She shoved the phone into her back jeans pocket and admired Jake’s yard. Who knew he had hidden gardening skills? And the bottle tree with blue, red, orange, green, and purple glass was surprisingly whimsical. If she texted Ben about making her a bottle tree, that wasn’t technically checking. Was it?
Jake opened the door in bare feet, worn jeans, and a T-shirt speckled with holes. Tempting cooking smells—barbeque, maybe?—drifted onto the porch as he stretched up to touch the top of the doorframe. His T-shirt rose to reveal a taut stomach and the black elastic waistband of his underwear.
“Well, well.” He tossed out the signature Jake Vaughan smile, the one that should have made him a Hollywood star. And hadn’t. “Reckon I’m not the only person in the Triangle without Friday-night plans.”
She held up the tequila. “A future addition to the bottle tree?”
“Only if you help me empty it.” Jake stood back and waved her inside.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner.”
“Want to stay? You need fattening up, and I always fix enough to feed the whole town.”
“Sure. I always overcater, too. Never adapted to cooking for one.”
“Whereas I’ve never adapted to cooking for two.” He grinned. “But luckily for you, I’m a leftovers guy.”
Jake led her into a narrow hallway and disappeared through the doorway on the right. Katie glanced left into a simple white bedroom with an uneven wooden floor. Jake had a double bed—she would have expected a queen—a white dresser, and a single chair. There was a brightly colored throw draped over the end of the bed, and a small rug on the floor. No pictures, no books, no personal items except for the framed photos of Maisie on the nightstand.
“This is cozy,” Katie called out and then joined Jake in the kitchen. “Oh.”
She stared at the window seat. Or maybe it was a fairy hidey-hole. Gauzy fabric and strings of white lights hung down from a large hook. Inside the play tent were some books, a pile of cushions, and the Winnie-the-Pooh lamp.
“Maisie kept the lamp?”
“When she upgraded to a big girl’s room, she struggled with tossing it.” Jake closed the bathroom door, which was next to the oven.
Very cozy.
“I suggested the solution,” Jake said. “A reading nook. She hangs out here when I’m doing yard work, which apparently is ‘super boring.’”
“It’s perfect, Jake.” Katie clapped her hands together. “I always hoped she’d be a reader.”
“That she is.” Jake stirred a bubbling concoction and then lowered the gas. “And much as I love surprise gifts, how ’bout we establish the real reason for the booze?”
Katie put the tequila in the middle of the pine table. She stared at it for a moment before pulling back a chair and sitting down. “I owe you a belated thank-you for raising my daughter.”
Jake reached up into a cabinet and took down two Mason jars. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.”
“Indulging in self-pity, are we?” He opened the tequila and poured one healthy shot.
“That was truth, not pity.”
He started pouring a second shot, and she held up a hand. “Make it small. I’m driving.”
Jake emptied his glass and refilled it; she clinked her own against his. “Cheers.”
Tequila burned the back of her throat as she tried not to choke. Jake turned off the gas, put a lid on the pot, and joined her at the table.
“You know, I underestimated you for years,” Katie said.
“Lots of people do, darlin’. But I’ve been rewriting my own narrative since I was seven. Sometimes even I can’t keep up.”
Katie glanced around the kitchen-cum-living-room. As with the bedroom, there was no personal clutter. “There’s another reason I’m here. That support group idea I’ve been toying with? I didn’t feel ready before. So many potential triggers. But I want to start reaching out to others, and that led me to you. It seems, Jake, that I’m worried about you. Came as quite a shock.”
“Worried about me how?” He wrapped both hands around his Mason jar.
“I figured you might be feeling a little displaced. Might even need a friend. We both love the same little girl, we’ve both been mothers to her, and we both have next to no family. The pieces are there if we choose to put them together.” Katie took another sip of tequila and almost gagged. Maybe it was less disgusting as a shot. “See, I don’t think we’re so different. Take out the womanizing, and your life’s as solitary as mine.”
