by Jill Shalvis
Levi stood up. “No one’s going back to bed. We need to talk, so everyone just take a deep breath and—”
“And what,” his dad growled. “Stare at the stupid PowerPoint some more?”
“Hank!” This from his mom.
“Yes, I want you to look at the PowerPoint,” Levi said as calmly as he could. He clicked over to the next slide. “Here you’ll see I’ve created a five-step plan for how to get the store out of debt.”
Dad stood up. “No offense, son, but I’m not going to find the answers on how to get my store back on its feet by watching a slide show from a tech guy.”
“Dad, you know he’s more than a tech guy,” Tess said with censure in her voice. “He consults with businesses on how to manage their data, and—”
Their dad shook his head. “This isn’t about data either.”
“Hank, stop taking this out on Levi,” his mom snapped at her husband. “He’s just trying to help.”
His dad was quiet a moment. Ran a hand down his face. “You’re right.” He looked Levi in the eyes with sincere remorse. “We appreciate what you’ve done. I just need a minute.” He took another shot and walked out.
Levi let out a rough breath. This isn’t about you, he reminded himself. His dad was battling his own ego. Cal had stolen money out from beneath the guy’s nose, and that wasn’t going to sit well.
His mom patted him on the arm. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he loves you very much. We’re grateful for your help, but I better go check on him. When he gets worked up like this, it’s bad for his blood pressure.”
When they were alone, Levi turned to his sister. “Dad has blood pressure problems?”
“Dad’s got a lot of problems.” She got up and patted him like his mom had done. She left too, and a moment later he heard the shower go on in her bathroom.
Levi looked at his PowerPoint, which for the record still had ten pages left to go on the plan that would’ve shown them how he could help fix some of the most immediate problems.
Square peg, round hole.
He eyed the vodka. Tempting. But there was a cure far better than alcohol, and her name was Jane. He wanted nothing more than to go drown himself in her pretty green eyes and the smile that made him forget all the bad shit. But at the moment, he had another woman waiting, one he couldn’t disappoint.
Peyton beamed her welcome when he appeared in her doorway, and Levi felt a slight warming in the region of his cold heart. “I don’t have a superhero costume. May I still come in?”
“Yes! And here, I’ll help you.” She pulled off her sash and wrapped it around his head like a bandanna. “Sit!” she commanded.
So he sat at her tiny little table in a chair that barely fit half his ass. But he made it work and drank her pretend tea and ate her pretend cookies, and they plotted how Superwoman might save the world if she was real.
JUST AFTER NIGHTFALL, Levi was on a Zoom call with clients when his cell phone buzzed an incoming text from Jane.
JANE: I’m stuck and could use some help.
He immediately got out of his meeting and called her. “Jane.”
“Yep.”
She sounded not at all like herself. “Where are you?” he asked.
Silence.
“Jane?”
“I’ll text you the address.”
Yeah, definitely not herself, and maybe even tearful. His gut clenched. “Are you safe?”
But she’d disconnected.
He recognized the street name she’d given him, so he headed out. The night seemed to glow thanks to the reflection of moonlight bouncing off the snow. Just outside of Sunrise Cove, he turned and headed up a hill from the lake. Here the streets were narrow thanks to thick snow berms on either side, some single file only because they’d barely been snowplowed. He shifted into four-wheel drive and kept going.
A handful of turns and five minutes later, he saw Jane’s car. Dark. No lights. He parked behind her and got out, realizing she was sitting behind the wheel. He slid into her front passenger seat. “Why wasn’t this locked?”
She let out a mirthless laugh and tipped her head back, staring up at the roof of her car. “There’s not a lot of people who would ask me that.”
“Then I’ll make sure to keep asking.” He reached out and let his fingertips brush the nape of her neck, wanting to comfort, but also not wanting to push her before she was ready. “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, she closed her eyes. “I’m short on brave tonight. You got any to spare?”
“You can have any of me you want.” Or all of me . . . “You said you were stuck.”
“I think my battery’s dead.”
“That’s easy enough.” He looked around. “Where are we?”
“Up that steep driveway is my grandpa’s cabin.”
And with that, he finally understood. She was going to go talk to her grandpa for the first time in twenty years. “You’ve got this, Jane.”
That got him a ragged but real laugh. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”
Now he laughed, thinking of his family and how they might disagree. But Jane, a woman who didn’t have a lot of reasons to trust anyone, trusted him. It had a warm glow filling his chest. “I never know the right thing to say.”
She turned her head, met his gaze, and gave him a small smile. “You just get lucky?”
Her smile turned his heart upside down. “Once in a blue moon.”
Chapter 17
Jane drew a deep breath at the way Levi was looking at her. Like she meant something to him, like she was important, at least enough to drive out in a storm for her. She’d texted him instinctively, not even thinking about it, which was a statement all on its own about how much she trusted him. And he’d shown up, no questions asked. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Happy to help.”
She nodded. “Happy,” she repeated softly and then shook her head. “I think I’ve had a problem letting myself be happy.”
“Cherophobia.”
