by Jen Doyle
He looked up as the door to the bar opened and did a double take when Lola ducked her head out.
Shit.
If he’d been able to give her a wave, she probably would have gone back inside without a second thought. But he was already drained. Jack may have gotten good at letting his father’s words wash over him, but it took a toll, no doubt. And Lola was too good a person to let it go.
His father, on the other hand, was so not. “What exactly does that mean, ‘no can do’?”
Jack sighed, closing his eyes as Lola came to him. He didn’t want her to see this side of his life. Didn’t want her to hear it. “It means,” he said, his patience thinning, although not quite as much as usual when she put her arms around him, “I can’t come to Connecticut.”
“The guys are expecting to see you,” his father said, switching tactics to cajole.
“Next time I’m in town,” Jack answered as if he had any clout whatsoever. “I’ll make sure they have tickets for the game.”
“Not good enough,” his father snapped. “Come the week after.”
Jesus. The word on the street must be damn good. That, at least, was something. “I have plans the week after.”
“Then we’ll come there.”
Jack actually held the phone away from his head and looked at it. Word on the street was apparently phenomenal. His parents had never come to him. Ever. “I, uh, I can’t really have guests right now.”
Lola’s head came up, just in time to hear his father’s bark of laughter and oh, so, charming, “Shacking up with one of the whores, huh?”
It was bait, pure and simple. His mother wanted the big society wedding; his father wanted heirs. The more time that went by without Jack bringing women home to meet his parents, the more it bothered them. A few years back, Jack’s father had accused Jack of paying women to sleep with him and Jack hadn’t said anything to refute the statement. He had to admit, he’d gotten a slight thrill out of the fact that his father couldn’t figure out whether it was true or not.
“Well, it’s about time,” his father said, going with the sarcastic response. “Dare I hope you’ll marry this one? Maybe get back on Nate’s good side so we can show our faces again? Get us the info and your mother’s secretary can have an announcement out in no time.”
Lola made a little squeak. Jack smoothed her hair and let his head fall back against the wall not even bothering to respond to the Nate part. It would fall on deaf ears. But it renewed his resolve to not expose Lola or her sons to his parents, ever. “I’m shacking up with a puppy right now, Dad. No announcements required. Unless you want it to be more humiliating, because I’m pretty sure bestiality is worse than me sleeping with Nate’s fiancée. But that’s yours and Mom’s call.” Since that sent his father into full-out sputter mode, Jack seized the moment. “Good talk. I gotta go.”
Half inclined to just throw his phone at the brick wall of the building across the street—and he was pissed enough he’d clock 100+ miles per hour, no question—Jack ended the call and powered down the phone. He shoved it in his back pocket as he waited for Lola to say something. And whatever it was, he’d have to pretend it wasn’t the wrong thing. She seemed committed to finding the decency in him and he’d just been reminded it was an impossible task. They’d been having a really good run, though, and he didn’t want to end it because his father pushed every single one of Jack’s buttons. So Jack held his breath and bit back his temper so he could at least have a chance of responding in the way she deserved. Which was not to bite her head off.
She looked up at him, those gorgeous eyes full of concern. “I am so swallowing tonight.”
Uh... “What?” he asked, his dick jumping to attention. Had she really just said that?
“You heard me.” She grasped the back of his neck with her other hand and pulled him down into a kiss meant to demonstrate exactly how good she was with her tongue. Then she patted the hard-on she had just single-handedly created—literally—and smiled sweetly. “Lightning round is up next. It’s my favorite part, especially because Aaron’s got a ringer on his team and I think they’re about to pull a major upset. A brain surgeon, if you can believe it.” She gave him another kiss, this one on the cheek, and said, “Gotta get back inside.”
Then she did exactly that, leaving him standing there, speechless as he stared after her. And for the first time in his life he gave not one shit about what his father had said.
* * *
Lola had never been as full of rage as she was after Jack’s phone call with his father—and, since she wasn’t exactly known for having a cool, calm head, that was saying something.
Dave had not been in the greatest place when he came back the last time. His mood could change on a dime and on more than one occasion she’d had to talk him down when he’d become infuriated over something that previously would have only elicited a frown. But the one time he’d so much as snapped at one of the boys—something even a decent parent did on a daily basis; Lola herself ten times that, although she probably shouldn’t admit that—he’d been nearly inconsolable.
Lola would like to be a good person and assume Jack’s father was a decent man who was motivated by kindness and who had just had a hard day. She wasn’t a good person, though, no matter what Jack seemed to think. The man had a beautiful, kind son. Lola had zero tolerance for someone who’d so easily throw that away.
Not that she said any of that to Jack, of course. She didn’t say anything, period. And she’d rendered him speechless several times over that night, so as far as she figured, everything was good. But two nights before Christmas she was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner when she got a text from Nate.
Did you know Jack was planning to head back to Chicago tomorrow?
That made no sense. Nate and Dorie were having everyone over for Christmas Eve dinner before heading to Boston the next day; Lola had just assumed Jack would be there.
