of it.” Becks took a swallow of her beer, letting the cool liquid soothe her dry throat. “I always think of mine as the story of my life. How I felt at a moment in time, my emotions, my heart, what I was going through.”
“So your skin is an open book, the canvas of your life.”
She loved that Laurel understood and her heart swelled. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
“It’s a beautiful canvas, Becks. Own your happiness as well as your sorrow. It makes you who you are.”
“I intend to. Thank you.”
Jackson appeared in the kitchen. “How’s it going in here?” he asked as he went to the fridge to grab a beer.
“We’re doing fine,” Laurel said. “Getting to know each other. What are you guys all doing?”
“Talking work, of course.” He stood there sipping his beer.
“Sounds great, honey,” Laurel said, waiting.
Jackson continued to linger, until his mom gave him a look. When he still didn’t move, she said, “Out.”
He rolled his eyes and said, “Fine,” then left the room.
Laurel turned to Becks and smirked. “I think he was wondering how you were faring in here, or if I was interrogating you.”
“Hardly. And why would he even care?”
“Because he likes you. It’s obvious.”
Uh-oh. She had no idea how to respond to that. “Oh, we’re just roommates.”
“Becks, if we’re going to be friends you need to understand that I know my sons better than anyone. Better than they know themselves sometimes. And I know when Jackson is interested in a woman. Trust me, he’s interested in you.”
“I see.” She played with the condensation on her bottle of beer, feeling suddenly lost for words.
“If you’re not interested in him, you should probably let him know that.”
She lifted her gaze to Laurel. “Oh, I’m interested in him. And he knows it.”
“Good. Then I’ll butt out because it’s now none of my business what the two of you do.”
Thank God she wasn’t one of those mothers who interfered in her kids’ lives. Especially her adult sons’ lives.
“I mean, nothing’s happened between us yet. We’re still feeling our way around each other. Plus I live at the house and it’s kind of awkward with Rafe and Kal being there.”
“You two will figure it out. It’s nice to be reunited with all the boys, though, isn’t it?”
“Honestly? It was kind of unbelievable. But in a very happy way. After that night in the storm when they disappeared, I didn’t think I’d ever see any of them again. We were all so close back then. Losing them hurt.”
Laurel cast a sympathetic look at her. “I’m sure it did. It must have been hard living on the streets.”
“It was. But I ended up in foster care with some good people, so it worked out for me.”
“Your choice, or did you get picked up?”
Obviously Laurel knew a lot about the system. “My choice, actually. Without Jackson and the others, I didn’t have my support system.”
“So you took the chance on foster care again.”
She nodded. “I knew if I landed with a bad family I could run again. The streets were a known thing to me, and I’d done foster care before, too. But I was tired and hungry and I’d lost Jackson, Rafe and Kal. I just needed a roof over my head and some food in my belly.”
Laurel shook her head. “And obviously it worked out for you that time.”
“It did.”
“I’m happy to hear that. The foster care system is imperfect, but sometimes there are so many wonderful people out there who really love and take good care of the kids.”
“Yes, there are. I got lucky and ended up with a wonderful family. So did Jackson, Rafe and Kal.”
She grinned. “Thank you. We love those boys and Josh and I feel as if we’re the lucky ones.”
Becks didn’t know Laurel all that well, but what she’d seen so far told her that she really did love her sons.
Josh stuck his head in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt the girl talk, but I’m ready to cook the chicken.”
Laurel nodded. “I’ll get it ready.”
Laurel stood, and so did Becks. “What can I do to help?”
They ended up prepping the chicken, then made a kale salad with pomegranates and readied the corn to put on the grill along with the chicken. They also made green beans and some sweet potatoes. Becks’s stomach rumbled the entire time.
“It must have been hell on you feeding three growing boys,” she said as she pulled the bacon out of the oven to let it cool.
“It was a sight to behold watching those boys grow. It seemed like every time I turned around they’d each grown another few inches. And we were always out of milk.”
Becks laughed. “I can imagine. They were skinny and gangly when I knew them. Of course lack of food didn’t help. And Jackson always made sure the younger kids ate first.”