He looked at the table. “I’m a more selective womanizer than I used to be. And you, you still in love with Callum? ’Cause if you are, get over it. This thing with Lilah’s solid. I’ve watched them enough to know.”
A thrush landed on the windowsill and serenaded them before flying off into light the color of a smoldering fire.
“I thought I was, but I was wrong.” She took another sip of jet fuel. This time she didn’t gag. “But back to you and me. We both ran away, and I got to wondering why. I mean, I knew why I did. And the more I thought about why you did, the more I circled the same answer—my sister.”
Jake slugged back his drink and poured another shot. He held up the bottle to her, but Katie shook her head. After only a few sips, she was woozy.
“The code of confidentiality we talked about before,” he said. “That still apply?”
She nodded.
“Sex used to be my version of self-harm. I hated it, I needed it, it numbed me. Your wedding was tough. I saw Callum pulling away to raise a family, and the old Jake kicked in. The one who was unloved, unwanted, and stupid. Your sister was collateral damage, but things didn’t turn out quite the way I’d planned. And when I saw her again at Maisie’s christening . . . She got to me, okay? But she plays for keeps, and I don’t.”
“And yet you didn’t stay away from her, did you?”
Jake didn’t answer.
“Because that vibe between you guys in my apartment didn’t come from two random nights of sex and alcohol.”
“Am I the test case for this support group, or you thinking about becoming a shrink?”
“Olive branch, Jake. That’s all I’m offering.”
“Yeah, well. I’d stay out of my head if I were you. It’s not someplace you wanna be.”
“Why’s that?”
“You got some pit bull in you?”
“Since she met Patrick, Delaney’s been in a good place. He makes her happy.” She paused; Jake’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly. “To quote what you told me, if you still have feelings for her, get over them. She and Patrick have the real deal.”
Jake sat up straight. “It ended before Patrick. She was hungry for details of Maisie, and I used that to my advantage. It was a few random hookups over the years. Nothing more.”
“Come on, Jake. This bad-guy act doesn’t work with me anymore.”
“Yeah? You forgettin’ it was me who talked Callum into leaving you in a psych ward?”
“He didn’t protest, though, did he? And he certainly let his lawyer bash me good and hard while I was a basket case.”
“It wasn’t that simple. Or maybe it was. We did it for Maisie. Take me back in time, I’d do it over.”
“What, throw me under the bus for my daughter?”
“Hey. I stopped you from—” Jake downed his tequila and poured another shot.
“Stopped me from what?”
Jake said nothing.
Aftershave. Damnit, his aftershave. “It was you, wasn’t it? On the overpass that night?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Holy shit, Jake. It was you. I left the shelter where I’d been living after Ringo died and walked to the overpass. Climbed up on the railing, and someone grabbed me from behind. Next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance. It was you! You’re the one who found me, not Cal. I smelled your aftershave right before you knocked me out. You were my Good Samaritan.” She stood up, hesitated, and then coll
apsed back into the chair. “You saved my life to destroy it?”
“You might want to have a real shot.” He pushed the tequila toward her. “I can always call you a cab.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Suit yourself.” His chair scraped along the floor as he pulled it closer. “I understood, okay? I’ve considered it, suicide. Even know how I’d do it. Codeine. I have some stockpiled. Not saying I’d ever use it, but it gives me peace of mind. I also know that if I decided to do it, I wouldn’t send advance notification.”
He sighed. “I’m guessing you want the whole story, so here it is. I was working two jobs in LA and not making it. And then I got kicked off the soap for having a meltdown on set, which left me as an evening nanny for this director. Great kid, but it was part-time, and my career was officially in the shitter.
“Callum was worried about me. Suggested I come for Maisie’s birthday and spend some time with him and his folks. And the idea of seeing Delaney again was a draw. Figured I’d take a mini vacation and have a rethink about where my life was heading. But your letter was waiting when we got back from the airport, and everything went to hell.