Just for the day? she replied.
For the week.
No. I did *not* know.
Jack had taken the boys with him on Four’s quick walk around the neighborhood before bed so she couldn’t ask him right away. But she would certainly find out.
She’d just finished loading up the dishwasher when he and the kids came in through the back door. As per usual, the kids were trying to get him to stay with them for the half hour of TV they got each night before bed.
“Not tonight, guys,” she said, since Jack was only slightly better at saying no to them than Dave had been—and they milked every single moment they could. Before they could make their argument, she added, “Yes, I know Auntie Fitz used to do it. Jack can’t tonight.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t protest, coming over to the fridge instead. After grabbing a bottle of water, he leaned back against the counter, almost close enough to touch but not quite. Also as per usual. House rule was Jack could not put his hands on Lola while the kids were in the room.
What was not per usual was the boys looking guilty as they stared up at the ceiling above Lola’s head and laughed. Since her mind was too focused on why, exactly, Jack was planning to head back to Chicago tomorrow, it took her a few seconds to realize something was going on. She raised her eyes to the ceiling above her and sighed.
Mistletoe. With a decidedly sloppy tape job. She did not want to know how they’d gotten up there.
They just giggled.
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them her tried-and-true Death Glare.
“You’re supposed to kiss Jack,” James said, the only one with enough courage to step forward.
She wanted to. She really and truly wanted to, enough so that she couldn’t look over at him in fear she might give in. Just having him standing there was enough for her to want to reach her hand out and let him pull her against him.
“And wh
y should I do that?”
The younger boys looked to Silas, obviously the source of the idea, not to mention their general spokesperson. “Because Marty Penko’s mom said Jack could be my new dad but you were going to have to, ‘Jesus Christ, put out first.’” Not having been around long enough to know you’d better be careful what you said around a seven-year-old because they were as likely as not to repeat it verbatim, Jack attempted to cover up his laugh with a cough. Oblivious, Silas continued, “‘Or, at the very least, kiss him.’ We didn’t know what you were supposed to put out other than the trash and that’s smelly so we went with the mistletoe.”
“Am I allowed to help define ‘putting out’?” Jack said, laughter in his voice.
Lola directed her glare his way.
“Mistletoe works, too,” he said, his smile broadening.
“It does not,” Lola snapped before turning back to the boys. “And why was Marty’s mom talking about me in the first place?” Apart from the fact that she was as nosy now as she had been in high school.
Silas shrugged. “I don’t know.”
But Lola realized she did. Marty’s dad had been on one of the trivia teams the other night. She knew no one had technically seen where her hands had been, but she’d been so incensed by Jack’s father that she’d kissed Jack without thinking through the consequences. And in Inspiration there were always consequences, especially when the entire town was looking for the true reason Jack Oxford was living in Lola McIntire’s basement.
“His dad told his mom you were probably already putting out,” Silas continued, “but I told him trash day wasn’t until Tuesday.” He threw his hands out to the side. “It makes no sense.”
Lola breathed in through her nose a few times in order to hold back from calling Stan Penko and reaming him out. Glancing over at Jack wasn’t even a little bit helpful since he was busy attempting not to laugh. He sobered up very quickly, though, when she crouched down to meet Silas’s eye and put her hands on his shoulders. “Jack is not going to be your new dad, Si. I know you love him. We all do,” she said, attempting to keep her voice steady. “It will be really sad for all of us when he leaves. But he is leaving.”
Pouting, Silas said, “Uncle Nate is leaving, too, but he’s coming back. Why can’t Jack?”
Sometimes Lola wondered the same thing; wondered what would happen if she just came out and said it. She hadn’t even dared to hope for the best when he’d moved into the basement, and look how that had turned out. Never in her right mind had she expected him to fit in so smoothly. It never occurred to her it might actually work. But what she and Jack had was far too tentative to risk her kids’ happiness on that kind of hope.
“Uncle Nate only has one more season left of playing baseball,” Lola said, going for the easy answer and working exceedingly hard at not showing any emotion whatsoever. “Jack is going to be playing for a lot longer than that. That’s why he’s working so hard with Uncle Nate right now.”
And why she needed to keep Jack squarely in the just-a-friend-of-the-family territory—at least where the boys were concerned. She felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. Standing up, she gratefully let him take her place. Except it wasn’t better at all.
“I’ll always come back to visit you,” he said. “And you can come visit me again in Chicago. Anytime. All you guys can,” he added, drawing the others in as well. “I don’t need to be your dad for that.”
They weren’t having any of it. “But why can’t you live here instead?” Emmet asked.
“Who will take care of Four when you’re away?” Silas added. “You need us to.”
A little too heartily, Jack said, “Four’s gonna miss you, too. So much. We’ve got that covered, though.”
It wasn’t helping. Silas started to cry and Lola was afraid she might, too. “But we like having you here,” he said, throwing his arms around Jack’s neck.
