by Liz Isaacson
“Sure.” Jazzy felt like someone had encased her internal organs in gelatin. Why was she all wobbly at the thought of meeting Max’s family?
Because it’s a big step, she answered herself silently. A step she’d never actually taken before.
Max tapped on his phone and sent a message before looking at her again, his eyes dazzling when they danced like they were now. “Great. It’s all set.”
“Great.”
The next evening, Jazzy didn’t feel so great. She knew she looked great—Fabi had told her a hundred times. Her hair had started to grow out, and she’d had Starlee even it out so it was less A-line and more chin-length bob all around.
She wore a pale blue sundress which Fabi claimed made her look like a golden goddess. But Jazzy didn’t think goddesses dealt with as much anxiety as she currently was. She slipped her feet into a pair of white ballet flats and went downstairs. Her mother hummed as she plucked grapes from their vines, and she smiled as Jazzy sat at the bar opposite her.
“You look miserable,” her mom said.
“I’m…fine.”
“Is Max not coming?”
“He’s coming.” It was everyone else Jazzy wished weren’t coming. But tonight, of all nights, she’d learned that everyone in her family would be at the dinner. The only people missing would be Brennan and Cora, and only because they lived in California.
But Dawn and McDermott would be there, with his little girl, Taya. McDermott often brought his Nana Reba too, and sure enough, she was coming tonight. Patrick and his family were coming, as were Milt and his entire crew. Kyler and Dahlia, who’d been back in town for a few weeks now, had confirmed that afternoon. Wren and Tate never missed the weekly dinner, and Wren said it was because she needed a night of good food she didn’t have to make herself.
Fabi was coming, albeit alone. Her sister hadn’t brought Ed to the family dinner yet, but the cuddling at church had definitely reached epic proportions. Even Berlin, who rarely came to any family functions anymore, had emerged from the woodwork to say she’d be there that evening.
Her mother still had her pinned with a meaningful look, so Jazzy said, “I’ll go get Grandpa,” mostly to get out of the conversation. She took her mother’s minivan and went around picking up all the older generation of Fullers. Three more pairs of eyes to scan Max and deem him worthy or unworthy.
She came down the road to find half a dozen cars parked in the circle driveway in front of her parent’s place. Ignoring the twitch of nerves in her stomach, she pulled into the garage and helped her great-grandfather out of the van and up the steps into the house. A wall of noise hit them, and Jazzy panicked that perhaps Max had arrived while she’d been gone. She hadn’t seen his truck or his motorcycle out front, but she still scanned the group for his handsome face.
Her mother blocked her view, her eyes round and worried. “Your phone’s gone off several times.” She extended it toward her. “Sorry, baby.”
“Sorry,” Jazzy repeated as her mom moved away. She wasn’t sure why her mother had to be sorry, but she instinctively took the phone and slipped back into the garage to find out.
Max had texted several times and called once. There was no voicemail, but the texts explained everything.
“He’s not coming.” Her voice echoed in the garage, though it housed four cars. She reread the messages. “He’s not coming because of that blasted bird.” She let her hand fall to her lap, a keen sense of disappointment and disbelief coursing through her in a dangerous cocktail.
After all, she’d lost many dates to Fabi over the years. Even a few to other women, to a sport that took a man out of state.
But she’d never lost to a cockatiel before, and it felt like a new low in this new life she suddenly didn’t want.
Fabi huddled close to Ed on the park bench, as if two other people were sharing the seat made for three. Truth was, she just liked being close to him. Their do-over had been going extremely well, and Fabi was sure the past few weeks of her life had been a fantasy. A dream. Something she made up to convince herself that she could get up and get through one more day.
And then she’d see Ed, and his whole face would light up and she’d remember that this life wasn’t fake.
“What did she say?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.
“She didn’t say anything.” Fabi fiddled with his fingers, her worry over her sister somewhat new for her. “But Max didn’t come to the family dinner tonight, and he was supposed to.”