“We both assumed you were dead, given that the letter had been mailed days earlier, but we left right away. When we got to Asheville, we split up. Callum took the ERs, I went to the shelter you’d listed as your address. They wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t tell me anything. I was leaving when I saw you. I tackled you, you flailed around like a wild animal and hit your head. I dialed 911, and after the ambulance left, I called Callum. It was easy enough to check in on you at the hospital, and then Callum and I booked into a hotel and sat up all night. I convinced him to hire a lawyer, and we agreed Delaney would have to stay out of Maisie’s life, too. A clean break. Persuading him to leave you behind was an easy decision. I assumed you were a drug addict, you’d gone to spectacular lengths to reel Callum back in, and the last words you’d ever spoken to him were a threat against Maisie’s life.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “The last thing I told him was that I loved them.”
Jake twirled his empty Mason jar on the table. “You have no idea how hard he fought to hold things together after you disappeared, but when we found you in Asheville, he went to a dark place. I couldn’t leave him, he couldn’t cope without Delaney, and what did I have left in LA? So yeah, I threw you under the proverbial bus, along with the only real chance I had with your sister. But I was there for Callum and Maisie. The rest is window dressing.”
“And overnight, you gave up everything for your best friend? No one does that.”
“He offered me room and board, and I cast my eye to movie work in Wilmington, the Hollywood of the East.”
He smiled; she glared. “Not buying it. There’s more.”
“You really might want to reconsider that shot.” He stared at her. A penetrating look that told her nothing.
She topped up her glass. “Happy?”
“Did Callum ever tell you why he joined the swim team?”
Something malevolent clawed up her spine. She shook her head.
“It was my idea. I convinced him to join. And when I found him after the coach had . . . I made him a promise. That I would protect him. I’ve always protected him. It’s”—he gave a weird smile—“my best role.”
“I promised to protect Maisie when she was a baby, but we can’t always live up to our promises, Jake. Life intrudes.”
He threw back his tequila. “After my parents were killed in the car wreck, I didn’t want to move to Chapel Hill. My aunt didn’t want me any more than I wanted her, but there was no one else. The move was tough on both of us. I was acting out, she hated the disruption of me, and I was a disaster in school. I was teased for being dumb, for being an orphan, for being held back a year, for having a country accent. And on it went. But Callum, the class brainiac, was the other new kid. He always stood up for me. Looked out for me, and we became friends. Real friends. And thanks to him, I survived life as little orphan boy with auntie dearest. And how did I pay him back? I got him on the swim team.”
“You can’t blame yourself for what that bastard did to Cal.”
“Yeah, I can, and if you ever go hootin’ and hollerin’ to him or anyone with what I’m about to tell you, you’ll discover that I can be way nastier than you ever imagined. We agreed?”
She nodded, and Jake refilled his glass.
“Katie, please drink the shot. It’ll help.” His voice had softened. And when he looked up, his eyes were hooded.
She did as he asked, and the tequila burned.
“I could’ve stopped him.” Jake refilled her Mason jar. “But I didn’t say a word after it happened to me.”
“No. Not both of you.” Her hand flew to her mouth.
He watched, dry-eyed. How could he do that—not cry? She dug her thumb and index finger hard into her own eye sockets. When she finally lowered them to reach for her glass, her hand was shaking, her vision muddy.
“Rape doesn’t define me,” Jake said. “It’s not who I am. And my life is pretty damn fine. Mentoring kids and living in a one-bedroom rental property might not be enough for some people, but it’s my idea of heaven. Callum, though, I used to worry about him all the time. When you guys met, he was such an easy target. It’s the reason I never allowed myself to trust you. What you did was a good thing, encouraging him to tell Lilah.”
“How—how can you be okay with this?” She emptied her glass in one swallow. Burn, let tequila burn out the images.
“That meltdown I had on set? Turned out to be the best thing that happened to me apart from moving back here. I went to a therapist who diagnosed PTSD. He helped me put the abuse where it belongs. In my past. These days, I’m all about the present. I’d like to add the future, but I don’t even have a savings account.
