Inked Memories (Montgomery Ink Book 8)
Page 10
“Do you have an appointment with your dad today? Hell, I’m sorry, Jilli. I’ll figure something out. There’s another plumber I can call to see if they can work on a contract basis today.”
She was already shaking her head and giving her dad a hug as Wes spoke. “I’ll be there, Wes. But we need to get me help because I can’t do this all the time.”
“I know. We’re working on it. It’s been one set of annoying circumstances after another, but I truly appreciate it.” There was yelling in the background, and Wes cursed. “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you, and tell your dad I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“See you in a bit,” she ground out, pissed off that she had to go to work on a day she had specifically taken off to spend with her father. And while she knew the Montgomerys would honor that request in any other case, it still sucked that she had to go in because of someone else’s mistake.
“Love you, baby.” Her dad hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, tears welling because of her anger and just the idea of leaving her dad today when she didn’t want to.
“Love you, too,” she choked out. “I’m sorry I’m ruining our day.”
He leaned back and cupped her cheeks. “I have my moments with you every day. I’ll see you when you’re done. It’s an honor, isn’t it? That the Montgomerys think you’re so amazing at your job that they can’t work without you.”
“You say that, and later I’ll feel proud, but right now, I’m just annoyed.”
“You’re my kid, of course, you’re annoyed.” He kissed her temple again. “Now go kick butt and let me know how it goes. Love you, Jilly-bean.”
She laughed and pulled away. “Love you, too, Dad.”
She hugged him one more time and grabbed her things so she could head to the site. Today was just one more example of why she needed help, and they all knew it. The company used to have four plumbers, but two of them had moved away, one had retired, and they’d fired the other.
There was a shortage in the area at the moment since the housing boom had slowed and everyone was for one reason or another starting up their own companies and overcharging. But Wes and Storm had hired four more people to work under her—only they had to go through recertification and wouldn’t be able to start for another week or two. It was the company’s policy, and she had gone through it, as well, but the timing sucked.
Honestly, she’d been lucky that they’d tried to give her a day off at all and knew they would have honored it if things weren’t so crazy, but it still annoyed her that she had to come in when she’d wanted to spend the day with her father. Add that to the fact that she still felt weird when she was around Wes, and it made for an uncomfortable situation altogether.
She let out a breath as soon as she pulled into the parking lot and turned off her engine. People were milling about and weren’t running in panic, so she took a few extra minutes to center herself. For some reason, every time she was with Wes and even the slightest annoyed, her temper blew. Okay, so she knew the reason, and it had everything to do with the burning attraction between them. The fact that they both actively ignored it—or at least tried to—didn’t help her temper. Nor did it help his, since she wasn’t the only one with a short fuse when they were near each other. But no matter that her body burned when she was near him, nothing could change between them. She might not be going on another date with Clark, and Wes had said Sophia was just an old friend, but that didn’t mean they could have each other.
It just wouldn’t work out and would make things harder with her working for him and with the fact that she was still friends with Storm and learning her relationship with Everly. It was all so complicated and borderline soap opera, that she knew the best thing for everyone was for her and Wes to stop flirting or whatever the hell they were doing. No more stolen glances. No more phone calls about knitting bets and explanations about who they were dating. Just no more Wes.
So, of course, she jumped and let out a squeal when Wes tapped on the window of her truck with his good hand. His bruises and cuts were healing, but he still had more healing to do.
“Jesus,” she gasped before grabbing her bag and opening the door. “You scared the crap out of me.”
He held up his hands—one still in a soft brace that made her wince inside—and raised his brows. “I didn’t mean to. You were so lost in thought or whatever, I wanted to make sure you were okay. You are okay, aren’t you?” He looked genuinely sincere and worried about her, and that just mixed up her already tumultuous emotions. She didn’t want him to care about her. She couldn’t deal with the fact that Wes was just a good guy who cared about a lot of people. She needed him to be standoffish and make it easy for her to stay away from him and keep him out of her thoughts. She needed to stay mad when it came to him so she could keep her distance.
She needed to remember that she was pissed off that she had to work today and, somehow, it was going to be all Wes’s fault. And if she kept up that internal dialogue where she sounded like an insane person, maybe she’d get over her attraction to this particular Montgomery.
“I’m not okay, actually,” she bit out. “I shouldn’t have to be here because someone else screwed up and because your company can’t keep a plumber. Just because you can’t deal with timelines and organization, doesn’t mean I have to ruin my plans.” She was so off base, it wasn’t funny, but everything came out as a growl instead of a legitimate complaint. It honestly wasn’t the Montgomerys’ fault that this happened, yet she was putting it all on Wes’s shoulders.
From the narrowing of his eyes, she knew he didn’t appreciate it. “You were told that you might be called in, Jillian.” His tone was frosty, and it only put her back up. “You were told that this wasn’t the best time to take a vacation day but that we would do our best. You were told that you would still be on-call like every single person in your place in the hierarchy of this company at this stage in the project. That means Meghan, Luc, Decker, Tabby, Storm, and I are here to clean up a mess not of our making. You are part of that hierarchy, even if you think yourself better than us. Now, if you’re done acting like someone not of your level in your profession, I will show you where we need you.”