“That doesn’t sound like Max.”
“Right? That’s what I told Jazzy, but she just disappeared upstairs. When she came down, she’d changed out of her new dress and she snuck out the back right as dinner was served.” Fabi hated that she didn’t know where her sister was, that she hadn’t answered any of her calls.
Ed said, “Maybe she just needs some time to be alone.”
“We’re never alone,” Fabi said. She stared across the path and past the fence that separated them from the lake. “I just don’t like not knowing.”
“She’s a big girl,” Ed said, not unkindly. “She’s probably at home, waiting for you right now.”
Fabi settled further into Ed’s chest, a sigh leaking from her body. “You think so?”
“Maybe,” he said.
But when they crossed the street and ducked down the alley to the apartment building, Fabi didn’t see a light in their second-story apartment window. “She’s not home.” She marched around the front of the building and up the steps, Ed right behind her.
Sure enough, the apartment sat dark and empty. It felt stale, like no one had been there in days, though both Jazzy and Fabi had left it only hours earlier. She spun back toward Ed. “It’s late. Where is she?”
“It’s barely ten o’clock, love.” He brought her close, held her against his heart. He’d started calling her love last week, and it made Fabi feel loved. She enjoyed the sense of safety and peace coming from inside the circle of his arms, and she almost relaxed. Almost.
“I have to go,” he whispered, nosing her neck in a way that sent tingles down her arms. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning, okay?”
She nodded, too distracted to kiss him goodnight. She closed and locked the apartment door and settled onto the couch to wait.
Fabi woke with a shooting pain in her lower back and a wicked kink in her neck. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window behind her. The apartment was still, silent, eerie.
“Jazzy?” she called though she knew her twin wasn’t there. Hadn’t come home. She checked the bedroom anyway, only to find two made beds, one of which Marbles was curled up on, purring.
Desperation and helplessness like she’d never experienced rushed through Fabi. She fumbled to find her phone, finally locating it in the front pocket of her purse, where she always kept it.
She tried Wren first. “Have you heard from Jazzy yet this morning?” The twins had a job they needed to start within the hour to stay on schedule for the day.
“Nope.” Wren didn’t seem to know that Jazzy, the stable, predictable, albeit giggly, sister had dropped off the face of the earth. “So you’ve got—”
“She didn’t come home,” Fabi blurted. “She left dinner early last night, and I don’t know where she is.”
“Oh.” Wren squeaked. Or maybe that was her toddler.
“I’m going to call Dawn. Maybe she’s seen her.” Fabi hung up without waiting for Wren to answer. Dawn had gone through some hard times of her own over the past few years, and while she’d removed herself from the family, Jazzy had never let Dawn get too far away. Fabi had secretly envied Jazzy for the way she always seemed to know exactly how her siblings were doing, and she realized it was because Jazzy wasn’t self-centered.
Dawn’s phone rang and rang, finally being picked up by McDermott, who said, “Hey, Fabi. Dawn’s still in bed.”
“Oh, of course.” She worked late at night, cleaning the businesses the family had contracts with. “I wa
s just wondering if either of you have seen Jazzy.”
“Just at dinner last night.” He didn’t seem concerned, and Fabi wasn’t sure she wanted to get the police involved. But she’d now called Wren—whose husband was a police officer—and McDermott, a state trooper.
“Okay,” she said, making her voice falsely bright. “Thanks, McDermott.”
“Do you want me to have Dawn call you when she gets up?”
“No, it’s fine.” Fabi let her hand drop to her side, her mind reeling. She thumbed out a quick text to Wren, asking her to reschedule their jobs for the day. Jazzy was more important than dusting or vacuuming.
Then she turned in a slow circle, taking in the apartment she’d shared with her sister for seven years. They’d wanted to move out of their parents’ house together, but neither wanted the responsibility of a mortgage. When this apartment building went under construction, they’d come to look at the floor plans, and they’d put down a deposit before the place was even finished.
