Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  And whatever he felt for Cat didn’t turn their fledgling relationship into something more serious. Not yet, anyway. And given her hesitancy, maybe not ever.

  Meg was right. He was probably headed for a fall on both fronts. Doubt spread like wildfire, causing him to sweat. Glancing at his watch, he called Cat, hoping she could douse the flames.

  No answer. Hopefully Jackson wasn’t going to chew her out too much.

  Hank stood in his studio, remembering when she’d been there with him the first time, of how she’d surprised him by exposing some of her insecurities.

  A lot had changed between them since that night, most of it good. Still, her priority remained their business relationship, not their personal one.

  He slipped the phone in his pocket, shut off the light, and dragged himself back to the house, where Jenny and Meg were waiting.

  Whatever romantic dreams he harbored about Cat, this here was his reality.

  His sisters and mother loved him. They depended on him. And they would be in his life forever. At this point, he couldn’t say any of those things about Cat, which made it damn hard to blame Meg for her concerns.

  When he reentered the kitchen, he raised his hand to stop his sisters from speaking. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I know you’re worried, and I know I’m taking some risks.” He spread his arms open for a hug, wrapping his arms around them and resting his cheek on Jenny’s head. “I love you guys and I don’t regret anything I’ve done.”

  “We appreciate everything you do, Hank,” Jenny choked out. “I swear we do.”

  “I know.”

  Eddie trotted over and raised his arms. “Up!”

  Hank’s chest warmed every time the little guy grinned at him, so he bent over and raised Eddie up onto his shoulders. He then forced himself to meet Meg’s eyes. “We’re okay, right?”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Meg sighed. “You’re right. We’ve left all the heavy lifting to you, probably because you’ve made it look easy and never complained. But I know better than anyone how hard it is to care for the chronically ill.” She reached up to take Eddie off his shoulders. “I’ll speak with Anne and Deb about pitching in more, both financially and physically. They ought to get their butts back here more often anyway.”

  “Thanks. Every bit of help will make a difference.” Yet he couldn’t shake the premonition that things were probably only going to get worse.

  Mom,

  Another anonymous “love note” arrived. Same paper, same block print, different post office. I called the police this time, but as I suspected, there isn’t much they can do without a real threat or proof that it’s Justin. The potential downside of questioning him (inciting him, negative publicity, giving him the satisfaction of knowing I’m bothered) outweighs any chance that he’d actually confess.

  Without a confession or other proof, I can’t get the restraining order extended, so I asked them not to approach Justin yet. I think it’s smartest to ignore him. If he really wants me back, he’ll be on his best behavior, right? Not to mention the fact that he might not be the one sending the notes.

  Maybe the fact that you’re watching over me is what makes me feel safe?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Instead of using the ten-minute drive to prepare for a confrontation with Jackson, Cat spent it rehashing her conversation with Meg, whose disapproval clung to her like a silk shirt on a muggy day. Between that and Hank’s reluctance to tell his family about their venture, she wasn’t in the best frame of mind to deal with her brother.

  Sitting in her car, she stared at his house and thought through her position. Sure, she’d poached Hank from his crew, and yes, she knew how much Jackson relied on Hank. But like she’d told David, Jackson didn’t own Hank. And he didn’t have the right to scold her for starting a business he’d never considered, let alone pursued.

  Bolstered by her private pep talk, she marched up the front walkway. Glancing around, she noticed his overgrown shrubs and small patches of rotted wood and peeling paint on the clapboard home. Frowning, she knocked on his front door. From inside, she heard him call out “coming” as he shuffled to the entry.

  When the door swung open, his surprise quickly faded into a familiar smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight, Judas.”

  “Ha-ha.” She reverted to an old diffusion technique by patting his cheek and kissing him hello. That’s when she smelled the whiskey. “Hard liquor?”

  “Don’t start.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not up for a lecture, Cat. If that’s why you came, then turn around and go home.”

  “No lectures. I came to talk.” When she entered his house, her stomach dropped.

  The faint stench of cigar smoke permeated the stale air. A half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich sat on the coffee table amid a dirty dish, empty Chinese food cartons, and a handful of Snickers wrappers.

  “What’s with the mess?” Other areas of the house in her sight line revealed the same marked difference from his usual tidiness.

  “It’s Friday. I’m a guy and I wasn’t expecting company.” He collected the trash and dirty dish from the coffee table. She followed him into the kitchen, only to discover additional dishes piled in the sink, and papers and mail scattered across the countertops.

  Quietly she collected the discarded, torn envelopes. When she opened the garbage bin, she glimpsed two empty whiskey bottles at the bottom of the trash can.

  She slid the garbage drawer closed. He was drinking too much, just as David and Hank had suspected. She refrained from lecturing in favor of poking around for an explanation. “What’s a ladies’ man like you doing home alone on a Friday night anyway?”

  “I’m done with dating for a while.” He didn’t glance up from the sink.

  “That I can understand.” Only two months earlier, Cat had felt exactly the same way. Since then she’d let Hank into her life, and now everything was changing.

