His Saving Grace (Austin After Dark #4)

Chapter 1

Jasmine

Certain people paid penance. Not because it was their role, but because they needed to. I was one of those people, and maybe, someday, I’d have rebalanced my scales.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to stave off the quivering of my jaw. I hoped I could.

I settled my fingers against the tombstone, wishing, as I always did, that it was Jensen’s chest—or cheek, hand, thigh, hair, anything—that I caressed with my fingers. Not this cold, hard reality I’d lived in for way, way too long.

Dammit, why hadn’t losing my first true love been enough?

But I knew why. I’d made many mistakes because of his loss—mistakes that I still hadn’t righted though I worked toward and on that goal each day.

“I miss you, my love, and I always will. How different life could have been…” I sighed. “Thirty-five years. We’ve been apart now more of a lifetime than you lived.”

He’d died at twenty-five in a fighter jet accident while in the Air Force. He’d never known I was pregnant, which always sat poorly with me, not just because he would have made a wonderful father—which he would have—but because I’d wanted, desperately, to share the fruits of our love with him.

I inhaled slowly as I let the old ache of his death wash over me. Mostly, the scab was thick, more of a faded scar, but moments like this brought a lump to my throat and stinging to my eyes. I missed him, still…always.

Funny how much I could miss the man when I’d lived so much more of my life without Jensen than with him. I opened my eyes, staring up at the dull gray sky. December in Austin was gray, cold…depressing.

Or maybe I was depressed. A definite possibility that I refused to focus on too closely—because then I’d have to admit to myself why I was feeling so low.

Kneeling at the feet of my first and only love wasn’t the place to think about the man who’d invaded way, way too many of my dreams over the past year.

I rose with a grimace before I headed across the cemetery toward Laurence’s plot. Achy joints and clenched muscles eased as I walked away from Jensen, the father of my boys. I dropped to my heels, grim-faced, to clean the weeds and dead leaves from my husband Laurence’s grave.

Jensen had been Laurence’s older brother, and the two of them couldn’t have been more different.

Jensen was a good man. Kind, thoughtful, if a bit fustily formal, always in need of more laughter and some soft teasing.

Laurence loved me wildly with grand romantic gestures…

in the beginning when he wooed me. But once he realized I’d never adore him, as I had his brother, he’d changed, becoming bitter, ugly. Mean.

Not a man I would have chosen for myself, let alone my children.

Laurence’s cruelty manifested toward my son, Cam.

Carter—Cam’s identical twin—was quiet, thoughtful, even cautious as a child.

Thus, he’d been easier for Laurence to ignore.

But Cam was bold, brash, vibrant…just like Jensen, his father, once I’d got him to loosen up.

I smiled as I considered how much of Jensen’s charisma Cam had inherited.

“I’m still so conflicted about you,” I whispered, eying Laurence’s grave marker. It had weathered, but the stone hadn’t faded yet to the soft, smooth white of Jensen’s. Time did many things to granite and marble, just as it did to my skin and bones—to my family.

We were still healing from Laurence’s wounds and lies. Well, my relationship with my children and theirs between the three of them were still in need of mending. Having their own children hastened those changes along.

My children had been incredibly kind to me, but I wasn’t willing to forgive my part in my family’s near-destruction.

I’d brought Laurence deeper into my boys’ lives, made him their father.

I’d given Laurence a daughter, my beautiful, smart Katie Rose, who he’d cherished once he’d given up on me.

She never saw his cruelty. For that, I was thankful.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t forgive him for how he’d hurt my Cam, especially when the cruelty grew as time went on, just as he flaunted his affairs, trying to…what?

“What did you want from me?” I murmured, aware that I’d never know. That lack of answer would always be a discomfort in my soul.

Finished with my moment here, I slashed my hand over the grass as I readied to stand.

Shock and pain caused me to suck in a breath when something caught the skin of my palm.

I cradled the cut to my chest instinctively.

With careful fingers, I plucked the small enamel pin from between the tall, thick blades of St. Augustine grass.

I ran my thumb over it, a small, bittersweet smile forming.

“Your daughter loves you, Laurence,” I said, still kneeling though my knees and hips protested. “To her, you were wonderful.” I turned the pin over, seeing the tiny words there in gold: World’s Best Daddy.

