“I have my reasons.”
It’s been two weeks. Fourteen whole days of keeping this to myself. The first few days, I didn’t say anything because I needed to digest it. I was so sure that after being cleared, I would get a migraine or faint or some other random thing that would set me back on restrictions. Waiting felt like the right thing to do.
When I realized I was being stupid, Amelia came down with a fever and Grayson needed all his focus to be on her. Since she’s still not back to a hundred percent, I’m clinging to that excuse until I can really make sense of my new life.
A life with Grayson and Amelia would be everything, so I’m not exactly sure what I have to work out.
But now that I can go, does it change things? I don’t know.
“Do you think that Grayson isn’t going to be happy?”
“I think I’m not in the mood to discuss this.”
Winnie takes a sip of her drink while not taking her eyes away from me. “If you want me to keep schlepping over here to drive you, then you should get in the mood.”
God save me from younger sisters. “Yes, the ten-minute drive is so inconvenient.”
“I didn’t say that. Jess, look, whatever it is that you’re afraid of, I’m sure it’s not a real thing.”
“I’m not ready,” I blurt out.
Winnie sits beside me. “Ready for what?”
“To deal with it. I came here with a plan, you know? I would heal and avoid all this messy stuff. Grayson was supposed to be married with a kid—”
“You made that shit up in your head.”
“I know, but that was the deal I had,” I explain, feeling foolish. “I got here, and a month later, that plan was obliterated. It’s been so good I can’t even be mad. We’re happy and things are great and now everything is going to change again. I know that’s life. God, I know all this, but my head and my heart won’t align.” I stand, needing to pace as my stomach does somersaults. I can feel myself getting worked up and queasy. “I’m not ready for it to change again.”
My sister watches me move around like a caged animal. “You can’t pretend, Jessica.”
“I know that!” I say, tossing my hands in the air. “I know it all. Do you understand how freaking stupid I feel? Things don’t stay the same, and they shouldn’t. But here I am, a grown woman, knowing how dumb I am, and yet, I don’t care. I want to keep this to myself for just a bit longer because there are other things that are changing and I can only take so much at once.”
Winnie gets to her feet, her hands grip my shoulders, forcing me to stop moving. “Okay. We’ll wait a few more days, let Grayson deal with Melia, and then we’ll deal with your crazy bullshit.”
I nod once, my stomach settling a bit now that I know I have a few more days. “Yes. That’s a good plan.”
“All right. I’ll drive you tomorrow.” Winnie kisses my cheek. “I love you, even when you’re a lunatic.”
“I know, and I love you for it.”
I grimace, feeling sick again. I thought it was nerves, but maybe I’m sick. Suddenly, it’s too much. I run to the bathroom, barely making it before I heave. Winnie rushes in, her hand pulling my hair back.
“Jess?”
“Damn it,” I say as I grab for a towel.
“Are you all right?” she asks, handing me a glass of water.
“Yeah, I guess I really do have what Amelia has.”
Winnie helps me up and then puts her wrist to my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I don’t think she did to start with either.”
“Well, drink and rest,” she instructs.
“I’ll be fine. I already feel better.”
Maybe it was something I ate. I did have eggs this morning, so it could be that.
“Either way, you should rest.”
I yawn. “I don’t think there’s any chance I can stay awake anyway.”
We make our way to the front door. “You sure you’re fine?”
“Winnie, you didn’t worry this much when I had a brain injury. Go to work.” I practically shove her out the door. She’s already late because she had to pick me up from working the night shift. With Grayson out, we’re all trying to adjust to make sure there are no gaps.
She waves as she gets into her car, and then I trudge up to bed, where I hopefully can sleep without another nightmare.
My mother and I are watching television together. She has become addicted to these cooking shows where they’re forced to make strange dishes with ingredients they’ve never used before. I normally don’t watch, but this one is crazy.
“Do you think she’s going to be able to cook a squirrel?”
My stomach roils. “I am trying not to think of it.”
She laughs. “You’re still not feeling good?”
“I was totally fine until you forced me to watch the road kill edition of this show.”
All day today, I’ve taken it easy and have felt fine. No fever still, and it was my day off so I’ve been relaxing almost all day.
“I had no idea this episode would be so gross. The last one was funny when they had to boil everything. It reminded me of the way my mother cooked. I didn’t know that frying was even an option until I met your father.”
I smile softly at her. “Do you regret it, Mom?”
“What?”
“Dad.”
She mutes the program and turns to me. “Of course not. I was young, but I loved him very much. The life we had wasn’t perfect, but it gave me you and Winnie.”
I feel like that answer is very . . . kind. “You don’t have to protect me.”
“Is that what you think I do?”
“Don’t you?”
My mother’s lips form a thin line. “Maybe,” she admits. “That’s what a mother does. I never wanted you kids to see bad things. It was my goal to make life easier for you.”
“It wasn’t easy for you.”
“Not always, but I was happy.”