He raised his chin, and she met his gaze.
Damn it.
She hadn’t meant to sound like a bitch, and now she was embarrassed and pissed off at the same time. Thankfully, there was no one else near them to hear their conversation, but there was no denying the tension in their postures. It seemed no matter what she did, she’d always be fighting with Wes Montgomery—even if she thought they’d been on a path to something far calmer. Or maybe that was the problem. They hadn’t been on their way to something easier, but rather something a whole lot more complicated.
“Show me where you need me,” she said slowly, her tone neutral. She was not an asshole, and she needed to remember that. They could fire her for her attitude, and with the way she constantly butted heads with Wes these days—playful phone conversations and the holding of hands at hospitals aside—he was still her boss.
“Right this way,” he said after a moment of studying her face. She followed him after she’d picked up her heavy toolkit. She was grateful that he didn’t offer to help pick it up and carry it for her. The only person who had tried doing that on the Montgomery crew had been Jeff, but his offer had come with a leer and lewd remarks. If she needed help, she’d have asked, and off the job, any of the Montgomerys would have offered. They kept the lines clear between friendship and profession, and she needed to do a better job of that herself.
With Wes by her side, she got to work and did her best to clean up the mess left by the city and poor planning from the previous owners. It was a messy job, and one she wasn’t in the mood to do, but in the end, when she was able to actually help out and fix things, she got that buzz of adrenaline that told her she’d picked the right line of work. There were just some things she could do that others couldn’t, and that was why she kept doing it.
Wes stood up with her and pulled out two bottles of water, tossing one at her as she reached for her phone. She caught it and rolled her eyes since he had been far closer to hitting her in the shoulder than actually giving her water.
The readout on her screen made her freeze, all thoughts of levity falling away.
“Roger? What is it?” She was surprised how calm she sounded, though she was anything but calm.
Wes must have heard something in her voice, though, because he set his water down and tugged her bottle from her hands, setting it next to his. He stood by her, hovering with his hands on his hips as she blinked at Roger’s voice.
“Jillian, honey.” Her father’s neighbor didn’t say anything else, and she let out a shaky huff of breath.
“What’s wrong, Roger? Are you with Dad? Why isn’t he calling me?” Her voice was edging on hysterical, and she knew it, but she didn’t care.
“I came over to watch the game, and your dad didn’t answer the door or his phone when I tried calling him. You gave me a key, remember? In case I needed to get inside in case of an emergency? So I used it and walked inside.”
He was silent for another stretch of breaths, and her hand shook.
Wes stood closer, questions on his face, but she couldn’t see anything beyond that. It was as if the world had gone into a tunnel and the only thing she could see was Wes’s face, the only thing she could hear was Roger’s breathing on the other end of the line.
“I thought he’d fallen asleep in that big chair of his with a blanket tucked over his lap. I would have left then, thinking I’d just interrupted his nap, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Her legs shook, and Wes put his hand on her hip, steadying her.
“Roger…”
“He’s gone, honey. He wasn’t breathing when I went to him, and I called 911. They pronounced him dead on scene.” He choked out a sob, but Jillian only blinked, the stinging behind her eyes blurring her vision. “The coroner is on his way to pick him up to take him wherever they take him. I don’t know anything else, Jillian. You need to come home. I…I don’t know what to do, darlin’. I’m so damn sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
He started crying then, big sobs that she knew would shake his large frame and would be heard from miles away, but she could only hear them as a bare whisper.
“I…I’ll be right there.” She hung up, not knowing what else to say. She couldn’t find the words to tell Roger that it wasn’t his fault, couldn’t find the words to say everything would be okay and that he didn’t need to cry.
It was all a dream, right?
She’d just left her father smiling and laughing in the kitchen. He’d stolen bites of gelato for fuck’s sake. He was fine.
Her father was not dead.
“Jillian? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Wes stood in front of her, his warm hands on her upper arms as he bent so they were eye level.
She should have been with her father.
She shouldn’t have been here.
She could have helped.
She could have done something.
She…she couldn’t think.
Tears fell down her cheeks, and she heard a keening wail that echoed throughout the large warehouse. For a moment, she wondered where that sound had come from until she realized that it was her.
The tightness in her chest was real, and the salt on her lips and tongue was from her. Wes pulled her close, holding her to his chest as she sobbed and fought for breath. She couldn’t tell him what was wrong, couldn’t yell at him for making her be here.
Because it wasn’t his fault.
It was hers.
She hadn’t been enough.
She hadn’t been able to keep her father here.
And now, he was gone.
And she was alone.
Again.