Fabi loved her quaint little apartment, and she couldn’t imagine living here without Jazzy. She seemed to see her whole life in front of her, and she knew intellectually that if things progressed down the same path she was already on with Ed, she wouldn’t live in this apartment forever, period.
He owned a home on the east side of town, near his sister and the wilds of Utah. Fabi supposed if they got married, she’d move in with him, leaving Jazzy the apartment to care for herself.
“Not gonna happen,” Fabi said with great conviction. Because she was going to find her sister and figure out what had happened with Max. And then they were going to fix it. Because Max and Jazzy belonged together, even if they couldn’t see it yet.
She grabbed her purse and marched toward the door, her phone out again. This time, she called her sister, the prayer that she’d answer fierce and flowing freely from her lips as she left the apartment.
Chapter Twelve
Jazzy ignored her phone, just like she’d been doing for the past twelve hours. She caught the flash of Fabi’s name on the screen, and a pinch of guilt traveled down her spine. But her sister could wait.
“You sure about this?” Starlee held the bottle of hair dye, her hands already gloved, her eyes full of doubt.
“Completely sure.”
“Maybe you should just talk to Fabi first.”
“Fabi doesn’t get to decide what color my hair is.” Not anymore. Not again. Jazzy was tired of being passed over in favor of her sister, or a job, or a stupid bird. A bird. Not that becoming a brunette would change that, but her hair color was something she could control, and those items were in limited supply at the moment.
“Maybe you should take a night to sleep on it.”
“I slept on it.” Jazzy had done very little sleeping, but Starlee could probably tell that just from the bags under Jazzy’s eyes.
The stylist drew in a deep breath. “All right.” She applied the toner to Jazzy’s hair, the coolness of it meeting her scalp and sending a wave of relaxation through her tense muscles. All Fabi had to do was get online and look at Jazzy’s bank account to figure out where she’d stayed last night. There was only one hotel in Beaverton, but it had been far enough outside of Brush Creek City limits to satisfy Jazzy.
Max had called twice, and Jazzy had sudden clarity as to why Ed hadn’t wanted to speak to Fabi. She may have blamed him for a day or two, but she saw now that his reasons for taking a break were valid.
That was all she needed. A break. Some time to figure out what she really wanted with her life. All she knew right now was that she wasn’t continuing it as a blonde.
Max glared at his phone like it was the reason Jazzy hadn’t called him back. He’d been at his desk for ten minutes, and he hadn’t moved a muscle. Hadn’t fired up his computer. Hadn’t opened a file. He just needed to talk to her.
Ed entered, and he cast Max a look that reminded Max of a kicked dog. “What?” he practically barked.
“Fabi’s worried about Jazzy,” he said, his voice completely level. “I guess she didn’t come home last night.”
Max’s heart dove for the floor, burrowing through his other organs, causing them to twist painfully. “She didn’t?” He stood but Ed gave him a stern shake of his head.
“She’s looking for her now.”
“I’ll call her.”
“I bet you’ve done that already.” Ed shifted piles around his desk like he was really organizing it. Max had seen this diversion many times, and he knew that Ed didn’t organize anything. The man’s house looked like a bomb went off on a daily basis. His dogs didn’t help, as they liked to chew stuffed animals until the stuffing was strewn all over the place.
Max sat down, looking as helpless as Ed had ever seen him. “Leave it for now,” he said.
“But what if she’s hurt?”
Ed gave his best friend a pointed look. “Of course she’s hurt.”
Confusion pulled at Max’s brows, ran rampant through his system. “What does that mean?”
“It means you chose to stay home and take care of your sister’s bird over coming to meet your girlfriend’s family.” Ed spoke slowly, in his calm paramedic voice, and though Max had done that, he didn’t realize he had done that.
“She’s my girlfriend,” he said, the words not quite lining up in the right order. Or maybe they were in the right order. Maybe he’d just never put them together quite that way.