I pull the blanket tighter around me and see my mother in a different light. For so long, I felt bad for her, pitied her in some way. But she didn’t need pity, not really. She did what she needed to, without complaint, for me and Winnie.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever thanked you.”
Her head jerks back. “Whatever would you thank me for?”
“Being a great mom.”
Her cheeks redden a touch. “That was my pleasure, Jessica.”
“Why do you think Dad left?” I ask with hesitation. “I don’t want to dredge up the past, but there is so much about that time in our lives that I feel defined me. So much I don’t understand.”
My mother takes a sip of her tea, watching me for a moment before speaking. “If there’s anything I do regret, it’s that we never talked about him or what happened. I should’ve shown you and Winnie parts of it, maybe then you both wouldn’t be so afraid to love.”
“I’m not afraid . . .”
“Yes, you are. I see it now, my sweet girl. You have this wonderful man who has loved you since you were too young to know what real love was. And you haven’t told him you’re cleared out of fear.”
I look away, not wanting her to see the shame I feel. She’s right, I’m doing all of that. No matter whether I thought I had an excuse or not, it’s been fear.
“I just don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to feel that again. When Dad left, it was horrible. He just walked away from us as though we meant nothing.”
“Maybe he did feel that way, but the man I married and loved didn’t feel nothing. I believe, in my heart, that he ached from it, but he didn’t know how to come back. Imagine the self-reflection and guilt he would’ve had to endure. Not that it excuses it because, for you and Winnie, there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t put myself through, but that’s what mothers do for their children.”
“You think Dad stayed away out of shame?”
She shrugs. “I have no idea why he’s done this, but he destroyed our family when he lef
t us. I think that he couldn’t handle it and took the road he could walk down.”
“Leaving pain and destruction in his wake.”
My mother’s smile is sad. “Did he really? Look at you both. My girls are strong, independent, smart, and resilient. I had one go through a plane crash and come out okay. The other fights for children who have far less than any child should. He may have left you, but you both rose above and defied any odds. Be proud, Jessica. Be strong and don’t let your past be what destroys what could be a beautiful future.”
“I think you’re pregnant,” my stupid best friend says.
My head is resting on the wall as I try to quell the vomiting. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Jess, it’s been almost three days of this weird puking, and you’re exhausted.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m exhausted because I keep puking.”
She points to my stomach “Which is why I think you’re pregnant.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Says the woman with a baby growing in her stomach.”
“You’re being an ass.”
“You’re in denial.”
I get to my feet and grab my toothbrush. “First, I’m on the pill. Second, we always use . . .”
Oh my God.
We always use condoms, except when we were at the beach house. That night, we forgot. Maybe not forgot, but it wasn’t a discussion, and . . . holy shit.
I clasp my hand over my mouth as my stomach roils again. I drop back down, feeling sick for another reason.
“Easy,” Delia says as she rubs my back.
I look up at her, tears brimming in my eyes. Jesus, I could be pregnant.
“You have to go get me a test.” I grip her hands, holding on for dear life as panic starts to build. “Please.”
“What?”
“A test. I need a test so I can . . . I don’t know, scare my body into sync or something.” Yes, that’s what will happen. I don’t think I’m late yet. It’s only been a few weeks. I should be starting my period any day now.
Delia raises her brows and grins. “But I thought you weren’t pregnant.”
“I’m probably not. But now, now I need to know because you’ve scared the shit out of me!”
“Oh, yes, this is totally my fault, not Grayson’s.”
I close my eyes, hand resting on my stomach. “I can’t be pregnant. It’s too soon. We have dinner tomorrow night with his parents, and I cannot be pregnant.”
“I don’t think babies give a shit about any of that, but what do I know?”
“Delia, please, go to the store. If I go, within an hour, everyone in this town will be talking about how I bought a pregnancy test. I can’t go.”
She lets out a deep sigh while leaning against the doorjamb. “And my going isn’t going to stir up drama?”
“Deals . . .” I say her nickname as a plea.
Delia throws up her arms. “Fine. I’ll go a few towns over and get one.”
“Thank you. I just need the test so I know I’m not and can move on.”
She gives me the side eye and smirks. “Okay then.”
Chapter 29
Grayson
“So, what do you think they’ll serve for dinner?” Jessica asks while we stand in front of the large wooden double doors.
“Hopefully, they’ll be eating crow.”
Her hand tightens around mine. I dropped Amelia off at my sister’s, refusing to bring her into this place in case things went bad. Plus, Jessica and I haven’t had a night alone in two weeks, and I need her. I need to be alone with her tonight, love her, and not worry about everything around us.
“It’ll be fine, Gray.”
I shake my head.
God, I hate this house. All the years of happiness I had were destroyed because of the people who still live here. Now, all I see is the anger and disapproval lurking in the shadows. Bringing Jessica here goes against every protective instinct I have.
“You say that, but you don’t know them.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
I look over at her, she’s wearing a navy dress, and her hair is curled and pulled to one shoulder, allowing me to see her tattoo. Strength isn’t measurable. God, how true that is because I feel like all the strength I have is being sucked away by this fucking place.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her again.
