“Need a ride?” Blythe asked.
Frankly, he’d rather walk. Even though it was like twenty miles or something between the school and his house. He supposed he could ask to borrow her phone, but he didn’t even feel right about doing that.
“I’m sure my grandfather’ll be here in a minute.”
Except he didn’t know that for sure. And the idea of being alone in the parking lot gave him the heebie-jeebies. Not that Mr. Corey would leave him there, of course, but that was even worse. The man tried way too hard to be cool—
“Did you call him?” Mr. Corey asked. “Checked to see if he was on his way?”
“Uh...my phone died.”
“Here,” his teacher said, coming closer and holding out his own phone. “Use mine.” Reluctantly, Jack took it—a new smartphone, wow—but then he realized he didn’t know either of his grandparents’ cell numbers. He always went to his contacts list on his phone when he called them. So he tried calling the house phone.
No answer.
With that, the fear he’d tried to pretend wasn’t there made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. What if something had happened to his grandparents, like maybe they’d been in a wreck like his mom—?
“Nobody’s answering,” he said stupidly as he handed the phone back to his teacher.
“It’s okay,” Blythe said to Mr. Corey. “I’ll take care of him.” Then she smiled at Jack as his teacher walked to his car on the other side of the lot. “I’m sure everything’s okay, but you may as well hang out with us until you can get hold of them. Right?”
Jack’s eyes darted around the lot, as if he expected his grandfather to magically appear, before he looked back at Blythe. How could she be so nice to him when he’d been so sucky to her? And Quinn—she probably never wanted to talk to him again. But as he watched Mr. Corey drive off, giving Jack a little wave, Jack realized his options were severely limited. Go with Blythe and Quinn, or stay by himself.
He swallowed. “Could you...could you just take me home?”
“Tell you what—we’ll swing by your house, see if your grandmother’s there. If she is, fine. If not, you’ll come with us.”
Still feeling kinda shaky, Jack climbed into the car’s backseat. But behind Quinn so she couldn’t look at him. And he couldn’t see her.
The weather was warm enough to drive with the windows down. Meaning the rushing air was too loud for anybody to talk, thank goodness. He thought about asking Blythe if he could use her phone, but couldn’t get the words past his throat for some reason. And anyway, he’d be home in a few minutes.
But first they stopped to let Quinn out at her house. She gave her cousin a hug, but slammed the door when she got out, her hair bouncing against her back as she stomped to her door.
After Quinn was inside, Blythe twisted around to look at Jack between the bucket seats. “Why don’t you come sit up here with me?”
He did, but mostly because he didn’t feel like arguing.
“Want to turn on the radio? Or see if there’s anything you want to listen to on my phone?” She flashed him a smile as they drove. “Although I somehow doubt it.”
“That’s okay,” he muttered, then looked out his window. So she’d get the message that he didn’t want to talk. Not that he could have if he’d wanted to, what with feeling like he was going to throw up—
On the console between them, Blythe’s cell rang. She glanced at it, then said, “Would you mind seeing who it is? I can’t answer it while I’m driving.”
Jack almost choked when he saw his father’s number. And got mad all over again. “It’s my dad.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Why’s he calling you?”
“I have no idea. I swear. Go ahead and answer, it’s okay.”
“Dad—?”
“Jack! Thank God. So you’re with Blythe?”
“Yeah. She offered to take me home because Grandpa wasn’t at school to pick me up.”
“I know he wasn’t, that’s why I’m calling—”
“Did...did something happen?”
“Nothing horrible. More like inconvenient. But I’ll let your grandmother explain when you see her, I’m already late for a meeting. I’m just glad you’re okay. And tell Blythe thanks for coming to the rescue. I mean it, Jack—”
“Okay, okay, I will.”
“And by the way—it doesn’t do any good to give you a cell phone if you forget to charge it.”
“I know,” Jack said, smiling a little. “I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”
“Good.” His dad lowered his voice. “Love you, buddy.”
“Love you, too.”
Blythe glanced over at Jack when he replaced the phone on the console. “Everything all right?”
“I guess.” Although he did feel a lot better now. Especially after talking to Dad. “Dad already knew about Grandpa not picking me up.”
“Did he say why?”
Jack shook his head. “He said Grandma’d tell me. But that it wasn’t anything bad.” He paused. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Then she chuckled. “I guess you’re a little old to be called sweetie, huh?”
Actually, he didn’t mind, even if he’d eat dog food before he’d admit it. But Quinn was right—as much as everything inside him wanted to hate Blythe, he didn’t. Couldn’t. Something else that didn’t make sense. Like how, in spite of how confused he felt, he also somehow knew he could trust her. That she wasn’t a fake. So he just nodded, like he agreed with her, because that was easier than explaining.
They’d barely turned into the driveway when his grandmother practically flew out of the house, her hands bouncing up by her shoulders. Bear came lumbering down the steps right behind her, barking his head off. Before Jack could get out of the car, Grandma motioned for Blythe to lower her window.
