Jett Read online

  “Homemade spaghetti,” I tell him. “Been slaving on it all day.”

  “Really?” he asks incredulously.

  I look over my shoulder at him, rolling my eyes with a snicker. “No, not really. I barely had time to throw a jar of sauce in the pan when I got home from work.”

  Jett laughs and assures me, “I’m sure it will be the best spaghetti ever.”

  ♦

  “Breaking something,” Jett yells, his butt on the edge of the couch.

  Felicity is standing opposite him on the other side of the table. She nods furiously at him, miming holding something in her hands, and well… breaking something.

  “Breaking a stick,” Jett guesses.

  Felicity shakes her head.

  “Breaking a carrot,” he blurts out in excitement.

  Felicity rolls her eyes. She then mimes holding something in one hand and stirring with the other.

  Clapping his hands with confidence, Jett proclaims, “Cleaning a toilet bowl.”

  I snort and Felicity stops all movement, putting her hands on her hips and staring at Jett as if that was the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.

  “Time’s up,” Jenna announces.

  Jett slumps back onto the couch next to me, scratching at his cropped hair in defeat.

  “It was scrambled eggs,” Felicity chastises. “How could you think I was cleaning a toilet bowl?”

  Jett shrugs helplessly and looks to me for help.

  I shake my head. “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who picked her as a partner. Besides that, you’re still beating Jenna and I by two points.”

  “That’s right,” Jett drawls with a smirk. He jumps off the couch, starts shaking his butt, and Felicity does the same. “Oh, yeah. We’re bad. We’re bad.”

  Felicity mimics him and they both look like fools.

  The best kind, of course.

  “Okay, our turn,” Jenna says primly, picking a card. The children’s version of a charades game has been sitting in my linen closet for weeks since you need four people to play, and tonight has been the first opportunity. Felicity brought it out, prepared to beg Jett to stay and play, but he needed no encouragement. He’s like a big kid himself and of course his spirit of competition is shining through.

  Jenna tosses the card down and stands from the end chair. Felicity takes her place to watch.

  Looking to me with a serious expression, Jenna asks, “You ready to do this? We need this point.”

  “I’m ready,” I reply with a firm nod, moving my butt to the edge of the couch to watch my sister.

  Jett leans in a little toward me and whispers, “You are both going down.”

  I backhand his arm in mock irritation, and he makes a big, exaggerated yelp, falling back again. Felicity thinks it’s hilarious and breaks out in giggles.

  “Ignore these two buffoons,” I instruct Jenna as I take the timer in hand, ready to turn it over. “I’m ready.”

  Just as she raises her arms to start acting out whatever was on her card, there’s a knock on the front door. Since Jenna is standing and closest, she says, “I’ll get it.”

  Jett immediately scoots to the end of the couch closest to Felicity and leans toward her. They whisper conspiratorially, no doubt honing their strategy to bring home the win. I can’t help but smile as I watch, because never in a million years did I envision Jett would be in my home playing charades with me, my sister, and my daughter.

  “Emory,” Jenna says from the door. She’s got her hand on the knob and it’s not all the way closed, which indicates there’s still someone out on the porch. Jenna’s face looks almost green and a chill races down my spine. “It’s for you.”

  Jett breaks off in mid-conversation, proving he can multi-task by listening to my daughter while still keeping attention on me. I give him a small smile as I stand from the couch and move to the front door.

  When I reach Jenna, she whispers in a voice so low, only I can hear it. “It’s Shane.”

  My blood turns ice-cold even as my hands sweat. “Shit,” I whisper back. I glance over at Jett, and he has Felicity occupied. There’s no way I’m inviting him in.

  Taking in a breath, I tell Jenna, “I’ve got this. Keep them both occupied, okay?”

  “Okay,” she murmurs and turns away.

  I open the door and step out onto the porch, the yellow sconced light casting a soft glow on my ex-husband as he stands three feet away.

  Shutting the door, I punch my hands down into my pockets. A purely defensive move. “What are you doing here?”

  Shane looks different. Healthy even. His body has filled out some, mostly noticeable in his face which had been quite gaunt the last time I’d seen him. Face freshly shaven, dark hair trimmed and those hazel eyes rimmed by the thickest lashes looking nervous and contrite.

  He lifts a hand, rubs at the back of his neck as his gaze falls away for a moment before finally having the guts to come back to mine. “I was um… hoping to see Felicity.”

  “You have no right,” I remind him.

  “No,” he says almost apologetically. “I mean… yeah, I understand that. I want to do this legally, of course. However you think is best.”

  My voice shakes with fury. “It’s been almost two years and I’ve not heard a word from you. And now you just want to show up and see Felicity.”

  “She’s my daughter, Emory,” he reminds me.

  I take a few steps toward him, and as I get closer I note that his face is more lined than it was before and he has some gray starting at the temples. Shane is ten years older than me, but even at thirty-eight, he shouldn’t look so worn.

  It’s the drugs that will do that though.

  “Are you clean?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” he replies, a tone of pride in his voice. “Just over four months.”

  I already knew the answer to that. He looks too healthy to be using. He looks like the man I married almost eight years ago, minus the graying hair.