  “Hmph. Seems to me you’re doing just fine. Thanks for taking my wingman. Especially after I convinced him to do your project in the first place.” Jackson placed the last dish in the dishwasher before drying his hands. “Sure hope you know what the hell you’re doing, or you’re going to screw up his life six ways to Sunday, Cat. Can you handle that responsibility and pressure?”

  Apparently not very well, she admitted to herself.

  “He wouldn’t have as much pressure if you hadn’t only given us six weeks to get things up and running.”

  The corners of Jackson’s eyes crinkled above a smile. “You think I should keep him on my payroll and continue to fund his health insurance even though he’s essentially given me notice that he’s quitting?”

  “What would it hurt? You always say he’s your best employee, that you depend on him.”

  “Hank works harder than two guys, but I’ve already hired Doug and Ray this summer, and now need to hire a replacement for Hank. I can’t have three new people on the payroll and keep Hank employed indefinitely. Not good business.”

  “No one said indefinitely, but six weeks seems a little harsh for someone you consider a friend.” Cat rested her hands on her hips.

  “Says the one with no experience managing employees or the expenses of running a business. Talk to me a year from now, then we’ll see how your perspective has changed. That is, if you’re still in business.”

  “You’re so sure I’m going to fail, but I didn’t know anything about modeling when I started, either, and look what I accomplished.” She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t wait to prove you and David wrong.”

  Jackson raised his hands. “I hope to hell you do prove me wrong. You think I’d be happy for you to lose money and Hank’s whole family to suffer? Hell, one of the reasons I’m cutting Hank off is to make sure you dig in and give one-hundred-fifty percent. Trust me, anything less won’t cut it.”

  “So you’re not holding a grudge?” Cat tilted her head, and Jackson grabbed her in a mock headlock like he did when they were young.

  “Oh, I’m
holding a little grudge.” He kissed her forehead before releasing her. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass before Christmas. But tell me this, what’s really going on between you two aside from this business stuff? Norwalk’s a long way from Park Avenue. And Hank isn’t exactly your ‘type.’”

  “Sometimes a change is good for the soul, Jackson.”

  “Amen,” he mumbled as he meandered to the living room sofa, where he plopped himself down and picked up the remote. “I could use a change.”

  “How so?” Cat sank into the leather chair, hoping to exploit the opening he’d provided.

  “Never mind.” He waved her off and poured another tumbler of scotch. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks.” She bit her tongue to keep from commenting on the booze. “Tell me, what do you mean when you say you need a change?”

  “Nothing, just talking.” He stared at the television screen while scrolling through the channels. She watched him chug half the contents of his glass in a matter of seconds.

  “Maybe you should slow up, Jackson.”

  He held up his pointer finger. “Stop.”

  “Fine,” she said on a sigh. After all, lots of people drink on Friday night. At least Jackson wouldn’t be driving.

  While the television blared, Cat’s mind wandered back to Hank. Contrary to her plan, she’d grown attached. Vivi’s advice threaded through her conscience like the weeds sprouting through the cracks in Jackson’s front walk. “And by the way, your plan leaves out the most important benefit of any relationship—love.”

  At twenty-eight, Cat knew little to nothing of real love. She’d thought Justin loved her, but he’d merely considered her a trophy. Before him, all she had to show for her efforts was a string of past lovers who’d become disenchanted when she’d fallen short of the sex appeal and femininity of her image. And now infertility—the antithesis of that image—would also require Hank to be open to adoption or egg donors, or maybe give up children altogether.

  If only she weren’t infertile, if only she and Hank weren’t starting a business, if only, if only, if only . . .

  Commitment required honesty. Honesty required Cat to open up, be vulnerable, and risk rejection—three things she’d never done well.

  The clink of a glass caught her attention as Jackson poured himself another drink.

  Maybe her brother didn’t want her help with his problems, but she needed his help with hers. “Jackson, I need to talk to you about something serious. Something personal.”

  “I keep warning you, I’m not up for a lecture.” He turned off the TV and tossed the remote aside.

  “No, this is about me.” Oh, God. Am I really going to do this? She swallowed hard, but her mouth remained dry.

  Jackson’s forehead wrinkled with concern. Sitting forward, he shoved aside his drink and rested his elbows on his knees. “Talk to me.”

  And there he was, the brother she could depend upon. Focused, caring, willing to listen. A lifetime of love between them—childhood secrets, inside jokes, the security of unconditional love. She couldn’t imagine life without him or David, which only underscored the fact she might never create a family of her own.

  Family. Hers hadn’t really recovered from her mom’s death. Her dad and Janet orbited the family now rather than being the center of it, as her parents had been. Vivi’s love literally saved David from being completely isolated. She also provided a bridge between him and the family, yet his and their dad’s secret kept David circling the periphery. Meanwhile, Cat and Jackson remained stuck, unable to ask for help, yet failing to find happiness.

  Something had to change, because it would break her heart to see Jackson continue to flounder, and, to her own surprise, she knew the solitary life she’d all but accepted as fate was too empty an existence.

  As close as she considered herself and Jackson, it had been years since they’d truly confided in each other. Left with only their father’s guidance to go by, they’d somehow retreated further within themselves. That had to end, and she needed to find the courage to take the first step.

