CHAPTER 37
JAMIE
R uth dropped by the next morning and Jamie wasted no time filling her in. The moment she revealed that AJ had been behind the threats Ruth froze, eyes wide.
“No way,” she breathed. “James, your dad did this?”
She gripped her coffee mug, the words still foreign, like they belonged to someone else’s life. “Yeah.”
“But . . . why?” Ruth’s voice wavered between disbelief and fury. “I know he’s been borrowing money, but threatening you? Who does that to their own daughter?”
Jamie exhaled slowly, staring at the floor. “Someone who doesn’t see me as a daughter. Just a pawn in his game.”
Ruth’s expression softened. “James . . .”
She swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in her throat. “The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. He showed up after Star Factor because of the money. He only sees me as a bank.”
Ruth straightened. “Not anymore. ”
The anger was there, but underneath it was something worse: heartbreak.
Sensing the weight in the room, Ruth changed gears. “Okay, how about some good news? The song you and Clayton wrote? Reba loves it.”
Jamie blinked, her mind struggling to shift. “Wait—what?”
“She’s going to record it.”
A flicker of pride cut through the haze. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Ruth grinned.
Jamie narrowed her eyes. “Did you have something to do with it?”
Ruth smirked. “I might have mentioned you’re a great songwriter.”
Jamie let out a breath, the excitement finally settling in. Reba McEntire— the Reba—was recording her song.
“Oh, by the way, I passed my exams,” she added.
Ruth’s jaw dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me that first ?!”
Jamie groaned. “Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”
“Darn right I will! We’re celebrating. Dinner party. Tonight!”
Jamie shook her head. “Ruth, I really don’t—”
“Nope. No arguments.” Ruth crossed her arms. “You worked for this and we’re celebrating. End of discussion.”
Jamie hesitated. Between the mess with her father and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days, she wasn’t in the mood. But one look at Ruth’s determined expression and she sighed.
“Fine,” she relented. “But keep it casual—nothing fancy.”
Ruth winked. “No promises.”
Of course Ruth went overboard. She decked out Nolan’s house with congratulations banners and even bought Jamie a graduation gown—because nothing says “totally legitimate achievement” like a cheap polyester robe. But Jamie refused to wear it.
Dinner was Ruth’s doing too: Beef Wellington, because apparently a fake graduation calls for one of the hardest dishes on the planet.
“I reckon you should graduate more often,” Clayton said, his mouth full.
Jamie smirked. “Once was enough, thanks.”
“Are you going to college now, Miss Jamie?” Emily asked, wide-eyed.
Jamie smiled. “No, sweetie. I’m done with school.”
A ping sounded from Ruth’s phone and Jamie cocked her head.
“Everyone I know is here,” Ruth said, glancing at her screen. “I’ll turn it off.”
“Who is it?” Jamie asked.
Ruth shook her head. “Just a notification. I’ll tell you later.”
“Tell me now.” Jamie put down her fork. “What’s so important?”
Ruth wiped her hands on a napkin. “It looks like Derrick called off his engagement.”
“Who’s Derrick?” Charlotte asked, swinging her feet under the table.
Jamie hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to the kids. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Charlotte scrunched her nose. “Well, then I hate him.”
Jamie laughed. “Me too.”
“Me three,” Clayton added, flashing a grin.
“Whatever. It was just a publicity stunt,” Nolan said.
Jamie frowned. “What? How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “Derrick told Clay in Los Angeles. ”
Jamie’s stomach coiled. Her pulse thumped in her ears as she turned sharply to Clayton. “He was in LA?”
The table fell into silence, heavy and suffocating.
Nolan shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, Jamie. I thought he told you.”
“He didn’t.” Her voice was barely above a whisper but its ice was unmistakable.
A slow, awful realization crept over her, tightening around her ribs like a vise. He’d kept this from her. Not just any secret—one that mattered. It wasn’t a white lie or an innocent omission. It was deliberate.
Clayton exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to upset you.”
Jamie let out a sharp, humorless laugh, though there was nothing funny about how her chest ached. “Good job, Clayton.”
Charlotte’s lower lip trembled before she burst into tears. “Daddy, you did upset Miss Jamie.”
Clayton closed his eyes for a second, his shoulders sagging.
Jamie pushed back from the table. “I need some air. I’ll see you later, girls.”
She stormed back to Clayton’s house, cursing his name. Cursing herself for ever letting him in.
Her hands shook as she yanked her suitcase from the closet, shoving clothes inside. She should have known better. Letting someone get close only gives them the power to hurt you.
The sound of boots echoed down the hall. She didn’t stop packing.