Jack tensed at first, his eyes coming up to Lola’s almost as if he was afraid he’d done something wrong. But then the other boys joined in and he had no choice but to hug them back, if only to keep his balance. His arms tightened around them, though, when Silas added, “It’s like having Daddy back.”
Lola squeezed her eyes shut for a minute. Held them that way until she could count on her composure. Then she smiled brightly and first detangled Luke’s arms, then Emmet’s. “It is like that,” she said. “And it’s a great Christmas present for all of us, isn’t it? But mommies and daddies need to love each other in a special way. Jack and I are wonderful friends, but we don’t love each other like that.”
She nearly choked on the words. She could love him like that. She possibly already did. But the piercing jolt of pain every time she thought about giving her whole heart to another man who would leave her and never come back kept her from fully acknowledging the ache in her chest. She couldn’t go through that again—invite it. She couldn’t have another man take hold of her heart and then let her go. “Now how about you get out bowls and spoons so you can have ice cream before you go to bed.”
“But...” Silas started to say.
“No buts,” Lola said briskly, reaching into the freezer. “Dessert then bed.”
He looked from Lola to Jack and then back again as Luke reluctantly got out the bowls and spoons. Jack took the ice cream from her, his hand brushing hers as he looked searchingly into her eyes, but she couldn’t manage that right now. So she yanked her hand back and turned to finish doing the dishes. She waited until they all left before letting herself cry.
Four, demonstrating how he’d wormed his way under her skin in exactly the same way Jack had, nuzzled her ankle and then put his paw over his head to play. Yes, Jack had found them a puppy that played peekaboo. She picked him up and snuggled him, laughing when he nuzzled her face.
“He had to get a boy,” she muttered, scratching Four’s head. “As if I didn’t have enough of those in my life.” In slightly better spirits, she put Four back down, but it was still a miracle she wasn’t sobbing by the time Jack came back into the room.
She tensed when he put his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. “They’re entranced by Star Wars. They haven’t even started in on their ice cream. It’s safe.”
It allowed her to relax, but only a little. And only because he was leaving and moments like this were coming to an end. She couldn’t imagine not having him there to hold her like this. Every time she tried to, all she could think about was how much she wanted him to stay.
As if reading her mind, he said, “If I were built to love like that, you know it would be you.”
That was the problem. Everyone was built to love like that. And even if they weren’t, Jack wasn’t the exception. But she wasn’t about to try and talk him into the concept. Because although she was 99% sure he had it in him, the 1% of doubt was enough to keep her from risking her boys’ hearts. Missing their babysitter was one thing—and, clearly, already bad enough. She wasn’t about to make it worse by letting on how she truly felt or that she wished Jack felt the same way.
“I was planning on heading back to Chicago tomorrow,” he said, reminding her she’d had a whole plan in the first place. “Maybe just spend the rest of the week there and then—”
“Please stay,” she said, the words escaping her mouth before she could stop them. Crying again, she turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest. “Be our Christmas present?” she said, even though it was the exact opposite of what she should be saying. “Let us keep you for a few more weeks.”
He put his hands into her hair, tilting her head up and kissing her so tenderly she almost begged him to come back to her right then, no matter how much it would hurt. It couldn’t be as bad as losing Dave. Not when she knew that was how it would end.
But it could be that bad. It could be worse, in fact. Because this time she would know for sure he’d chosen t
o leave.
“No one ever asked me to be their present before,” he said, his smile so much more devastating when it held a hint of regret. “Saves me a lot of shopping. Should have thought of that a long time ago.”
And there he went, making her laugh, as if he hadn’t just said the saddest thing in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Staying for Christmas was possibly the worst decision Jack had ever made.
He’d had glimpses, of course, of what it was like to be part of them. Even as he’d lived here, though, he’d made sure not to impose himself on the family unit itself. He did the things Lola asked him to do, even going so far as asking Fitz for the spreadsheet she’d created to schedule all the driving back and forth. He’d finish cleaning up the kitchen for Lola after she went up to put the boys to bed. And, yes, he did her laundry. He really liked doing laundry, both when it was about the clothes themselves and when it was about taking them off of her.
Where the kids were concerned, Jack was careful to keep it all strictly in just-helping-out territory. He didn’t put the boys to bed. He didn’t hug them or kiss them the way she did. He certainly didn’t kiss her in front of them. He’d take them outside to play with the dog while she was cooking. Thanks to the unlimited amount of snowballs, Silas was developing a mean fastball, and Jack was pretty sure Luke had an excellent career ahead of him as a center fielder. The kid could cover nearly the entire backyard.
But celebrating Christmas with them threw Jack entirely. After the mistletoe incident, Lola had been so sad that he’d almost given in and told her he would try—for her—even if it was a disaster waiting to happen. But it wasn’t fair to pretend he could give her the life she deserved, no matter how much he wanted to.
In theory, Christmas Eve at Nate’s should have been just another party. It had never been harder to keep up the charade, however, smiling and laughing as if his heart hadn’t broken. Especially when Nate called him on it, taking one look at him and Lola—who on the surface seemed perfectly fine—as they walked in.