Chapter 4
MID-JUNE…
JINX
“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” Amelia’s tense, irritated voice grates through the Bluetooth in my truck Thursday afternoon.
It’s eighty-six degrees in the shade, and beads of sweat practically run in rivulets down my back and make me stick to the leather seat, so I crank the air conditioning and turn all the vents to face me. The Pruitts are my pickiest goddamn customers, hence why I’m here doing their weekly lawn maintenance, as well as three hours’ worth of tree trimming, instead of one of my guys. Between the heat and Cliff’s request that I trim ten branches instead of the two on the service order, I’m in no mood for Amelia’s guessing games.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lee, and frankly, I don’t have time for this.” As the youngest of us and the only girl, she’s always pissed off. Having three older brothers makes it easy, I guess, so it could be any number of things.
“You called Theo my flavor of the week.”
I have to bite back a smirk, because yeah, I did do that. The guy’s weird mustache and gelled hair give off major creeper vibes. And by the way he went on and on about all the places he’s “shot” as a photographer, it’s clear he’s more into himself than he’ll ever be in Amelia. I did them both a favor by nudging him out the door.
Amelia scoffs. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
“Nope.” I tug at the front of my damp shirt to speed along the cooling process. “He cared more about his hair than you do yours.”
“So? There’s nothing wrong with valuing your appearance. At least he showers.”
She’s got a point there. One of the guys she dated last year was a hippie with a deodorant allergy. Water, too, apparently, because the dude was always ripe. He was creative as hell, I’d agree with Amelia there, but damn if he didn’t stink.
“I know you’re never going to stop doing the ornery big-brother thing, but did you have to make me sound like a skank? Theo was the first guy I dated in, like, five months.”
“Hmph.” Five whole months. I’m going on eight or nine myself unless eating burgers on Rachel Perry’s front porch counts.
The memory of that night has me peering over at her house across the street.
Her son, Mason, I realize, is messing around with a push mower in front of their garage.
It’s a nice house. Ranch-style with brick veneer beneath dark gray siding. But the grass looks like it hasn’t been cut in weeks, and it’s been giving me anxiety almost as long.
“Look, Lee,” I say, remembering she’s still on Bluetooth. “I’m sorry. It was the first thing that came to my mind, okay? I’ll do better next time.”
“Next time. Right. Or maybe you could just mind your own business.”
I half snort, half laugh. “We know that’s never gonna happen.”
“And here I thought there was hope for you.” She sighs. “At least you’re not as bad as Aiden.”
Nope, not as long as he has a Glock to back up his scare tactics. Thank god she can’t see my grin. If she could, she’d smack me.
“Anyway, I put some leftovers in your fridge before I found out about your comment to Theo. I was going to stop by and take them back, but I took a nap instead. So you’re welcome, you asshole.”
My chuckle is cut short when Mason slams a tool down onto the concrete, his face a mask of frustration. He’s lucky the damn thing didn’t smack him in the face when it bounced back up.
“Thanks. You’re a good egg, even though your taste in men is shit.”
She makes an annoyed sound but doesn’t argue. Amelia is the more cultured and free-spirited sibling, but she’s a small-town girl at heart. I don’t see her settling down with a man who’s all that different. She just hasn’t figured that out yet.
“I hope you choke on those leftovers.” With that, she disconnects the call.
I’m still chuckling when I turn back to watch Mason.
Now he’s pacing back and forth across the garage apron with his head bowed and his fists clenched at his sides.
I should leave him be and mind my own business. But just like I couldn’t leave his mother to fend for herself at the bar, I can’t let him struggle, either.
Turning my ball cap around, I snag my sunglasses and hop out of the air-conditioned truck.
“Hey, man. That thing giving you grief?” I call out as I jog over, already feeling the effects of the heat.
Mason turns to me, wearing a scowl, his forehead already beaded with sweat. “More like it’s pissing me off,” he grumbles as he swipes at his face, leaving a streak of dirt over his brows.
