Chapter Twenty
Jase
I woke before the alarm, face pressed to Tyler’s hair, my arm thrown over her waist. I flexed my hand, drawing her into me.
With her back where she belonged, I could breathe, even as a wave of gratitude warmed me head to toe.
Eyes closed, I nuzzled her temple, and she stretched, snuggling into me with a sigh.
I wanted this every day for the rest of our lives.
We didn’t have to know where those days would land – we’d decided the night before that we didn’t have to have all the answers yet – but I needed those days to land with her.
Rolling over, she flung an arm across my neck and pressed her lips to my collarbone.
I smiled against her hair, our troubles far away in these quiet moments together. “Good morning, sugar.”
“Hey.” She kissed the hollow at the base of my neck. Eyes closed, I simply held her, letting the warmth of her seep all through me. She stiffened and leaned away. “Oh.”
My lids flew open, dread settling dead center of my chest. Had she changed her mind? It hadn’t seemed like it the night before, her legs around my hips while I thrust into her but—
“Oh my God.” She scrambled from the bed, a hand over her mouth, and dashed for the bathroom. The awful retching followed moments later, and I winced. She hadn’t been sick much, especially since she was through the first trimester, but when she was, she was sick.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I followed, relief warring with concern.
“Baby, I'm sorry.” Hunkering beside her, I held her hair back, rubbing her neck with my other hand. Her body shook with each heave, and I pressed my forehead to her shoulder. I hated seeing her sick or upset.
I stayed with her until it passed, then handed her water to rinse while I brushed a warm, damp cloth over her face. We'd figured out quick that brushing her teeth right after made it worse, but water was okay.
Cupping her jaw, I rubbed my thumb over her cheek. “I'm gonna get you some ginger ale. Toast or crackers?”
“Crackers.” With a grimace, she dried her mouth and moved toward the door. “Do we have any grapes?”
“Yeah.” Those seemed to help, so I kept them on hand just in case. I followed her up the hall toward the kitchen. “Of course.”
In the kitchen, I poured her a glass of ginger ale and grabbed the grapes while she rummaged for the crackers. Once she was set up at the table, I started a pot of coffee and my own breakfast.
Watching butter melt in the cast iron skillet, I let myself touch on what needed to be done. Elizabeth loved to avoid anything hard and she was mad. I couldn't count on her to set up the paternity test – which I needed because I couldn't count on her, period – so I'd need a lawyer.
I cracked a couple of eggs, whites turning opaque in the hot butter. I glanced sideways at Tyler, who had one foot tucked under her in the chair while she took cautious sips of soda.
“I need a lawyer. You know, to navigate my way through this.” I didn't want to speak out loud what this was. She was with me, but I didn’t want to jinx anything either. Might be a minute before I could let myself relax. “I'll call Scott Barlow, see how fast I can get in to see him.”
Tyler paused, glass halfway to her lips. She set it down. “About that.”
With a quizzical look at her, I flipped my eggs and waited.
“So I, um, talked to him the other day after I spent the night at Maggie's.” She seemed uncomfortable, her gaze darting up to mine then away. Her mouth thinned to a tight line before she met my eyes again, defiance lighting hers. “My initial reaction was to divorce you.”
Butter splattered on my wrist, not stinging as much as those words. I nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
It wasn't, but what could I say? Shit, that meant I'd have to find another lawyer and he was the only one I knew. Anybody else would be Daddy's age—
“I'll call him once his office opens.” Tyler's quiet voice interrupted my jumpy thoughts. “Tell him it's okay to take you on as a client.”
With another nod, I flipped my eggs onto a plate, my appetite decimated. Pretty sure if I tried to eat that, I'd be the one hugging the toilet.
“Really, he'll be taking us on as clients.” Again, Tyler drew my attention. She shrugged, a tentative smile playing about her lips. “Because we're in this together.”
The spatula clattered on the counter. I came around the island to where she sat and hit my knees next to her chair all over again. Arms around her, I buried my face against her neck. With a soft laugh, a little shaky but real, she filtered her fingers through my hair.
And for the first time in days, since Elizabeth had shown up in that muddy field and sent my life sideways, I let myself breathe.
By the time I made it to Scott Barlow's office, I was filthy. Hannah gave me the onceover, but didn’t say anything.
She’d been around farming long enough to know it was hard, dirty work.
I’d knocked off as much dust and dirt as I could and my hands were clean, but the smell of fresh-turned soil and diesel clung to me.
Scott didn’t bat an eye, simply waved me to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He was a year older than me, kind of an ass, but he was good people.
“So I have a little idea what’s going on after talking to your wife the other day.” He flipped to a fresh page on his legal pad then flicked a sharp glance at me. “Want to tell me the whole thing?”
I cleared my throat, back of my neck burning.
He had to see messier stuff than this all the time — I mean he’d handled Shane’s side of his and Krista’s divorce and he'd probably been Tick Calvert’s lawyer when he discovered he had a little girl he didn't know about since they were buddies – but this was my life we were talking about.