Laurel leaned against the kitchen counter and stared into the living room for a few seconds before turning her attention back on Becks. “He did? That doesn’t surprise me about him. He’s always been a caretaker of his little brothers, even when they got older and didn’t really need taking care of anymore.”
She wondered . . . “Laurel, has Jackson ever talked to you about his time on the streets? Or before?”
“Not really. He never wanted to talk about the past.”
“To me, either. I’ve tried to get him to open up to me, but so far I’m not getting much. He didn’t even remember who I was that day of the fire at my shop. Rafe and Kal recognized me right off. Jackson didn’t.”
“I think he’d like to pretend his life started the day Josh rescued him and his brothers.”
“I believe that.” She crumbled the bacon in with the green beans and stirred, then put the lid on the pot to simmer. “This smells delicious.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Me, too. And since everything is moving along in here, let’s go see what they’re doing outside. Come on.”
Becks grabbed her beer and followed Laurel through the sliding door onto the back deck.
They had a small but nice backyard with a covered patio and a large deck. There were beautiful trees affording plenty of shaded space for kids to run around. It must have been great to grow up here. She could envision Jackson, Rafe and Kal as they’d been the last time she’d seen them as kids having a blast in this backyard.
Sometimes she wished she’d been able to stay connected with them throughout their childhoods. Growing up with them would have been her ideal. She could have visited them here, and maybe, if her foster parents had adopted her, they could have come over to her house.
Who knows? Maybe she and Jackson could have dated when she was a teenager. He might have even asked her to prom.
Which was totally unrealistic and foolish and childish, but hey, dreams were fun.
“How’s it going out here?” Laurel asked, moving over to where Josh was manning the grill.
“Chicken’s about done. How are things inside?”
“Same. Becks and I are hungry.”
“All that gossiping work up an appetite?” Jackson asked.
“Oh, you are just dying to know what we were talking about, aren’t you?” his mom asked.
Jackson shrugged. “Not the least bit interested, Mom.”
Laurel cast a knowing look at Becks, who smiled.
She wondered if Jackson would ask her later about her conversation with his mom.
Or if he really wasn’t interested at all.
* * *
• • •
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Dinner was good. Grilled chicken and all the vegetables had really filled him up. Plus, his mom had made ice cream for dessert. He’d had two bowls of that, which meant he’d have to run off some of these calories before he headed back to the fire station, because right now he felt like a slug.
He sat back and sipped on his glass of ice water. After that amazing dinner, beer just felt too heavy. He wandered the yard, checking out the jalapeños his dad was growing in the raised beds, along with some tomatoes and squash.
“What do you think?”
He looked up to find his dad next to him. “Everything’s looking great. You’re going to have a hell of a yield in the jalapeños.”
“Yeah, we always end up with way more than we can use.”
“And all the guys at the firehouse appreciate that.”
His dad laughed. “Never mind sharing when there’s plenty to go around.”
“The chicken was great, Dad. Thanks for inviting us over.”
His dad grasped his shoulder. “Door’s always open, kid. You know that.”
It was one of the things his dad had first said to him, back when Jackson wasn’t sure about all of this family stuff. They’d had long sit-down talks with his mom and dad and Rafe and Kal, first about the fostering thing, and then, later on, about the possibility of Josh and Laurel Donovan adopting them.
Jackson had balked each time. Not because of Josh and Laurel. From the beginning they had been there when Jackson had needed them most. First, in the hospital while he’d recovered from the smoke inhalation from the fire. Then when he’d fought them over not being able to go back out onto the streets. It had been Laurel—his mom—who had stroked his arm and convinced him that it was best for his brothers, and better for him, to recover with a roof over his head and steady meals. And she’d told him if at any time he felt uncomfortable, he could bail and she’d look the other way.
He’d believed her. And he’d never once felt the need to run.
By the time the adoption came along, he was more than ready to have Josh and Laurel as his parents. Though that realization hadn’t come easy to him. It had been a long time since he’d had real parents. So long he’d almost forgotten what his real parents looked like.