She looked at him. “What?”
“It’s the fear of being happy.”
She laughed and felt some of the tension drain from her. “Thanks for that too, for always knowing what to say to brighten my day.”
He smiled. “But it’s night.”
“You know what I mean.”
His smile faded. “I do. And you should know . . . you do the same for me.” He pulled off his ski cap and unzipped his jacket, even though the interior of her car was cold. She’d turned it off half an hour ago to save gas.
Then he put the ski cap on her head, wrapped her up in his jacket, and zipped it up to her chin, letting his fingers brush her jaw. “Better?”
Okay, so he had a question, but only one, and with that single word, uttered in his low, calm voice that said together they could handle anything, she knew that somehow it was going to be okay. “Yes.” And not just because she was now enveloped in his body heat, but also because his scent was teasing her. Something woodsy and very male. “I need to go talk to my grandpa about the ornament.”
He nodded, clearly not wanting to influence her on this, trusting her to be a grown-up. Which meant that she needed to actually be a grown-up.
They both looked up the driveway to the small old cabin at the top. A light flickered in the kitchen, her favorite kitchen in the whole wide world. Some of the best memories of her life had taken place there. The place had always seemed warm, and there’d been copious amounts of hot chocolate made with love, complete with marshmallows. “I’ve been avoiding this a long time,” she murmured.
“I know. Just a reminder, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But—”
Very gently, he set a finger to her lips. “You didn’t, Jane. No one in their right mind would blame an eight-year-old who was at the mercy of her relatives after her parents walked away from her.”
She closed her eyes, then felt Levi’s hand slip into hers. Even without his jacket an
d hat, he was warm and solid. Her only anchor at the moment.
“Will he be alone?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Near as I can tell, my aunt Viv sold her house here in Sunrise Cove a bunch of years back. Word is her husband got a job on the East Coast and they all moved there.”
Levi raised his right, scarred brow.
“Yeah,” she said on a laugh. “I’ve got some excellent stalking skills.”
“Good riddance. Come here, Jane.”
She leaned in closer, but apparently that wasn’t close enough because he hauled her up and over the console, effortlessly dropping her into his lap.
“What—”
He wrapped his deliciously warm arms around her and cuddled her into him.
“Mmm,” she heard herself purr and pressed her face to his throat.
He dipped his head so he could meet her gaze, but she didn’t know how to take the way he looked at her. Like he cared. Like he wanted to hurt someone for what she’d been through. Like he wanted to touch her. She’d honestly expected him to recoil from her history, from how screwed up she was. Instead, he’d done the opposite.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, his calloused thumb making slow sweeps over the knuckles of her hand.
Still with her face in the crook between his throat and shoulder, she just breathed him in for a moment. “I want to run away,” she admitted. “Just like I always do. But I need to go talk to him.”
“I’ll go with you if you want.”
The offer surprised and warmed her from tip to toe, and she squeezed him before lifting her head. “Just knowing you would helps. But I think I’ve got to do this alone. I’m sorry I called you out here before I did this.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll wait. As long as you need.”
She let out a breath, not taking that promise lightly. She wasn’t sure how or when they’d become friends for real or when he’d become so important to her, but she felt grateful for him. “Thanks,” she whispered, inadequate but all she could think of in the moment. She reached for the door handle, then hesitated, her heart pounding in her ears.
“Quick like a Band-Aid,” he said quietly.
She snorted. “Do you and your family ever stop speaking to each other?”
He laughed, drawing her eyes. He was genuinely amused. “All the time. They mean well, but I’m very different from them, and different is sometimes hard to accept.”
She pressed her forehead to his. “I like different.”
“For which I’m grateful. You’ve got this, Jane.”
She eyed the little cabin. “You sure?”
“Hey, you survived a near-fatal fall from a gondola. You regularly put yourself in war zones to save people’s lives. You agreed to go to dinner with my crazy family. Trust me, you can handle this. Either way, I’ll be waiting right here.”
With a wobbly smile, she nodded, drew a deep breath, got out of the car, and walked up to the front door and knocked.
She wasn’t sure what she planned to say, and the door opened far too soon, because suddenly her grandpa was standing there, squinting at her through bifocals perched on the end of his nose. He gasped, put a hand to his chest, and whispered, “Sugar Plum?”
She hadn’t been sure what she would feel when face-to-face with him, and she still wasn’t beyond the slight nausea of all the butterflies taking flight in her belly. “Hi, Grandpa.”
His smile was trembling and there was a suspicious shininess to his eyes now as he reached for her hand. “You’re actually here.”
“Is that okay?”
At her question, a shadow passed over his face, but his voice, trembling before, was strong now. “Yes. More than anything. I’m sorry if you doubted it for even a second.”
“There were more than a few seconds,” she said, not willing to let herself be moved by his obvious emotions at seeing her.
“I deserve that,” he said quietly. “Can . . . can I hug you, Jane?”
The eight-year-old in her spoke before the grown-up in her could, whispering yes.