“And if this hasn’t been the craziest afternoon!” she said as she bent over. “You got a minute? I just took a pie out of the oven and made tea—no, no, please come in so I can thank you properly!”
In the meantime, Bear had raced around to Jack’s side, barking even louder and spinning in circles, like he hadn’t seen him in five years. Laughing in spite of everything, Jack practically fell out of the car to throw his arms around his dog’s neck, not even trying to dodge Bear’s slobbery kisses as he listened to his grandmother’s going on about how his grandfather had gotten a flat but hadn’t bothered to replace the spare after his last flat, that he’d tried to call Jack but he didn’t answer. So then he’d called her but she was outside and didn’t hear the phone at first.
By this point she’d latched on to Blythe’s arm and was practically dragging her up the walk, making him almost feel sorry for her. Grandma was intense. But Blythe seemed to be handling it okay.
“And as usual, I didn’t have my cell phone with me—nobody ever calls me on the thing, so I never think about it! Anyway, I finally saw his message a little bit ago and called him back, but he’d forgotten I’d let Amy Patterson borrow my car for the day, since hers was in the shop and she’s got all those children, so of course I was stranded, too. We knew you were on the trip with the kids, but neither of us had your cell phone number, and when I tried to call the school everyone had already left for the day. So then it occurred to me that Wes would know it, so I called him and told him what was going on, so he could call you.” She let out a loud laugh. “I mean, it all worked out in the end, but my goodness—could things have gotten any more complicated? I thought technology was supposed to make things easier!”
By this point Jack had caught up, although it wasn’t easy trying to walk with Bear dancing in circles around them. Over Grandma’s head, Blythe’s gaze slid to Jack’s, her mouth twitching as if she thought it was pretty darn funny, too. Even if it hadn’t been funn
y at all then.
“Everybody go wash their hands!” Grandma commanded as she marched back toward the kitchen, her elbows stabbing the air.
Jack ducked into the downstairs bathroom, figuring maybe Grandma would tell Blythe to go use one of the bigger ones upstairs. Instead, a few seconds later he was standing at the big sink, squeezing soapsuds through his fingers like he used to when he was little, when he heard Blythe say, “Mind if I join you?”
He took a deep breath, but shook his head to indicate that she could, anyway. She came up beside him, squirting the liquid soap into her palm before saying over the rushing water, “By the way, what happened in D.C. stays in D.C.”
Jack’s eyes shot to hers in the mirror. “Seriously?”
“Promise.” She rinsed off the soap, then shook the water into the sink before reaching for one of the guest towels hanging on the rack. “At least,” she said, her eyes on his reflection as she wiped her hands, “your grandparents won’t hear it from me.”
Jack turned off the water, grabbed his own towel. “None of it?”
“Nope.”
Frowning, Jack scrubbed the scratchy little towel over his fingers. “Are you covering my butt because you like my dad?”
“No, I’m covering your butt because I like you.”
This was crazy. Blythe was crazy. And exactly like earlier, Jack wanted to run. Except he was finally beginning to figure out what he wanted to run away from—the anger, the sadness—that was inside him. That’s what needed to go away—the thoughts. Not him.
Or—and here was the weirdest thing of all—Blythe.
No, the weirdest thing was that they were having this conversation in the bathroom. But whatever.
“I don’t get it. Why you like me. Especially considering...”
“You’ve been a pain in the behind?”
Jack reddened. “Yeah.”
Blythe refolded her towel and hung it back on the rack, smoothing it out for several seconds before saying, “I guess because compared with some of the stunts I pulled when I was a kid? Trust me, you’re a rank amateur.”
He frowned at her, curious in spite of himself. “You were a bad kid?”
Crossing her arms, she leaned against the sink. “I sure as heck wasn’t a very good one.”
“How come?”
“Remember what I told you about my dad?” Jack nodded. “Well, after he left, it was like my mom...I don’t know. Gave up. Not that I’m comparing my situation with yours,” she said quickly. “But I was unhappy. And really, really mad. And I guess I thought by acting up, I’d get her attention.”
“Acting up?”
“Getting in trouble. On purpose.”
“Like what?”
She turned to the mirror to fluff up her hair, then looked at him again. “Not going there, bud, sorry. Since your dad doesn’t know we’re having this conversation. And what happened in my past stays there, too. But suffice it to say he’d ground you for life if you if you went down that path.”
Jack almost smiled. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? That you’re not, like, making this all up?”
“And what would be the point of that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you think I’d think it was cool?”
“That I nearly got tossed into juvie? Trust me, it’s not cool. And you wouldn’t think so, either, believe me.”
At that point, something in her voice, her eyes, told Jack she wasn’t lying. “So did it work? Trying to get your mom’s attention, I mean.”
She shook her head. “If anything, I got unhappier, because I was doing things I didn’t really want to do. And didn’t feel right about. But I was desperate, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Jack said on a sigh. “I know what you mean.”