A laugh escapes me before I remember he just turned eleven. “Bro, don’t let your mom catch you talking like that.”
“I don’t frickin’ care.” He shoves the mower away and then gives it a kick for good measure.
Damn kid could use some time with a boxing bag.
I lift my chin to the mower. “What’s it doing?”
“Won’t start.”
“Hmm.” Hands on my hips, I take a step closer to the offending machine.
“Started giving my dad problems last year, but now it won’t even turn over.”
Figures Craig would leave his kid to deal with this shit. “Mind if I take a look?”
Mason waves at the mower dramatically and then reaches for his bottle of Mountain Dew.
My stomach twists just thinking about all that sugar.
“Crap,” he grumbles, peering into the mouth of the bottle. “There’s a fly in it.”
“There’s a bunch of Gatorade in the cooler in the back of my truck.” I tilt my head toward the street. “Go ahead and grab one.”
He stares at the fly in the bottle for a beat before he wanders away and dumps the contents into the grass. As he’s tossing the bottle into the trash, he looks back at me. “You sure?”
“Yep. Grab one for me, too, will ya?”
He gives a thumbs-up and jogs away.
Turning my attention to the mower, I give it a quick inspection. The issue jumps out at me immediately. There’s oil all over the engine. The yard looks like it’s been cut a few times already this year, so my guess is that Mason ran it with a leak and blew it up.
He comes strolling back with two bottles and sets one down beside me before cracking his own open. “You see anything?” he asks.
“Yeah, unfortunately.” I run a finger through the oil on the carburetor. “This isn’t supposed to be here. Hate to tell ya, but I think the engine is shot.”
His shoulders drop and a flash of guilt crosses his face. “Mom is gonna kill me.”
“Nah,” I say, keeping my tone light. “It’s just a lawn mower.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have money for a new one.”
I kinda thought he might say that, but it’s still just a mower.
“Your mom out running errands or something?” She should be on summer break by now.
“Emma had a dentist appointment. They’ll be back soon.”
I nod and, still kneeling on the concrete, survey the yard. “I’ll come by tomorrow and cut the grass. Just do me a favor and don’t tell your mom.”
He smiles, as if he likes the idea of sharing a secret. “Why not?”
“Because she’ll get stubborn and tell me not to do it. You know how those independent women are.” I wink.
His response is a defeated sigh. “That’s how I know she’s gonna be mad about the mower.”
“Your mom’s got a lot on her plate right now.”
He frowns and roughs a hand over the back of his neck. “She’s been upset a lot since Dad left.”
I dip my chin and pick up my Gatorade. “Yeah, I bet. Which is why I’m gonna come by and take care of your yard. Your mom doesn’t need something else to worry about.” And frankly, neither does he. “You playing football this year?”
“Nope.” Man, if the kid’s shoulders sink any lower, I worry it’ll do permanent damage to his posture.
“Why not?” He’s a damn good player. I know because back before work got so busy, I helped coach the team.
“Mom can’t get me to all the practices. They’re in Copper Crossing this year, since we combined teams.”
“What about catching a ride with Sawyer?”
“He’s playing baseball now.”
Well, shit. “That’s stinks, huh?”
“Yep.” He sighs and takes a drink. “Hey, I almost forgot. Jesse said he’d have some work for me to do this summer.”
I arch a brow. “He did?”
“Said I could cut grass at the shop. I think, anyway.” He scans the yard, like he’s trying to remember.
“Huh. I’ll ask him next time I see him, but under two conditions.”
The kid grins. “Okay.”
“You keep your promise; don’t tell your mom about me cutting the lawn. And you stop that cursing, too.”
His cheeks are already flushed from the heat, but they flame now. “I was just mad at the mower.”
“Maybe, but if your mom had heard that…” I leave the rest unsaid. I don’t know how Rachel would react, but she doesn’t need to deal with reprimanding her kid for spouting off.
“All right. I’ll do my best.”
I hold out a fist for him to bump. “Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.”