He pulled her into his arms and pressed his cheek to hers. “Thank you,” he said, holding on tight. “You’re so much braver than I’ve ever been.”
Leaving that statement alone for now, she pulled back. “You smell the same.”
“It’s mothballs.”
She choked out a laugh as his gaze searched hers. “Did you get it?”
She pulled the ornament from her pocket.
“You carry it with you.” He looked unbearably touched by that. “Come in, come in, before you catch your death!”
She followed him past the well-lived-in front room she remembered so vividly. She’d bounced on that very couch, huddled up to the woodstove for heat after playing in the snow. “It’s the same,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “I like the same.” He brought her into the kitchen. “Let me make us something warm to drink. Sit.”
She sat at the same scarred wood table where she’d memorized her multiplication tables and learned how to write in cursive. She could see the small burn she’d created when she knocked over one of her grandma’s candles. And the Sharpie mark she’d accidentally left doing a school assignment.
Her grandpa brought her hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream. “My favorite.”
“I know.” He hesitated. “I bought it the day I saw you watching me in the diner. I was stunned to see you, and . . .” His eyes went misty. “At first I was certain you were my imagination playing tricks on me. But then I saw you were wearing your grandma’s necklace.” He gave her a small smile. “And I knew. I knew it was you, even after all these years.”
“I saw you too.”
“Ah. I wasn’t sure. You took off pretty quickly, and I knew after what I’d done, that I had to give you the time you deserved to decide if you wanted to see me.”
Her throat felt tight. It’d been two years since she’d found him in Sunrise Cove, and she’d hesitated to make contact. For her own reasons, of course, and she knew those reasons were valid. But he’d seen her what, a week ago, and hadn’t hesitated. Food for thought. “What you did?”
He looked away as if ashamed. “I let you go, Jane.” He met her eyes again, and indeed, it was shame swimming in his rheumy blues. “I’ve never forgiven myself for that.” He studied her for a beat. “I have a lot to make up for, but I want you to know that I’ve been dreaming of a second chance with you. I started with the ornament. It was a blatant bribe, but also a way to approach you without your feeling forced into something you weren’t ready for.”
She searched for the right words, but were there any? “I’m glad you made contact,” she said carefully. “I always figured that if you’d wanted to see me after all that had happened, you’d get in touch.”
“After all that happened?”
“You know, when you and Viv fought over me and it destroyed your relationship.”
He looked stricken. “How do you know that?”
“She told me about it back then, how keeping me would have been too hard on you.”
He sighed. Scrubbed a hand over his face. “She shouldn’t have told you that. The truth is, Viv and I always fought. That wasn’t your fault, Jane.”
“It felt like it.”
He drew a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for that. So sorry. Please believe me, none of it was your fault.” He paused. “Do you remember what I used to tell you?”
“That Santa Claus was real? Which, by the way . . .”
That got her a small smile. “I meant when I once told you that family is blood. I was wrong. Family, real family, has nothing to do with blood. Family is who you pick. And I’ve not done a bang-up job of it with you. Your aunt Viv, and for that matter, also your mom . . . they are who they are. I’m angry that I allowed them to sabotage our relationship, that Viv made you feel like not only were you a burden, but that you weren’t wanted. But mostly I’m angry with myself that I didn’t come to you years ago. I don’t even have an e
xcuse other than shame. You have no reason to believe me, but I want you to know you are my family, Jane. The family that I’m choosing. Maybe it’s too little too late, but you should know that I’m ashamed I waited so long to try and connect with you. Ashamed, and so very, very sorry. But I choose you. If you’ll have me.”
Jane lost the battle with her tears, as did her grandpa. They moved toward each other and held on tight for a long moment while she grappled with her emotions.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “And the answer doesn’t have to be yes.”
“That’s good, because I’m not sure how I am.” She sniffed and gave a slow shake of her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can accept your not being sure. It’s better than a flat-out no.” He looked out the window. “Do you want to talk about that handsome young fellow waiting out in the cold?”
Nope. Definitely not. She shook her head.
“Sugar Plum.” He removed his fogged-up glasses to wipe them on his sweater. “It’s twenty-two degrees outside.”
And she was wearing his jacket and hat . . . “I can’t stay.”
He nodded his acceptance of that. “Maybe next time then, you’ll let him come in.”
Was there going to be a next time? She hadn’t been sure, but now she was feeling maybe having a next time might be good. “Maybe.”
He smiled, still looking emotional. And tired. And damn, older than she wanted him to be.
“When?” he asked. “I want to write it down because if my memory gets any worse, I could plan my own surprise party.”
“Maybe we could have dinner one night after work.”
“You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there,” he said.
She nodded and then put her contact info into his phone, which made him beam so happily it gave her a hard pang. “I’m going to go before Family Feud comes on, which you used to always watch after your stretching routine. You still do that, right?”
“Yes. It’s a doctor requirement now, ever since . . .” He broke off. “Er . . .”
“Since your heart attack?”
Her grandpa winced guiltily. “You know about that?”
“Yes. Your cronies are all on Facebook. They posted pics visiting you in the hospital.”