Chapter Eleven
Wes tugged at his tie, grateful that he could forego the brace for now, and wondered how on earth all of this had happened. One moment, he’d been fighting with Jillian; the next, working side by side and getting the job done. And then…well, the next thing he knew, her world had shattered, and he hadn’t known how to pick up the pieces. Hell, he didn’t even know if he had the right to try.
Ashton Reid was dead.
He’d died of a heart attack peacefully while he napped in his favorite armchair. He’d been a tough and strong man throughout his life until one fall had exacerbated the symptoms he’d been ignoring for far too long. If he’d survived the heart attack, he’d have faced a slow and agonizing recovery as his body would never be truly strong again with the onset of his Parkinson’s.
And Wes had forced Jillian to come to work instead of being by her father’s side. He’d never forgive himself for that. Of course, he knew there was nothing she could have done, and it probably would have been worse for her if she’d been the one to find him, but she’d lost those hours with her father because of him.
Most of the Montgomery clan would be at the funeral, though Autumn and Griffin were staying at Wes’s parents’ house with all of the children. Autumn and Griffin might not have children of their own, but they helped to raise the latest generation and were there when anyone needed them. The rest of the family wanted to be there for Jillian even if some of them only knew her in passing. But ever since Storm had introduced her to them as his friend, and she’d started working for the company, the Montgomerys had done what they did best and adopted her.
They wouldn’t let her do this by herself.
Whatever this was.
He rubbed his fist over his chest, that aching numbness settling in. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, even though he’d almost gone through it himself just a short time ago.
When Harry Montgomery was diagnosed with cancer, Wes had thought his entire world had shifted beneath his feet. Though the prognosis had looked good according to the doctors, nothing was ever set in stone, and there was a reason prostate cancer was a leading cause of death in men his father’s age.
He’d almost lost his dad to a disease that had ravaged his body, but in the end, Wes had been lucky.
Jillian was not.
He closed his eyes, swallowing the bile in his throat. He couldn’t help but look at the similarities of their situations and the vast, cavernous differences. And because he was a tiny bit selfish, he knew he’d hug his father close today, grateful that he was still with them even as Wes mourned alongside Jillian.
Storm had been the one who knew Ashton. He had met the man a few times and had gotten to know him over the years. Wes had no connection to the man who had raised Jillian beyond that he had seen and respected the beautiful and strong woman Ashton had raised alone.
He had no idea if Jillian’s mother would attend, and didn’t know the entire backstory other than Storm’s mention that the older woman had left early on in Jillian’s life and never returned.
He’d never forget the sound of Jillian’s grief when she’d fallen into him after hearing about her father’s death. He’d never forget the weight of her sorrow on his chest as she’d tried to compose herself and failed.
Storm had been the one to drive her to her dad’s place with Wes following behind in his own truck so his brother wouldn’t be stranded. Wes had carried her to Storm’s truck in silence and hadn’t said a word as he stood behind his twin on her porch. She’d waved them off, telling them she could handle everything on her own as Ashton’s neighbors had been near, and Wes had finally let Storm pull him away.
There had been nothing they could do, and he’d known Jillian didn’t want them to see her broken like she was. It had taken all within him not to pull her close and never let her go. The fact that he’d felt that at
all told him he’d been burying his feelings for this particular woman for far too long, but there was nothing he would or could do about it now.
“Enough,” he whispered to himself. “Enough.”
He quickly picked up the rest of his things, grabbed his keys, and headed out to his car. He had a truck for work and weekdays, and a black BMW that he tried to use on the weekends. He had decided that today was the day for the dark-tinted windows of his car and not the loud engine of his truck. He was in his mid-thirties without a wife and kid and had held a steady, well-paying job for over a decade. He’d indulged in his car and the land surrounding his home since he didn’t have much else in his life.
The idea that he would be coming home alone after the funeral bothered him. Somehow, so much of his life had passed him by while he was focused on his job and his family. It was as if he’d forgotten to make and live his own life beyond that.
It was odd how death could remind the living that they still needed to live.
Wes was quiet on his drive to the cemetery, deciding to not even turn on the radio for the background noise of music. They were doing a graveside service and a wake at Ashton’s favorite pub. Wes hadn’t been to many funerals in his life—luckily—but he knew that while people would want to make the wake a celebration of life, it would still be a somber occasion for those the man had left behind.
In particular, the daughter who remained.
He pulled into the parking lot and shut off his engine, his hands shaking a bit. He had no idea how he could help Jillian today, but he knew he had to try. If she needed someone to yell at, to punch and hit until her pain eased, he’d be that person. If she needed him to go away and not look at her, he’d do that, too. If, for some reason, she wanted him to hold her and keep her close, he’d do that gladly.
He just knew he had to do something.
Wes met the rest of his family on the edge of the crowd that had come to celebrate the life and mourn the death of Ashton Reid. The proceedings hadn’t started yet, though Jillian was in the middle of the large crowd of people who had known the older man. She looked so alone in the crowd of mourners who were much older than she and looked as if they didn’t know what to do with her.