I pressed the sharp tack back into the solid soil at the base of the stone.

“And you gave me her. How can I not be grateful for that?” I licked my chapped lips. The cold had descended and with it the shrieking winds that dried me out, leaving me a fragile husk.

“But that doesn’t mean you weren’t anything other than an absolute asshole, Laurence Grace.”

“Can’t fault your logic or your language,” came a laconic reply and a large, shadowy figure.

I turned, shading my eyes against the watery, early morning sun. “Heya, Cam. I didn’t expect you up and around.”

He bent, offering me his hand. I took it, glad to get off my knees. He kept his warm palm wrapped around mine until I was solidly rooted and steady. It took a full breath these days, and I didn’t like the change, not one bit.

“Cash wasn’t much on sleeping, so I thought the walk down to the end of the property would do us some good.” He dipped his head toward the toddler, who chased a leaf in a circle, steadily heading toward us.

I brightened at the sight of my grandson. He squealed as he changed course so that he could plow into my shins, yelling, “Gamma!”

Love blossomed, richer and sweeter than any chocolate, as I brushed his hair off his forehead. He was warm from his exertions, his skin still baby soft and perfectly smooth. “How’s my boy?”

“Good. Eat pie.”

I quirked a brow at Cam. “Y’all wanted pie?”

Cam shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m not gonna tell you no. Yours is the best, Mama.”

I laughed and doing so felt good. Just as it warmed me, heart and soul, to haul Cash onto my hip and wrap my free arm around my oldest boy. I inhaled sharply, tears prickling at our connection, the love flowing between us once more…as it always should have.

“Where’s Jenna?” I asked.

Cam’s step faltered a little, which was something I hadn’t seen him do in ages.

Oh, I knew the wound to his calf he’d sustained while on his last tour of duty ached fiercely—and likely would forever—but he didn’t let that mar his stride.

Not this man. No, my boy was a force of nature.

A rock star in every aspect of his life, not just as a musician.

Though he wrote and sang beautiful tunes, and I especially liked the ones he sang with my daughter-in-law, Regan.

She was his twin’s wife and every bit as accomplished as Cam.

Talent surrounded me, and my heart swelled with admiration and love for my children and their spouses. Somehow, against the odds, they’d all not only found their creative stride but found success within the music industry.

“She’s still in bed.”

I sighed. Jenna had suffered a miscarriage nearly a week earlier while Cam was away, performing in Nashville.

I’d been the one to hold her as she sobbed out her fear, pain, and grief, Cam’s soothing words tinny through the phone’s speaker until he pulled into the drive at some ungodly hour and swept her from my arms, into his.

“I’m worried about her,” I said, my frown mirroring his.

He pulled out a Werther’s and popped it in his mouth. “Yeah. Me, too. It’s bad, Mama. She doesn’t even want to go to the shop.”

He looked lost, squinting toward the horizon. Jenna, a talented guitar maker, had always found solace in her work. And the guitars she created were breathtaking works of art, as well as some of the finest instruments available.

“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice quiet.

His gaze flashed toward mine, worry simmering there.

“Unhealthy.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck, his mouth contorting with grief.

“And it’s my fault. Cash here was so easy.

I thought the doctors were wrong, that we’d have no problems managing another pregnancy.

” He shook his head, tension pulling at his body, slowing his stride.

“I shouldn’t have asked it of her, Mama. ”

I hugged him harder, offering him support. Because sometimes we had to get through. There was no other way to manage.

“Pie! Pie! Appa pie!” Cash shouted, arms and legs flailing, whacking me with his tiny shoes in the belly and the booty. I heaved him up higher in my arm, ensuring his safety…and protecting my stomach.

“Don’t you worry, my sweet Cash. Pie’s coming for you, little one. Along with some cocoa, I think. It’s a morning for it.”

Cash squealed and wriggled so much I let go of Cam to wrap both arms around the feisty little boy’s body.

He was beautiful, with Cam’s dark hair and Jenna’s pale eyes.

Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks like pepper spilled on porcelain.

Every time I saw him, he took my breath because his expression was full Jensen.

Oh, how proud that man would have been of his boys.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Cam asked. “I saw you holding it back there.”