  “How did you even find me?” I ask, an unnecessary question but I don’t know what else to say right now. In a million years, I never thought I’d see Shane again. I thought he was gone for good.

  “My parents said you took a job in Phoenix. A quick Google search and I found you on the Vengeance website. Another quick search, found your property tax records.”

  “And you couldn’t call first?” I snap at him. “This isn’t cool you just showing up like this.”

  “I know,” he says assuredly, and then repeats, “I know. I just thought you’d hang up on me or wouldn’t return my call. I figured you’d be forced to talk to me if I came here. I know it’s rude, but I’m very serious about reestablishing my relationship with Felicity.”

  “It can’t be tonight,” I tell him. I’d need time to prepare her. Explain things. “And… I need to call my attorney.”

  Shane bobs his head in acknowledgment. “I would appreciate that.”

  “This is going to be hard for her,” I murmur.

  He takes that in the wrong way, and I see a little of the arrogance that he used to possess when he was an esteemed, tenured professor at UCLA, where we met. “I have rights, Emory. My parents have retained an attorney for me as well.”

  “I’m not stupid, Shane,” I snap at him, and then take a step back. “But I have rights, too and I intend to protect Felicity. You may be entitled to come back into her life, but we’re going to do it in the way that’s least traumatizing to her.”

  He drops his gaze for a moment, then fishes into his pocket. He holds a piece of paper torn from a small notepad out to me. “That’s my cell phone number. Call me as soon as you’re able to talk to your attorney and we can come to some type of agreement.”

  “Where are you staying?” I ask as I take the paper and shove it into my pocket.

  “The Orion downtown,” he replies.

  “I’ll call as soon as I talk to my attorney,” I promise him.

  “Okay, thanks,” he says brightly, a smile breaking wide o
n his face. “How have you been doing, Emory? You look great.”

  Shane might be clean, but that statement right there means I can’t trust his priorities. “I’d think you’d much rather know about your daughter than me.” The sneer in my tone is cold and bitter. “What I am is your ex-wife and thus none of your business.”

  “Right,” he says softly, duly chastened and put in his place. “Of course. How is Felicity?”

  I’m pissed she’s an afterthought, so I don’t bother to give him an answer. “I’ll call you after I talk to my attorney,” I say instead, reaching back for the doorknob. He nods but makes no move to leave. “Don’t come back here uninvited, Shane.”

  “Understood,” he replies and finally pivots on his foot. He jogs down the three steps, to my sidewalk and out to a car parked on the side of the road.

  My legs turn shaky all of a sudden and I lean back against the door until he pulls away. I use that time to try to get my nerves back under control and hope to hell I can figure out how to explain the sudden reappearance of her dad to Felicity.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jett

  I wait for Emory to come back into the living room. After she came inside from talking to whoever was out there, we finished the game of charades. Felicity and I were supreme champions.

  After that, Jenna made a big deal about getting Felicity ready for bed and I assumed that was to give Emory and I alone time. I have absolutely no expectations of what the rest of the night will hold past her coming back in here and walking me to the door for a good night kiss. Pretty sure sex in her house with her kid down the hall is a non-starter, and not one I’m all that interested in anyway. It would be a bit weird.

  At any rate, I can tell something is off. Emory had this vibe when she came back inside that I can’t quite put my finger on. She put on a good front and the last five minutes of charades she was laughing and teasing and acting silly like we all had before.

  But her face was a little pinched and her shoulders were stiff. She clasped her hands in her lap so tightly sometimes that her knuckles went white.

  While Emory went back with Jenna and Felicity to kiss her daughter goodnight, I picked up the charades cards and put them back in the box, then took the empty drink glasses into the kitchen where I placed them in the sink.

  By the time I made it back to the couch, Emory was walking into the living room. I remained standing, ready for her to bid me good night, and more than ready to sit back down if she wanted to hang out for a bit.

  She ended up making a sweeping motion toward the couch with her hand, indicating for me to sit down. I did but she didn’t follow. Instead, she stood on the other side of the coffee table, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  She looks pained, as if she needs to share something abhorrent with me. “Remember when I told you I didn’t want complications in my life?”

  “Yeah,” I drawl slowly, wondering if I’ve somehow become complicated because I stayed for family charades.

  “Well, a past complication has caught up with me,” she mutters, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

  It’s pure intuition and nothing else driving my guess. “Your ex-husband?”

  Her eyes flare wide that I nailed it, but she pushes the surprise aside and nods. “That was him at the door. Shane.”

  She didn’t invite him inside and I have no clue if that’s because things were left bad between them or because she had her new guy she’s dating inside. Before I can hazard why, she starts pacing and growls. “It’s been two years since I’ve heard from that bastard. And now he wants to come waltzing back into Felicity’s life like nothing happened. It’s ridiculous. She’s worked hard to get over the pain of him disappearing, and now he’s going to cause her so much turmoil. And he just expects me to be okay with this. I mean… how selfish is that?”

  Emory ends that last statement by stopping in her tracks and turning to face me. I have no answer for her as I’m lost.

  Utterly lost.