“What are you doing?” Clayton stood at the door, his voice cautious.
“Leaving,” she said, not looking at him.
“You’re moving out?”
“I’m staying at a hotel.”
“What am I supposed to tell the girls? ”
She zipped her suitcase. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“No,” he said, stepping inside. “It’s an us problem. You can’t just leave because of one argument.”
She finally turned, fury and heartbreak swirling inside her. “Watch me.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice was gentle. “Jamie, I’m sorry. Didn’t want it to ruin your night.”
“So you lied instead?”
“I didn’t lie. Just didn’t tell you.”
“Same thing.”
His eyes darkened with frustration, but he said softly, “You want the truth? Fine. Derrick said you’d always be his. That I’d never stand a chance. And I believed him.” His voice turned raw. “Thought if you knew, maybe you’d go back to him.”
Her stomach sank. “You think I’d go back to someone who treated me like that?”
“I didn’t know,” he admitted. “I was scared, Jamie. And I handled it wrong.”
She swallowed hard. The anger didn’t vanish, but something in his voice cracked through her defenses.
She grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door but he beat her to it, blocking the way.
“Can we talk about this?” he asked.
“I’m done talking,” she whispered. “I’d rather be alone than be lied to.”
“Being alone is a trauma response.”
She froze .
“I’ve been reading,” he said, quieter now. “About abandonment. About how people push others away before they can get hurt. I wanted to understand. For you. For the girls.”
Jamie’s breath hitched. She hated that he saw through her.
“Jamie, I love you,” he said. “And so do the girls.”
Tears burned her eyes. “How am I supposed to trust you?”
“I swear,” he said, stepping closer, “no more secrets. Not now. Not ever.”
His arms wrapped around her and she stiffened. But when she didn’t pull away he held her a little tighter.
The front door burst open and two little voices filled the silence.
“Where are you going, Miss Jamie?” Emily asked, eyeing her suitcase.
“A hotel.”
Charlotte’s chin lifted. “I’m coming with you.”
“Me too,” Emily said.
“Me three,” Clayton added.
Jamie let out a broken laugh. She looked at the girls, then at Clayton, then back at her suitcase.
Maybe he was right. Maybe running wasn’t the answer.
Her fingers clenched around the handle. Every instinct told her to go. But for the first time in her life, she wanted to break the habit.
She let go of the suitcase and crouched down, pulling the girls into her arms.
She wasn’t leaving. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
Summer flew by in the blink of an eye. With Tennessee schools starting the second week of August the house felt unusually quiet without the girls underfoot.
Not that Jamie had been around much. Since she and Clayton wrote Reba’s song, three other artists had asked to collaborate, and most mornings, after school drop-off, they headed straight to the studio.
Today was no different—except it was August 25.
Jamie’s birthday.
She never made a fuss about it. Birthdays hadn’t been a thing when she was a child and she preferred a normal day, doing normal things.
“Happy birthday, darlin’.”
Clayton strolled into the bedroom holding a present, the girls scrambling onto the bed behind him with Poppy, Duke, and Heathcliff close at their heels.
Jamie raised her brow. “What’s this?”
“Open it!” Emily urged, bouncing.
Jamie gave the box a shake—it was light. Something was inside, but she had no clue what it was. One thing was sure: Clayton had wrapped it himself. The folds were uneven and the paper bunched in places where it should have been smooth.
Smirking, she tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid. The moment she saw what was inside she shot Clayton a glare. He was already laughing.
“I got you a constrictor knot,” he announced, grinning.
Jamie held up the small coil of rope and cocked her head. “Wow. Just what I always wanted.”
Charlotte frowned. “Why would you give Miss Jamie a knot, Daddy?”
“Because she can’t tie one herself,” Clayton said smugly.
Emily wrinkled her nose. “That’s a dumb gift. ”
“That’s the whole point,” Clayton said with a smirk. “Come to the living room. Your real present is waiting.”
Jamie sighed but climbed out of bed, following the girls down the hall.
“You have to find it,” Clayton said, rubbing his elbow.
She ran a hand through her hair. “I have to find my own gift?”
He nodded, grinning.
“We’ll help you!” Charlotte said, already lifting couch cushions and peeking under chairs.
Jamie glanced around the room. “Did you hide it?”
“Nope,” Clayton said.
She surveyed the space, searching for anything out of place. Then her eyes landed on the mantel. The terrible horse painting was gone, replaced by a breathtaking canvas of a white flower, rich with greens and blues.
“I love it,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her cheek. “It reminds me of a Georgia O’Keeffe.”
“That’s because it is one,” Clayton said.