Chapter Twenty-Three
Tyler
I stared at the patio door, which had swished shut behind Jase’s daddy. My heartbeat pulsed under my jaw, and a nauseated sensation sat at the top of my stomach. I’d felt like this before, when I was being removed from yet another foster home because I’d been fighting at school.
I’d never really wanted to run after anyone before, not the way I wanted to run after Jase now, the way I wanted to keep him in sight.
He was my steadiness, the epitome of stability and ease and to see him undone like this . . .
I worried about him.
I wanted to be next to him, to be there for him.
But he needed his daddy and grandfather right now more than he needed me.
Standing in that truth was tough, though.
We were still new, although we’d grown into a place where I could be almost everything he needed. Somehow, I thought he’d always need those men in his life
“Tyler.” Mrs. Louella touched my shoulder, and I jerked my head sideways to meet her concerned gaze.
Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Jase’s.
I stared at her, trying to get my scattered thoughts together. My brain was always like this after a big shock or after I’d had a surge of anger—sluggish and muddy, my thoughts like sediment scraped up in shallow water.
“Have you eaten?” Mrs. Louella circled her palm on my shoulder once and dropped her hand, like she knew my capacity to tolerate touch from people I didn’t know well when stressed wasn’t much.
I shook my head. We'd missed lunch with all this mess, but I wasn’t hungry either.
Mrs. Hatcher stared at the patio door, arms crossed over her midriff, elbows cupped in her palms with her fingers digging into her upper arms. She dragged her attention away, mouth pinched, and I recognized the shattered fury in her gaze.
I felt the same facing down the news of Elizabeth’s pregnancy.
Her boy was threatened, and she wanted him safe, protected.
She trusted her husband and father-in-law enough to care for him, though,
I pulled in a shaky breath. I’d have to learn how to do that. Maybe I could watch her and learn.
She smiled at me, studying my face. Her gaze dipped to my belly, where I cuddled the tiny curve of our baby, then settled on mine.
“Let’s make you some tea.” She straightened her shoulders, assuming an expression dripping with resolve. “Louella, I could use some toast points and cheese.”
“We should all have some.” Mrs. Louella moved toward the kitchen, like she had no doubt we’d follow.
I did, my legs shaky, my stomach hollow. I pressed harder on my belly. I couldn’t feel him move yet, but I knew he was there, curled up and protected under my palm. His daddy would help me shelter him. Right now, I had to figure out how to protect his daddy.
This level of stress couldn’t be good for him. I needed to drink the sweet tea, eat some damn toast, and calm down.
Mrs. Louella bustled around the kitchen like it was hers, which I guess it was since much of our kitchen stuff was what she’d left behind for Jase, still in the same spots in the cabinets.
Minutes later, we sat around the table, cups and small plates before us. My purse and phone lay on the table where I’d slung them when we’d arrived home and my only concern had been Jase, how shellshocked he was, and now I shoved them to the far end of the table.
I didn’t want to look at my phone. I didn’t have tons of acquaintances here—my circle was small—but I also didn’t want to see who in our lives knew about that video and were reaching out.
I simply wanted Jase to be okay. We sat, sipping and chewing in silence. I was so grateful for that, my eyes stung. I didn’t know how to talk about this, how she’d taken something from him, had used it to hurt him.
She’d violated him. How did you talk about that without making it worse?
A slight movement dragged my attention from the tawny depths of my tea.
Mrs. Hatcher had her hands clenched around her cup, knuckles white, and her mouth trembled.
Mrs. Louella covered her closest hand with her own, a gentle squeeze.
Mrs. Hatcher blinked hard, cast a sideways smile at Mrs. Louella, then rotated her hand so their fingers threaded together, the overhead light glinting off their rings.
My throat ached. Jase’s mama caught my eye then dropped her death grip on her mug and wrapped warm fingers about my own, Mrs. Louella watched with a smile before she stretched out her free hand to take mine.
And the three of us sat in that silence I needed, joined by our love for him.
Long after we’d finished our tea, Jase came in with his daddy and granddaddy, his shirt soaked with sweat, his face flushed with exertion.
My gaze flew to his – he still looked tired, a little shattered, but the awful blankness was gone.
My throat tightened with gratitude. My instincts – that he needed them, maybe even more than he needed me – had been right.
“We’re going to get out of here and let you rest.” His daddy wrapped him in a hug, pounding his back with an easy hand. Jase folded his arms about his daddy’s waist and held on.
Mrs. Hatcher opened her mouth, maybe to protest, but her husband stilled her with a little shake of his head, gaze firm and gentle on her face.
“He’ll call us if he needs us.”
After a round of farewell hugs, we stood alone in the den, facing one another. Although he seemed calmer, not as panic-stricken, his face was haggard, skin stretched taut across his cheekbones, intense weariness making his blue eyes dull.
Shoulders slumped, he dragged a hand over his hair. “I need to clean up.”
I nodded, aching for that air of defeat clinging to him.
He disappeared down the hall, and I watched him go, everything I’d ever wanted without really knowing it. With everything he did, he tried to give me the easy life I’d said I wanted. He was mine.
My one, and I didn’t care how hard it was, as long as he was okay and I had him.
And now . . . now I worried about more than him. What about that baby? Because this?
This was not something a normal, okay person did.
I knew myself. If someone had ever said I’d choose to raise another woman’s baby, especially Elizabeth Hall’s baby, I’d have laughed. But that might be Jase’s child, too. Plus I knew what it was like to live an unstable life with an unstable mother.
And I didn’t want Jase pulled in multiple directions trying to stabilize his child’s life while trying to make things easy for me, too.
I would step into the mess with him and we’d make life easier for one another. With that in mind, I followed him down the hall.
His boots sat next to the dresser, and the sound of the shower drifted through the open bathroom door.
I stopped at the threshold. “Jase?”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, choked, and fury burned through me all over again,
Damn her.
“Can I come in with you?”
A pause hovered, stretching between us, and my stomach clenched. How much damage had she done? Would he shut me out now?
“Yeah.”
Eyes closed in relief, I stripped off and gripped the curtain end furthest from the faucet, pulling it aside to stop in.
He stood under the spray, head pressed to the tile. A heavy breath shook his body.
I stepped forward, resting a gentle hand between his shoulders. His body relaxed, and he blew out a long breath before he straightened, spinning to throw his arms around me and crush me against his chest
I folded into him, hanging on.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He tightened his embrace, whisper muffled against my hair.
Stroking his nape, I buried my face in his shoulder. “I’ll always be here.”
And I would.