Chapter 3
Jasmine
I offered a stiff smile as I set another platter on the table. Much as I tried to rearrange my face into happier lines, worry about Steve tugged too hard, not just at my heart, but into my soul.
Damn the man! Why couldn’t I let him—the possibility of us—go? He’d made it clear that I was a mistake. And yet, he kept coming back, looking at me…heat swooped up from my belly, landing once again on my cheeks like I was forty years younger and falling hard for my first crush.
I glanced toward the back door, but Steve still hadn’t returned. Something was off with him, and not just because he’d finally called me on my ridiculous behavior. That tension had been building between us for a long time, so I wasn’t surprised he wanted to root it out.
Typically, he was the most punctual of us all, but he’d stepped outside while I was cooking, and now, a good hour later, he hadn’t returned. I’d caught the flash of desperation in his expression before he exited, and while I wanted that to be about me, I knew it wasn’t.
“That’s all of it. Why don’t y’all tuck in?
I’ll go see what’s keeping Steve.” I wiped my hands on my apron as I walked toward the back door.
My steps slowed as I wondered if I’d upset him to the point he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me.
Well, if that was the case, we’d hash it out.
The kids deserved us to do so, and finding some common ground with Steve wouldn’t be any harder than living with Laurence.
It might be because I cared what Steve thought of me. I wanted…yearned…Stop it, Jasmine!
Shaking my head, I forced myself to open the door and took a bracing breath of the softer night air. Sure, we got storms from time to time, but this holiday wasn’t one of them. Instead, the air sat like a muggy lake over my skin, causing it to itch.
He stood with his back to me, grasping the porch railing so tightly that his arm muscles bulged. His head dipped low between his shoulders, reminding me of an enraged bull.
“Food’s on the table,” I said to his back.
“Good. Great. I’m going to stay out here.”
His deep voice always sent shivers through me, heating my blood—as it had from the very first time. The sensation was unusual. Not that I didn’t recognize it, just that I’d assumed sensuality and sexuality were behind me. Menopause changed a woman.
This damn man had gone and proved that lovely fantasy a lie.
I still had desires, still had needs, and Steve caused them all to flare, bright and hot.
Even now when he wouldn’t look at me. Perhaps that’s why my temper flared, and I said, “You will march your butt inside and sit at that table and smile for those kids, Steven Lincoln, because they deserve it.”
“Don’t, Jasmine. I…can’t.”
He looked at me over his shoulder, and I caught the horror in his eyes. I swallowed as the enormity of that thing inside him smashed into my chest.
Something haunted him. Something not unlike the years of disrespect and taunts and, finally, abuse of my son I’d endured from Laurence.
“Oh, my dear. What’s been done to you?” I rushed closer, laying my hands on his arm. Strength and warmth exuded from the muscle. He shifted away.
“I’m not one of the kids who you need to sort out,” he said. But his voice was weary. “And I’m not a project. Just…leave me alone.”
My back stiffened, and I raised my chin. “One thing my deceased husband found particularly annoying about me was my unwillingness to ‘mind him.’ He told me often I had a nasty stubborn streak. Very unbecoming in a woman, which was why he sought out better specimens of femininity.”
Steve returned to staring out into the thick darkness, but his hands tightened further on the railing so each tendon stood at attention and his skin turned white. “That your way of telling me no?”
I nodded.
He grunted. “Your deceased husband was a sack of putrid garbage for blaming you for his failings.”
I settled myself next to him with a soft bump of my arm against his. “You’re not wrong. But at least I got a beautiful daughter from that steaming pile of horseshit.”
He chuckled as he shook his head. “Seriously, Jasmine. I need some time. I’m not good company.”
“That’s all right. I don’t need good company. I’ve found I prefer silence from most people.”
We stayed like that, touching from shoulder to elbow, but nowhere else. The sound of utensils scraping on plates and Cash’s excited little voice sifted through the walls, mixing with the night sounds.
“My father beat the shit out of my mother,” Steve murmured into the dark. After a long pause where I couldn’t suck in a breath, he said. “He killed her.”
I tensed further but remained staring out into the dark, quiet. People always talked into the dark quiet. It held more confessions than all the Catholic churches and priests; I was sure.
“Just so you know, I tried to get him to take out his anger on me…” His voice held steady, but his arm shook as he squeezed the railing.
I breathed slow and deep before I said, “Guess that explains the burn marks on your shoulders and thighs.”
He turned toward me so quickly that I lost my balance. He caught me by my elbows, cupping them in his large palms.
“You knew?” he asked.
I tipped my head back and met his dark, angry gaze. “I suspected.” After a brief hesitation, I said, “Though I had no idea just how horrible the reality would be. I figured you’d talk when you were ready.”
His face shuttered but there was so much feeling in his eyes. He yearned for a caring touch, even as he shied from it. When we’d been together that glorious night, I’d assumed I’d mistaken the emotion, projecting my wants onto his.
I lifted my shaking hand and cupped his cheek.
My voice was soft but steady. “What was it you called Laurence? A pile of garbage? Seems fitting for the man who refused to father—and didn’t know how lucky he was to be one.
Not to mention just what an amazing man you became, even if you are super-glued and duct taped back together. ”
He barked out another laugh, but some of the tension eased from his muscles. I smiled back, easing my hand away and resettling beside him.
“You’re good at that, you know,” he said.
“At what?” I asked.
“Diffusing emotional situations. Making me take a step back to rethink what I thought I knew.”
“Maybe you wanted to see the situation from a different angle.” I said it lightly, but there was a reason I could smooth out volatile emotions.
For years, I’d dealt with Laurence’s anger and frustration.
I’d been the one to place myself between him and Cam more than once—once I knew about the abuse.
Laurence never hurt me physically; he used his words and deeds for that, but with Cam…
I closed my eyes and my heart stuttered.
Damn that man. Damn me for not realizing it.
We all have our demons.
Steve pulled me into his embrace, dropping his nose into the cradle of my shoulder and neck. “You’re such a strong woman, Jasmine. So strong. You not only pulled your family through what disintegrated mine, but you’re thriving.”
He shifted again so that our bodies aligned, flush from chest to toe. “I think this angle is my favorite,” he murmured. He kissed me, shifting his lips back and forth softly, and desire flooded my system.
The back door squeaked open, and, with great reluctance, I let Steve go as he backed away. Jenna stood there, lips pursed, assessing. “Cash wants his grandmama.”
Without another word or look, she turned and headed back through the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Jasmine—”
“I’m not,” I said firmly.
Steve grimaced, running his fingers through his hair. I loved his hair—it was thick, often in need of a cut. “But Jenna’s going to think—”
“That we’re lovers? Well, we’re not.” I kept my tone level as I met his gaze, which held the memory of our passion. “You made that clear.”
“Jasmine—” His voice cracked, and my heart bled with his uncertainty.
I waved off his concern. We weren’t lovers now, so there was no point rehashing the past. “I’m known for my comforting shoulder. So, I think your virtue’s safe.”
He scrubbed his palms over his cheeks. “You’re exasperating, you know that, right?”
I sashayed back into the house, calling over my shoulder, “Hmm. I can see how you’d struggle with me constantly being right. Such a problem.”
His chortle made my lips turn up, even as my heart continued to ache.