  She must be able to read that on my face because she sighs, her face tense with apology. “I’m sorry. You have no clue what I’m talking about.”

  I pat the cushion beside me. “How about you stop pacing and come tell me all about it?”

  Emory sighs again but looks relieved at my offer. She rounds the coffee table and sits on the cushion next to me, except she curls her legs in and turns her body so that her knees are on my thigh. It puts us close together which I sense she needs, but I keep my hands to myself. I don’t want to distract her from telling the full story.

  Eyebrows knitting inward, she holds her breath and asks, “Are you sure you really want to hear all this? I mean… you wanted uncomplicated too.”

  That was true once upon a time, but not now. “Remember… I’m invested now, same as you. So spill.”

  The air in her lungs rushes out in an exhale of relief and she gives me a weak smile. “Let me just start at the beginning. I met Shane during my junior year at UCLA. He was one of my professors and was ten years older than me. We had an illicit affair—illicit in that professors were forbidden from dating students—but it ended up getting really serious. He proposed during my senior year and we were married four months later. It was all very secretive and only our immediate family knew. We knew we could go public after I graduated.”

  I think I do a good job of keeping my features bland, but I’m shocked as hell Emory had an affair with an older man who happened to be one of her professors.

  “I got pregnant right before graduation and Felicity was born. For a few years, we had a great life. Shane continued to teach at UCLA and I got a job in digital marketing there. Nothing fancy, but it was a good foot-in-the-door kind of thing. And all was well.”

  “Until it wasn’t,” I guess.

  Emory shakes her head, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. “Shane got injured while skiing. It was bad and he broke two of the vertebrae in his back. He wasn’t paralyzed but it was serious enough it took almost half a year of serious rehab to get him fully functioning again, except I didn’t realize what was keeping him functioning was the pain pills he’d been prescribed.”

  I hold back the rumble of dismay in my chest.

  “It was bad,” she continues on. “His addiction was well hidden at first, but then it got out of control. His doctors would no longer prescribe for him, so he got street drugs. He depleted our savings buying the stuff and eventually got arrested in a drug sting although the charges were eventually dropped. His parents paid for a very good attorney.”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “This went on for a couple of years, and I stood by his side. He got reprimanded by the school, was in and out of rehab with relapses.”

  “But you didn’t leave him,” I surmise. “You stood by his side.”

  “For the longest time I did,” she admits. “There were times where he put forth great effort to kick his habit. There were times he was an utter disappointment to me. But then came a moment where I knew I couldn’t keep going on, and I had a daughter to think about.”

  “Something happened?” I ask, knowing she’s going to tell me and it’s going to piss me off.

  “In hindsight, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but at the time it was. It was enough to make me call it quits.” She falls silent a moment, gathering her thoughts as her gaze seems to go unfocused. But she comes back after a moment, giving me a wan smile. “It was about a month after Jenna’s fire. I’d spent the day at the hospital and had come home to find Shane high and passed out on the living room floor. He had been sober for two months and had been doing really well. There he was sprawled out on the floor, drooling. Our five-year-old daughter sitting on the couch just watching cartoons and I’d like to believe she was oblivious to what was wrong with him.”

  “I’m sure she was,” I reassure her, but I really don’t know how intuitive kids are.

  “I was livid. I woke him up, yelling at him to
get his stuff and get out of the house. It started a huge fight, and he was so stoned, he wasn’t making any sense. And… and… he’d never so much as ever raised a hand to me, but he just all of a sudden slapped me in the face. It was so hard, and I wasn’t expecting it so I fell to the ground. Felicity flipped out, was screaming and crying. Shane was yelling and ranting. It was the most awful night of my life.”

  “What happened?” My voice is hoarse, loathing the images in my mind she just described.

  “I called the police. He was out of control. They made him leave and Felicity and I moved to my parents’ house the very next morning. I filed formal divorce papers the next week.”

  Holy shit, that’s a story. And one I never would have expected. Emory seems so put together I can’t imagine her tying herself to someone so destructive. But what do I know… I’ve never had a serious relationship. I most certainly have never had a child to think of.

  “And you haven’t seen him in two years?” I ask.

  “Not really,” she murmurs, settling back on the cushion a little. She seems worn out after reliving that nightmare. “Over the next year, he jumped in and out of rehab. Lost his job at UCLA. The court allowed supervised visitation which he only showed up for half the time. The times he showed up, he was sober. The times he didn’t, I knew he was high somewhere. By the time the divorce was granted, he’d been in the wind for several months. His parents didn’t even know where he was. It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen or heard from him. Until tonight that is.”

  Reaching out, I take Emory’s hand in mine. It’s cold and I enfold it with my other hand as well to warm her up. “What does he want?”

  “I have no clue. He’s definitely sober tonight and says he’s been that way a few months now. But that means nothing to me. He’s never gone more than three or four months.”

  “He wants to see Felicity?” I guess.

  She nods, tipping her head to rest it on my shoulder. “I need to call my attorney tomorrow and figure things out. I don’t want to keep him from her if he’s sober. But I also know he’ll end up falling off the wagon again too. We’ll have to come up with some agreement.”