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m just ready for this to be over already.”
Jess turns, her honey-colored eyes staring into mine. “The sooner we go in, the sooner we are done. I . . . there’s stuff I want to talk to you about, good things, all good things, but I want to get through this dinner so it can be just us.”
I rub her cheek with my thumb. “You have me curious.”
She smiles, and her fingers wrap around my hand. “Good, now let’s go inside, eat, and get out of here without bloodshed.”
The door is yanked open before we can say anything else, and my father is standing there. “Are you planning to come in or make us wait on you?”
And so it begins.
He takes a step back, indicating his question didn’t require a response and we’re to enter. We take a step forward, my hand on the small of Jessica’s back, guiding her into the family room.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Your mother is in a mood. A lot is going on, and . . . well, it’s better we get this over with.”
I have no clue what the hell that means, but he looks irate and not just because he had to come let us in.
It’s been almost fifteen years since she’s been here, but the place is exactly the same. My mother had this ridiculous house built when she was pregnant with Joshua. It’s exactly as she wanted it and completely over-the-top.
There is a grand staircase that can either be climbed from the right or the left with a huge open balcony that you can look down from. As we walk under those stairs, we descend the two steps into the grand family room. I don’t know why we call it that since no one is ever in here, but I guess the grand part is true.
Large triangular windows allow maximum light in, and the entire back of the house is windows. The entire thing. Aside from the two front guest rooms, every room has a mountain view. Where the house is positioned there is one hundred percent privacy. My parents ensured as much.
My mother rises to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. “Hello, Grayson.”
“Mother,” I say as I kiss her cheek. The hair on the back of my neck stands as I look around.
“Jessica, it’s lovely to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”
Jessica smiles warmly. “It’s nice to see you as well.”
“Dinner is ready, we were hoping to have drinks first, but since you were late, we’ll just have to drink during.” She looks at me with obvious disappointment.
“Amelia took a bit longer to get settled with Stella.”
She purses her lips. “Yes, well, I can understand that, I guess. As much as I hoped you’d bring her, it’s probably best she’s not here.”
“Oh, good, so there will be bloodshed tonight on the menu.”
Jessica’s eyes flash with anger as she looks at me. I shrug. It’s true, and I’m not going to let her or my father say anything disparaging where Amelia might hear. She has no idea about my last dinner here, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“All right, let’s eat,” my father says as the tension builds. “Jessica, can I lead you in?” He extends his arm to Jessica, and she takes it.
I do the same for my mother.
The table is set, food already plated. Lord knows my mother had the cook prepare the meal because she hasn’t made a meal in years.
We sit, my parents at the heads of the table and Jessica and I across from one another. At least I can focus on her.
My father smiles, pours us all a glass of wine, and lifts his glass. “To family and reconnections.”
My mother lets out a maniacal laugh. “Oh, how fitting, Mitchell.”
> We all raise our glass along with him, Jess and I give each other a look.
There is an eerie silence around us. One that causes every fight or flight instinct to scream out. I don’t know what’s going on, why they were adamant about a dinner, but it feels . . . odd.
Jessica lifts her eyes to me a few times, giving me a look that says she’s uncomfortable with it too.
I put my fork down and clear my throat. “I’m assuming you wanted us here for a reason?”
Mom pats her lips. “Yes. Your father and I want to discuss a situation.”
“You mean Jessica and I?”
“Not that we have an issue with it,” Dad cuts in. “I think we just want to know what it all means. You’re due to inherit your portion of the Park Inn Enterprises, and Jessica is aware of that.”
“Of course I am, but that has nothing to do with why I’m with Grayson.”
“They know that,” I say, looking at my parents.
“Yes, none of us believe that Jessica’s intentions aren’t pure,” Dad adds quickly. “I’m more concerned about the possibilities of complications that your relationship brings.”
“You do realize I’m a grown man?”
“Yes, but that is not what I—”
I glare at my mother, silencing her. “No, I don’t think you do. I’m not sure what the issue is, and honestly, I don’t give a shit. I’m not a kid. I have never asked you for a damn thing. I built my home, care for Amelia, and run the damn inn while neither of you does a damn thing.”
“Where do you think you procured the funds to build your house, Grayson? Let’s not be ignorant. You earn a lot more money than anyone else would in your position,” Dad says with a clipped tone. “You act as though you’ve been working at the factory and have been saving your wages. You’ve been given quite a bit from us.”
The sympathy in Jessica’s eyes crushes me. She looks over at my father. “I don’t want your money. I want to be clear. I’m not unhappy with my lot in life. I’ve saved my own money, worked very hard, and I make significantly less money than someone else would in my position in your company. I don’t complain, in fact, I’d work for free if I could because, for my entire life, I’ve tried to win you both over. I’m not sure what I ever did, but it really doesn’t matter because you think I’m not good enough. However, your opinion isn’t what counts, is it?” Jessica asks me.
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