Chapter 9 #3
He hadn’t said that about his last interaction with his father, so dread built in my belly.
“I was too scared to step out of the shadows and tell that scum-sucker to leave Nash alone. Brad was poison, like my father, and he made Nash feel small and weak. I knew what that was like, I knew what those comments, that manipulation, did to Nash’s mind, but I couldn’t save him from Brad…
not while the world—I—believed Brad was Nash’s father. Just like I couldn’t save my mother.”
He whispered the last words as though he were admitting a terrible sin.
As a parent, it was. I understood and empathized.
For a long moment, I just held him to me, and Steve let me.
This was part of the healing: admitting to the mistake, wishing for a different outcome, and then admitting it was what it was.
Such a simple set of steps. So monstrously hard to achieve.
“Steve, you know my husband emotionally abused Camden. Then, he had an affair with Cam’s first wife.
He was a mean, selfish son of a gun, and I never stood up to him, pretending that everything was just fine because my boys were well-fed and that man doted on Kate.
So, he couldn’t possibly be as bad as I knew him to be.
I lied to myself, and that hurt Cam. When the truth came out, it hurt Kate, too. That’s on me.”
I slid back enough so that I could cup Steve’s cheeks. They were smooth—without even a hint of abrasion, which told me he’d taken the time to shave before coming over. His nose and eyes were red.
“I’m not perfect. I’ve made more messes of my life than done good, and that doesn’t sit well. But I keep trying to do better. My kids know I love them—just as Nash knows you love him.”
“I have that…that monster’s blood in me. I know I do because I get so angry sometimes…”
“We all get angry, especially when we think about how people we love hurt us,” I said.
But Steve wasn’t willing to listen, not yet. “I failed my boy.”
“Listen to me, Steven Lincoln. Nash knows you care for and about him. He knows you fought for him when he’d given up on himself.
I’ve heard Cam tell Nash about you calling him, asking for help for Nash—how you ensured Nash sought help, how you helped him through the rehab program.
So do not tell me you failed your son. You took on his hate so that he’d survive.
” I used my stern voice and Steve dropped his lids, shielding his eyes.
“The point I was making is that I know I’m not good enough for you,” he said.
I smiled. “And my point is that I’m no prize myself.”
His lips quirked a little. “I think you are.”
“And I think you are. So how about we start there? This is between us now. Not the past.”
A haunted look passed over his features. “I don’t know how to love someone.”
“I call hooey on that steaming pile.” I smoothed my hair and tugged on my shirt.
“Now, I’m fixing to put these beautiful flowers into a vase.
Then I’m gonna get all dressed up with for this nice-looking fella who I actually want to see and with whom I’d sure like to be seen.
” I batted my lashes, something I hadn’t done in ages. “Pretty please.”
He chuckled even as he shook his head. “What is it with Southern women?”
I went to the kitchen, found a vase, and filled it with water. I settled the flowers into it, touching the soft petals as a thrill shimmered through me.
“I’m nothing you can’t handle,” I said over my shoulder.
“I might well beg to differ.”
“Guess we’ll see about that.”
“Guess we will,” he said with a smile. He looked lighter, as if a heavy weight no longer pinned him.
“You got a destination in mind?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I figured you’d throw me out and we wouldn’t get to dinner.”
I tsked.
“But I’ve been wanting to eat at that new place on the lake—the one Nash mentioned that’s Southern-vegan fusion.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll try it if that’s where you want to go, but I’m going to tell you if I don’t like it.”
“You’ll like it,” Steve said as he whipped out his phone, probably to text Nash about getting a table. “Because under all that butter usage is a woman who loves vegetables.”
He had me there.
“Good thing we know some people who can pull a few strings. I’d like a table with a good view of the lake. Especially if I’m going to put on my black dress and fix my hair.”
“You always look beautiful, Jasmine.”
I smiled. “Charmer.”
He winked. His phone rang. “Nash.” He said, holding the device up so I saw the name.
“I won’t be but a minute,” I said as I headed up the stairs.
“Nash,” Steve said. “Thanks for helping me out. I really owe you one.”
I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation between Steve and Nash because I’d dived into my closet to find something pretty to wear.
Good thing Kate stopped me from cleaning because I would have needed to shower.
But since I’d not done much that day thanks to my kids’ hovering, I just needed to change.
I picked a three-quarter sleeve black dress with a skirt that hit at mid-calf. I paired it with my favorite hand-tooled cowboy boots that matched my silver and turquoise belt Cam and Jenna got for me last time they were in Arizona.
The kids liked to spoil me, which I appreciated. It was nice to feel loved and wanted, but at the same time, I didn’t need their gifts. I was so happy to be part of their lives, especially so involved with Cam, Jenna, and little Cash. I tugged on the dress as I considered what Steve had told me.
In some ways, his history mirrored my own. I hadn’t been abused like Steve and his poor mama, but Laurence crushed my spirt. It was only afterward that I realized how far I’d let myself fall…how much of myself I’d lost.
No, that wasn’t the same as the horrors Steve endured, but we’d both let our pasts dictate our current situation. He was right to lay his to res. I thought I’d done that the end of last year.
I so wanted to have paid my debt to the universe. I wanted to be happy, settled and in love.
I wanted romance.
After I changed, I pulled my hair back from my face on the left side, clipping it behind my ear with a silver comb. A quick swipe of mascara that Kate got me hooked on—I always oohed when I saw how long and thick my lashes became—and some lip gloss.
Stared at my reflection, shocked by the sparkle in my eye and the curve of my lips. Giddiness seized me.
“This is your chance,” I whispered. “You got to grab it with both hands.” I grimaced as I lifted my casted arm.
“Both of them, Jasmine. And you got to make sure that Steve knows his place in your life. The kids have their loves, heir families. You and Steve…you’ll be each other’s number one priority. Tell him that, and often. He deserves to be put first.” So did I.
Nerves fluttered through my stomach. “At least, I think that’s what he wants. Good golly. I hope so.”
I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.
Steve was in the kitchen, probably throwing out my butter. “I was planning to tell you that you matter to me, but if you’re clearing out my refrigerator of food you don’t like, we’re going to have a big problem,” I said.
He blinked at me, mouth hanging open. “I was checking to see if you had any buttermilk.”
“Of course I have buttermilk.” I sniffed. “I bake.”
“I know.” He stepped in closer and touched my cheek. “You look lovely.”
“I tried to. For you.”
“I appreciate that.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why’d you want buttermilk?”
He raised his eyebrows. “A surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
“Says you.”
“Says me.”
I sighed. “Are you taking me to the fancy veggie place or what?”
“I am. Nash came through.”
“Course he did. That boy would do just about anything for you. Well then, let’s go. I’m hungry and if the food doesn’t fill me up, I’ll still have time to whip up something tasty when I get home.”
His eyes flared as his lips curled. He liked my sass, and I liked dishing it. This game was new, and the bantering was fun. I hoped we played it often…and it ended with us in bed together. My yes, did I hope that!
“You’re bossy,” Steve said.
“Nope. Am not. That’s not the Southern lady way.”
He chuckled. “Then what would you call it?”
“Re-exerting my will on the situation.”
He rocked back on his heels, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Fair enough.”
“Anyway, you like me taking charge,” I tossed over my shoulder.
I thought I heard him murmur, “Damned if I don’t.”