RACHEL
“How many more days?”Bobbie Jean arches a brow while she waits for me to slide my debit card into the reader. Between her, her sister Becca, and Crystal, there’s no way I’ll forget the day my divorce will be finalized.
“Exactly eighty.” I sigh and slip the card back into my wallet. Once I’ve stuffed it back into my purse, I collect my go-to iced chai and a strawberry smoothie for Emma. “Seems like forever and yet so soon all at once.”
She nods, her lips pressed into a line. “I remember that feeling. It’s such a roller coaster.”
“That’s for sure.”
These days, I’m not quite so bitter. It took time to see it, but I realized that my emotions were never about Craig moving on so quickly, though it definitely stings that Cady is the one he’s moved on with. No, I was more upset that he was the one who had the nerve to call it quits. It should have been me, and I should have done it years ago.
Instead, I stuck it out. Because that’s what good wives—good mothers—do.
“How are the kids?” Bobbie Jean leans a hip against the counter. “I heard Mason isn’t playing youth football this year.”
My heart sinks. “No, and it kills me. With Emma’s softball schedule, there’s no way I can get him to all those practices in Copper Crossing.”
“What about Craig? Can’t he help?”
I snort. “Craig take time away from work? Not a chance.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”
I shrug. He makes it to Emma’s weekend games, so I haven’t given him too much grief about the kids and their sports. Especially because he really does need to work. He has more debt than I do, with his truck and UTV payments and his credit cards, too. Plus, the judge ordered him to pay child support since the kids reside with me.
I’d rather he spend more time with the kids than give me his money, but that’s not up to me. And maybe paying child support will encourage him to find a place of his own sooner rather than later. If the kids have dedicated space, they can stay with him more, and we can renegotiate.
“Mason’s okay with it. Or so he says.” I suspect he thinks he needs to be around more for me, which isn’t true. I’m doing okay. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t commit to getting him to practice every day.
Bobbie Jean frowns. “Too bad he and Casen aren’t closer in age. We could carpool.”
“I appreciate that.” The smile I give her is genuine. She’s helped me so much these last few months. “Anyway, I have to get going. Emma’s waiting in the car. This is her treat for no cavities at the dentist today.” I lift the smoothie with a smile.
“Oh, good girl. Give her kudos for me.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks again.”
She gives me a little finger wave in return.
Just as I’m closing in on the door, Janice Enders steps inside the shop. Her bright blue eyes light up the second she sees me, and I almost trip over my own feet.
For one, Jinx clearly gets his eyes from his mother. I never noticed that before. And two, it’s a lot harder to look at the woman now that I know how soft her son’s lips are.
“Well, Rachel Kaczmarek. I haven’t seen you in forever,” the older woman says, fussing with her windblown gray-blond hair.
I smile awkwardly, and only partly because of her use of my maiden name. I suppose I should be used to it. She’s called me that for years. I don’t plan on going back to it after the divorce, but it’s kind of ironic that she’s used it all this time. Like maybe she knew something I didn’t.
“Hey, Janice. How are you?”
“I’m better now that I’ve seen you.” She swoops in for a quick hug, even though my hands are full. “How are you doing?” She looks me up and down, assessing me with a kind smile.
God, I hope the guilt isn’t written across my face. “I’m hanging in there. That was quite the festival this year, huh?”
Her gaze brightens, if it’s even possible. “It sure was. You and the kids looked absolutely adorable in your attire.”
Adorable isn’t the word I would use, but we had fun. Dad did, too, though the Polish festival hasn’t been the same for him since Mom’s been gone.
“You and the kids should come by sometime. Remember I was going to teach you how I make sernik?”
Ah, yes. Polish cheesecake. I vaguely remember a conversation about it several years ago.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re too busy for that. I heard you’re watching Jett during the day now that he and Hayden are living here.”
Her eyes light up with pride. “I am. Come over one day. I’m sure he’d enjoy hanging out with Mason and Emma.”
I’m sure he would. Mason and Emma would probably like it, too. But what would Jinx think?
More importantly, why does his opinion matter?