Blythe chuckled, pushed out a breath of her own. “Take this for what it’s worth, since heaven knows I don’t have all the answers. But eventually, I realized not only that I deserved to be happy, but that I was responsible for my own happiness. That it doesn’t come from outside—it comes from in here,” she said, pointing to her heart. “Once I got that through my head, things started to turn around. Not all at once, but enough that I started to feel good about myself again. About my life, and what I could do with that life. That I had a choice, to either be a Grumpy Gus or to find things to be positive about.”
“Like it’s that easy,” Jack mumbled.
“Never said it was. It takes practice. A lot of practice. A lot of falling down and picking yourself up and starting over again, even when all you really want to do is smack something. Or somebody.”
When Jack laughed, she smiled. “I had a lot of questions, too, back then. A lot of whys? Until I realized some things, there are no answers for. That the only way to get over the hurt is to stop questioning it and kick it out on its butt.” She briefly touched his hair. “I suppose no one can completely understand another person’s pain,” she said gently. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t still hurt for them. And we’d better get out of here before your grandmother wonders what happened to us.”
As they started for the kitchen, however, Jack said, “I still don’t like the way my dad looks at you.”
Blythe stopped, then smiled down at him. “Maybe what he’s looking at isn’t so much me as it is...possibilities.”
“Huh?”
“Your father’s still a young man, honey,” she said. “And he misses your mom terribly. Do you really want him to be lonely for the rest of his life?”
Her words went through him like an electric shock. Because he hadn’t thought of it that way. Even so...
“He has me.”
“Not the same thing,” she said on a quiet laugh. “And anyway, you’re going to grow up and have your own girlfriends, and go off to college, and then probably get married yourself...” She touched his shoulder. “If you want him to let you live your life, maybe then you have to let him live his.”
A little later, sitting at the table and poking his fork into the still warm pie, Jack kept hearing Blythe’s words in his head. About how his dad probably was as lonely without Mom as Jack was—maybe even more, since he’d known her for so long. And it wasn’t like he didn’t want Dad to be happy. Also, what Blythe had said, about it being up to him, how he felt? It made a lot of sense, actually.
Like staying mad at Quinn. Who was one of the most upbeat people he’d ever met. Even though her life hadn’t exactly been perfect, either, had it?
Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her, he thought as he stuffed another bite of pie in his mouth.
Chapter Nine
Wes’s Skype session with Jack that evening, during which the kid told him all about that conversation with Blythe, finally eased the tension in his chest from the day’s events...only to replace it with tension of another sort. Or rather, intensify that which had already been there.
An achy, but not entirely unpleasant sort of tension, the kind that results from a combination of good, old-fashioned sexual desire and—the real kicker—the realization that, if even half of what Jack had said was true, now Wes knew he wanted Blythe Broussard in his life. In both their lives. Never mind that she’d made it clear she wasn’t on board with that idea. But hearing Jack almost sound like a normal kid again...wow. Even if he backslid, which he probably would, this was still a breakthrough.
One that none of the psychologists he’d taken Jack to had been able to accomplish.
And, yes, he knew timing was probably part of it. That Blythe had come along at the right time, said the right things, when the kid was finally ready to hear them. Except it had been Blythe to say those things. To face his angry, grieving child with the kind of grace and courage—and love—that few human beings possessed.
He leaned back in his desk chair, the after-hours silence, usual
ly a welcome relief after the day’s frenetic schedule, threatening to suffocate him. He glanced at the clock on his desk: seven-thirty. Early, for once, since he often sat in meetings until eight or later. His stomach rumbled, but the thought of the leftover, undoubtedly soggy sub in his minifridge did not appeal.
No, what didn’t appeal was the idea of eating alone. Rarely had his law practice caseload in little St. Mary’s prevented him from having dinner with Kym and Jack. The campaign had changed all that, of course. And then, afterward...
The ache ratcheted up to actual pain, of missing his son. Of being alone. Of a bittersweet gratitude for a woman who cared enough to be there for his son when he couldn’t be...when it sure sounded as though no one had been there for her at that age.
He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket, staring at it for several seconds before clicking through to her number on his contacts list.
“Thank you,” he said when she answered.
“For?”
Leaning his elbows on his desktop, Wes smiled. Yes, despite hearing the caution in her voice. Because he also heard the smile, too. He had to be careful, he knew that, not to mistake kindness for attraction. On her part, that is. Not to pressure her into anything she really didn’t want. But when Jack had told him what she’d said, about realizing she deserved happiness, it was as if something inside him broke. Hopefully for both of them.
“For that little chat you had with Jack today.”
“Ah. Told you about that, did he?”
“Word for word, I’m guessing. You done good.” Sagging back in his chair to watch the twinkling city lights through his office window, he chuckled. “A damn sight better than I sure could have, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” she said, her voice swaddling him like a soft flannel blanket. “You and Kym did all the hard work, made him who he is. But it came to me to...to be honest with him. To share. To a certain extent, anyway. I didn’t go into details.”
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