“First time that asshole shoved his hand down my trunks, I thought I’d earned it. Thought it was punishment for underperforming in some stupid swim meet. I never expected anything good to happen in my life, so why should it matter if he made me feel dirty? But the male body has a way of responding all by itself, and Lord, did he praise me. My coach, the only adult whose opinion mattered, told me I was good at it. Sex. It’s always been the one thing I excelled at. So I let him do whatever he wanted. Again and again. Once, after I’d been bullied, I even sought him out.” Jake poured another drink.
“I was a kid with behavior issues. I didn’t think anyone would believe me, but if I’d spoken up, things might have been different for Callum. Different for you and Callum. But back then I was doing what I always did. Surviving. I started smoking weed, having outbursts. Punched a few walls, bashed my head into a school locker. The coach didn’t need to use any mindfuck games to isolate me. I did that all by myself. But targeting Callum was his big mistake.
“Know why he moved on to Callum? I’d gotten too old. That one-year age gap between us made all the difference.” Jake sneered. “When I found out he’d attacked Callum, I got mad. Real mad. I reckon anger’s what saved me. Turned the tables and gave me a chance to care about someone other than myself. I meant that promise I made him. Meant it like I’d never meant anything before, because I knew it was my fault.”
“You never confronted”—she struggled to get the words out—“the coach?”
“I got him fired. Went to the assistant coach and told him, in confidence, what had happened to me. I never mentioned Callum. Bastard didn’t believe me, and I had no proof. No bruises, I hadn’t fought back. All the classics. But I threatened to spread rumors, and the assistant coach had his eye on the top job. Didn’t want a scandal rocking the team. Yeah, we were that good for his career.” Jake’s voice was full of venom. “He said if I stayed quiet, he’d deal with it. Next day, the coach was gone, and he never had the chance to touch Callum again.” Jake reached out and began picking the label off the tequila bottle. “Callum and I quit the team a week later.”
“Cal doesn’t know any of this?”
“What, you think kids swap details? Sexual abuse doesn’t work that way. What little Cal told me the night I found him, he never repeated. This isn’t something you want to share, but my gut tells me you understand that. I’m hoping I’m right.”
She nodded.
“When I was a kid, I pretended it hadn’t happened. If I didn’t talk about it, if I didn’t own it, it wasn’t real. I built a wall around it so I could get to the next day, and the day after that. One day at a time, that’s how I made it, until I focused on helping Callum. Had he known, it wouldn’t have made any difference. It sure wouldn’t make a difference now. Watching out for him and Maisie, though, that was something I could do to make amends.”
The alcohol buzzed through her brain. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“Don’t make me regret it, darlin’. I’m like your old mutt, Ringo. I don’t behave too well when cornered.” Jake stood up. “Come on, set the table. We need food if we’re going to keep drinking.”
Katie sat on her hands. “I’m struggling to make sense of all this.”
“Drink enough of that tequila, and it’ll be a helluva lot easier. Listen, I didn’t tell you so you’d feel bad. I told you so you’d understand the last piece of our story and cut Callum some slack. Delaney too. Please don’t ask your sister about us. We all have enough guilt, and you and I can make sure it ends here.” He rubbed at his forehead as if trying to erase something. “What’s impressive is that between us we haven’t ruined Maisie.”
“Or maybe she’s the reason we’re all still functioning.”
He poured them both another drink. “I’m not set up for company, but if you don’t want to catch a cab home, you’re welcome to the bed. I’ll take the window seat. I’m one of those misfits who can sleep sitting up.”
She downed her third shot, which didn’t burn as much as the first two. Jake was right: alcohol, at least tonight, was the answer.
After she’d set the table, Jake placed a steaming plate of what he called Jake Surprise in front of her, explaining it was his version of Brunswick stew. While they ate and cleaned up, he filled her in on the missing Maisie years. And then the question snuck out all on its own.
The Promise Between Us Page 29