  Heart in her throat, she swallowed again, hoping to loosen the tightness and get the words out without falling apart. Heat crept up her entire body, making her clammy. She dabbed her hand at her forehead and licked her lips.

  “Jesus, Cat, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  Before looking him in the eye, she blurted, “My doctor diagnosed me with premature ovarian failure, which basically means premature menopause. Even with all kinds of intervention, I’m probably never getting pregnant.”

  A confused scowl seized his face. “Wait, how’d this even come up?”

  After she’d walked him through the details leading to the diagnoses and ongoing health risks, he scooted to the edge of the couch. “You’ve known for almost two months?” Jackson clasped Cat’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Shock, at first. You know I never really fantasized about a happily-ever-after featuring me as a stay-at-home mom, but the finality of this knocked me off balance.” Her nose began to tingle, but she pressed on. “I needed time to absorb it. It’s taken me this long to be ready to share it with anyone in our family. I only recently told Vivi.”

  “Not Dad?” Jackson asked, still rubbing her hand and forearm.

  “No. If I never get married, maybe he never needs to know.” Cat felt her face crumpling. Her father had always assumed she’d be some kind of trophy wife and mother, so this news would disappoint him on several levels. The mild panic incited by imagining his reaction caused her voice to break. “I can’t tell him. He’ll force me to visit every specialist on the planet, despite getting the same answer over and over. You know he was never very good at consoling any of us anyway—that was Mom’s job.”

  “Come here.” Jackson pulled her beside him on the sofa. She sank into the cradle of his bear hug and let her tears fall. “Infertility is a profitable business, Cat. They’re always looking for answers. Never say never. You’re still young.”

  “My follicles aren’t producing eggs. I have to accept facts, not cling to fantasies.”

  The harsh truth caused tears to clog her throat. Telling Vivi had been much easier than sharing this news with her brother.

  Jackson squeezed her harder, as if he thought his strength could somehow alter the situation. His big hand brushed against her hair and then he kissed her head. Hearing him sniffle made her cry harder.

  “I can’t stand to see you hurting, sis.” He gently set his fingers beneath her chin and tipped her face up until she met his gaze. His cognac-colored eyes affected her just like a glass of his beloved whiskey, searing yet soothing. He’d always had the most beautiful eyes in the family. Flecked with so much gold, they glowed warmer and richer than even their mother’s. Mesmerizing eyes that carried you away from your troubles, at least until you noticed them starting to glisten with tears. “Listen up. I can’t imagine what you feel, and I’m not telling you what to do or preaching or anything, but if you want to be a mother, there are other options. Adoption, donors, whatever . . . this condition doesn’t mean you can’t ever be a mom. And you’ve got a lot of love locked up in that heart. I know you’d be a good mother, like Mom.”

  Memories of her mother’s smile, her accent, her humming in the kitchen while cooking paella curled around her heart like a warm hug. Then again, despite Jackson’s compliment, Cat had never been warm and open like their mom.

  And despite his good intentions, none of the parenting alternatives he’d recited diminished her sorrow. Whether it made her shallow or petty, she couldn’t deny a primitive longing to see Jackson’s smile, David’s smarts, or her mom’s flair in her own offspring.

  Confused, painful thoughts swirled with self-loathing, inciting a crying jag. She clung to Jackson’s chest, burying her face against his shirt. He held her in silence until her crying quieted to hiccups.

  Her head ached from the emotional outburst, but she mined through the rubble to recover the courage to ask the sca
riest question of all with a raw voice.

  “Is it fair to ask a man to give up biological kids for me?” She peered up at him.

  “More fair than stealing one from him.” Jackson’s expression turned grim and distant, as if brushing aside a painful memory.

  “What’s that mean?” Cat felt his body turn as rigid as granite, so she eased away.

  “Never mind. I’m probably not the best guy for this conversation. Besides, you shouldn’t worry about it until you meet a guy you think you could love.” He cocked his head suddenly. “Unless . . . is Hank that guy?”

  Maybe.

  “Hypothetically, when would be the right time to share this information? Not too soon, or he’ll think I’m already planning our future. But if I wait until we start talking about the future, is that fair?” She looked in her brother’s eyes. “You’re a guy. When would you want to be told?”

  Jackson’s eyes widened as he rubbed his chest.

  “I don’t know.” Once more she detected a pained expression crossing his face. His joints made popping sounds as he stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. “You know I’ve always wanted a big family. If I learned about it after I fell in love, I’d be sad, but it wouldn’t be a deal breaker. I mean, at the end of the day, no one knows what the future holds anyway, and I’d be happy raising any kids with a woman I loved.

  “But if she purposely withheld the information from me until I proposed or something, maybe I’d feel a little betrayed. I can’t say. The heart and the mind don’t always go together when it comes to these things.” He squeezed Cat. “Maybe the right time is whenever you and your ‘hypothetical boyfriend’ have a conversation about the relationship becoming exclusive.” Jackson ran his hand through his hair, looking lost. “Shit, I don’t know. I suck at this kind of thing. You should talk to David.”

  “No, you don’t suck. And I will tell David this week.” She squeezed his hand and stared into space. “I guess there’s no right answer.”