Hatcher men were known to be reliable, good husbands and fathers, and look at the mess I was in.
“Elizabeth's pregnant.” I learned forward, hands linked, elbows braced on my knees. I fiddled with my wedding band, twisting it around my finger. “She says I'm the father.”
“That possible?”
I lifted my head to meet his impassive gaze. “We were together eight years, so yeah.”
He jotted something down, lips pursed on a low whistle. “Man, what were you thinking?”
Anger burned down my nape. “Are you always an asshole?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “What does she want?”
“Me to marry her.”
He snorted. “Bet she was fit to be tied when you told her you already were.”
A frisson moved down my spine, icy under the embarrassment and irritation. Elizabeth was unpredictable under the best of circumstances. “Yeah.”
He flicked another glance up at me, and I shrugged.
“She said I'd be sorry.”
“Really.” He made another note, and this time the small noise he made dripped disdain. “That little girl has serious delusions of power.”
“Because she didn't have any when she was little.” The words spilled before I realized I'd thought them. “You know, her mama and daddy's mess.”
I darted a look at the door toward where Hannah was working on something at her desk with her headphones in.
Hannah had grown up in that, too, but she hadn’t turned out vindictive and wanting to hurt people.
Maybe because she’d been older, so she’d had less time with their mama and more time with their daddy.
Ted wasn’t the best parent, but at least he wasn’t a narcissist, either. Scott waited, simply watching me.
“She wants attention. Validation.” I ran a hand over my hair, scuffed my nape. “But it wasn't enough just from me. That channel . . . and then there was power that came with it. You saw what she did to Hannah.”
“I did.” He nodded, a slow, considering dip of his chin. Hannah had this job with him because he’d witnessed that. This place had become a refuge, helping her rebuild.
“Her mama will have a fit if she's having a baby outside of marriage.” Although a string of affairs outside of marriage was okay.
Had to keep up those appearances, though.
My stomach sank. If that baby was mine .
. . Patricia would be grandma. How was I going to counteract that, with occasional visitation? At my mama and daddy's?
Shit.
Fuck.
I scrubbed a hand down my face.
“What do you want?” Scott asked quietly.
I sucked in a harsh breath, thinking hard. “Firstly to know if it's mine.”
His pen scratched on his pad.
“Then... “ My brain hit a brick wall. I'd never considered a life where I wasn't in the house with my kids every day, being a daddy. I didn’t know how to envision that.
And what the hell kind of mama was Elizabeth going to be? Not the Elizabeth I'd first known, the one who loved her sisters and loved me, the one who was a little spoiled, yeah, but had loved on her newborn niece and . . .
That Elizabeth didn't exist anymore, I didn't think, had been drowned out by influences that stoked dreams of power and ambition and dangled crowns of likes and views in front of her. That Elizabeth could have been tender and loving with a child.
The Elizabeth I knew now, the one I’d stepped away from?
That one had nothing to offer but gall.
Scott waited, and I shook my head.
“Then I don’t know.”
“Maybe you don’t have to yet.” Scott tapped his pen on the pad. “One step at a time. Confirm paternity, then go from there. Gives you an opportunity to consult with your wife.”
My shoulders sagged. “Yeah.”
He leaned back in his big chair, leather creaking. “We can talk about some options—“
“Jase.” Hannah spoke from the doorway, her voice low and troubled. Unease tickled up my spine. She ventured into the room, phone in hand. She flicked an unhappy gaze between us. “You need to see this.”
Frowning, I held out my hand, but she didn’t give me the phone.
“Tate called. One of his guys follows Elizabeth online plus he has an Off-Record account.” Apology lurked in her hesitant explanation. She gripped the device, fingers white with the pressure.
Off-Record? I mean, I knew what it was, one of those sites where ordinary people put up homemade porn for money, but why was Tate calling Hannah about that? And what did it have to do with Elizabeth?
Surely not. Surely she wasn’t posting nude pics of herself online. Her mama would . . . shit, Elizabeth. She had to be smarter than that.
“Okay.” I pried the phone from her reluctant grip.
“She couldn’t tag you because your social media accounts are private but there’s a link—“
“Oh, hell.” I stared at the video, stomach crawling. Elizabeth’s bathroom, my work clothes scattered on the floor, and I was . . .
Naked.
Under the water.
A hand braced on the wall,
Another wrapped around my dick, forearm moving while I . . .
Likes and emojis floated up, hearts and starry eyes and eggplants.
Notifications of the video being shared.
God, no.
There were comments.
People were watching this.
I didn't even know it existed, and people were watching.
Commenting.
Sharing.
You'll be sorry.
I'd have to tell Daddy about this.
Mama.
Grandma.
You’ll be sorry.
My stomach turned . Scott jumped out of his chair, diving for the trash can and shoved it in front of me.
Tyler.
I was going to have to tell Tyler about this.
My gut heaved, and I retched, everything I'd eaten today coming up.
My God. My God. She'd said I'd be sorry and now . . . and now . . .
My stomach cramped, another wave of vomit scouring my throat.
Tyler.