“Of course she is. You’ve been dating her for almost two months. You’re kissing her and all of that. What would you call that?” Ed jiggled his mouse and the black screen of his computer brightened. As if he was going to do any work right now. He hadn’t even taken a sip of his coffee yet.
“Birdy was freaking out.” Max realized how lame his excuse was. But he hadn’t wanted to leave the fowl as he didn’t want to disturb Matilda, who hadn’t been feeling well. His intentions were good. Weren’t they?
“I have to talk to Jazzy,” he said.
“Give her some time,” Ed said. “I know she probably needs it.”
“But she should know—”
“And you’ve got to do something about that bird,” he continued as if Max hadn’t said anything at all. “And probably your whole house.”
“My whole house?”
Ed removed his hand from his mouse and looked at Max. “What have you thrown away since Irina moved out?”
Max opened his mouth, a whole stream of words parading through his mind. None of them came out.
“Exactly,” Ed said. “I’ll come over on Saturday. We’ll purge. Then you can call Jazzy.”
“She’ll call me before then,” Max said, his voice full of confidence he didn’t feel.
Ed grunted, and that ended their conversation. By lunchtime, Max found himself praying for a multi-car accident he could run off to. At least then he would feel useful.
Nothing came in. Not even the silly schnauzer who liked to climb on top of the barn. Max made it home and glanced next door to Matilda’s place. He couldn’t hear Birdy, though a dog barked somewhere down the street. The air was still, deathly almost, and Max went past his front door in favor of Matilda’s, his paramedic radar pinging in his head.
He knocked and called, “Matilda? You home?” Her car was in the driveway, not an inch out of its usual place. Somehow, something was wrong. “Matilda?” He tried the door and found it open, as usual.
Her little lap dog, a puffy white Bichon Frise that Matilda had had as long as he’d known her, streaked past him, a couple of yaps coming from its mouth. The dog bounded down the steps and relieved itself on the lawn while Max turned his attention back to the house.
It smelled like the whole place needed to be aired out, and he left the front door open as he entered. A plate holding a single piece of toast sat on the dining room table, the only oddity in the house.
He called dispatch and asked if anyone had been sent to her address. Nope. But Matilda wasn’t here, and she should’ve been. She hadn’t been f
eeling well.
“You must be Max.”
He spun at the masculine voice, his muscles tensing to fight or run. A tall man stood in the living room dressed in business attire, the tie around his neck seeming to throttle him.
“I am.” Max glanced at the little dog who’d followed the man inside without so much as a warning yip. “Who are you?”
“I’m Charlie,” he said, extending his hand. “My mother speaks about you often.”
“Charlie.” Max smiled and shook the man’s hand. “Matilda talks about you all the time too.” He glanced at the cold toast. “Where is she?”
“She called last night and said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“Yeah, she mentioned it to me too.”
Charlie nodded and loosened his tie. “When she mentioned chest pains, I got in the car and drove here from Salt Lake. I took her to the hospital about midmorning. They’re keeping her overnight for monitoring.” He sank onto the couch, making it look like a child-sized piece of furniture. “I hate hospitals.”
Max had had plenty of his own experiences inside of hospitals. “I hear you.”
“Aren’t you a paramedic?”
“Yes. The hospital is usually a beacon of relief. But I’ve…I’ve seen plenty outside the scope of my job.” He didn’t need to give Charlie the details of Irina’s fertility issues. The pain he’d endured mentally and emotionally while she dealt with all of that, plus a physical aspect of their loss.
“Well, I’ll leave you to relax.” Max stepped toward the door. “Sorry to barge in. I was concerned.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad my mother has a neighbor looking after her.” Charlie gave him a tired smile, and Max went home. He wished he had one of Ed’s dogs to greet him. Instead, all he had was that messy bird.
He stood just inside the doorway, the birdcage on his right, the rest of his house spreading out before him. Every item he looked at brought a memory of his first wife. When she’d bought the rug. Where she’d picked out the couches. Why they’d painted the mantle a smoky shade of gray instead of black, the way he’d wanted to.