Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jayda pasted on the brightest smile she could manage as the Blair family settled around a table in the dining car.
The small space bustled with chatter, clinking silverware, and the gentle sway of the train beneath them.
The Blairs had commandeered a long table by the window, where the snow-dusted scenery of the Hudson Valley blurred past in streaks of white and gray.
Ginny handed everyone their room keys to their private sleeping quarters, two for each in case they lose one.
Ginny always planned for the inevitable.
Jayda yearned to slip away, but Aunt Caroline reached across the table to squeeze Jayda’s hand warmly, her eyes full of excitement, keeping Jayda rooted to her seat.
“Sweet Jayda,” Caroline said, almost bursting with delight, “how did finals go? You must feel so relieved to have them behind you.”
Jayda’s throat tightened. She swallowed against the sudden lump and forced her lips to smile.
“Oh, you know…it’s a relief, yes.” Her voice came out smooth, how she hoped to sound in a courtroom someday.
She lifted her teacup like a shield and took a sip before anyone could press too hard for the truth—that she won’t be graduating now.
Ed leaned forward, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “And the bar exam? You’re sitting for it soon, aren’t you?” His deep, judicial voice carried a mixture of admiration and expectation.
Jayda curled her fingers tighter around the cup.
The truth clawed at her—she’d missed her last final.
Missed it because two men in dark coats had cornered her outside the lecture hall.
Missed it because she’d been running for her life through city streets instead of writing essays that would lock in her future.
And because of that, the bar exam—the finish line she’d worked toward for years—was now out of reach.
She smiled anyway. “I’ll be studying on the train,” she said lightly. “Plenty of time to cram, right?”
Aunt Caroline beamed. “Perfect! We’ll quiz you with flashcards, won’t we, Ginny?” She glanced down the table at her sister-in-law.
“You know me. I can’t resist,” Ginny said, bouncing one boy on her knees. “We’ll help Jayda, won’t we, boys?”
The boys giggled at the idea, but Jayda’s laugh sounded hollow in her ears. “I’d like that,” she murmured.
But her mind wasn’t on flashcards. It was on the pounding of her shoes against Grand Central’s marble floor.
The hint of breath on her neck as she sprinted to lose the men outside one station as she ran to another, having no choice but to join the Blairs now.
The echo of footsteps had followed her all the way to Penn Station.
She glanced toward the window, pretending to admire the snow, when really, she was searching the car for any sign of the men, just in case they had managed to jump on the train.
Across the table, Michael lounged back in his chair, arms crossed, a determined expression in his startling blue eyes. He had seen the men. And he saw straight through her. Always had.
The others laughed and chatted, caught up in reminiscing about past holiday memories, but Michael’s gaze never left her. When the noise at the table swelled and attention shifted away, he leaned close, his words pitched just for her.
“You’re not fooling me,” he murmured. His tone wasn’t cruel—just steady, edged with that old mix of irritation and protectiveness he’d worn since they were teenagers—protective of his family, not her. “Who are they?”
“Who?” She practiced her rebuttal face, giving nothing away, and picked up her cup again. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
He leaned back. “You will tell me.”
Jayda froze, teacup halfway to her lips. Her pulse beat hot in her ears. She forced herself to sip, forced herself to breathe, forced herself to smile when Ginny teased Ed about his terrible memory for dates.
But the only voice she heard was Michael’s threat.
If he pressed, if he dragged the truth out of her here at this table, everything would collapse. The fragile facade she was building—the grateful foster daughter, the success story, the soon-to-be lawyer—would shatter, leaving only…the girl from the streets.
She met Michael’s eyes with a practiced coolness. “Enjoy the wait,” she whispered back, and turned to laugh at something Uncle Henry said.
Before Michael could respond, a new voice carried across the car. “Well, well, if it isn’t Jayda Simone.”
She looked up—and her breath caught. The door slid closed with Simon Blair standing in front of it.
He approached the end of the table, tall and broad-shouldered, his smile as easy as she remembered.
Time had carved a stronger jawline, a deeper confidence in his stance, but the same charm gleamed in his eyes.
He spread his arms wide as though to encompass the entire train in his delight.
“I haven’t seen you in years. Come here, you. ”
Jayda rose automatically, and Simon pulled her into a warm, enveloping hug.
He smelled of a sharp cologne and crisp winter air.
He must have been outside for fresh air.
She could use some too. For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into Simon’s old familiarity, his quick acceptance.
He had been a friendly face during her time at the Blairs’… and a handsome one to admire from afar.
“Look at you,” Simon said as he stepped back, still holding her shoulders. “A lawyer. I’d hate to go toe to toe with you in court. You’d chew me up and spit me out.”
“Oh, stop,” she said, managing a laugh. “Like you could do anything wrong that would even get you there.”
He threw his head back and laughed, smooth as ever, as though flirtation were his second language. His gaze swept her face, and Jayda felt a flush rise unbidden. She knew he was a player. His attention meant nothing. But she enjoyed the interest however fake.
“Man, you are stunning,” Simon said, glancing over at Michael. “Your sister turned out to be a real beauty.”
Jayda jolted at Simon’s word choice. A glance at Michael’s daggers in his eyes showed he didn’t like being called her sibling.
The feeling was mutual.
“No relation,” she said to Simon. “Not even friends, right, Michael?”
Ginny cut in, scolding, “Jayda, be nice. You too, Michael. You two always fought like a couple of chihuahuas with one bone.”
The twins laughed with glee, and Ginny tickled Tyler’s belly.
“My apologies, Aunt Ginny,” Simon said, hand on chest, admonished at causing a stir so soon into the trip. “We’ll behave. Promise. Jayda, let me escort you to your cabin,” Simon said gallantly, offering his arm. “I’m sure you’d like to settle your things and maybe take a breather, yes?”
The man was also a mind reader.
Before Jayda could answer, two small voices shrieked behind her. “Jayda! Jayda!”
The Blairs’ foster twins, bundles of mischief and curls, jumped out of their seats and hurled themselves against her legs. She staggered, laughing despite herself, as little arms wrapped tight around her.
“What’s your names?” she asked, wrapping her arms around each of their shoulders.
They were two little boys who needed to know they weren’t mistakes in this world—a feeling she struggled with her entire life.
Always wondering if her mother would have died if she hadn’t needed to provide for her.
And after her mother’s death, Jayda only had more doubts about her reason on this earth.
A career in family law would finally give her a place and a cause.
One that helped children like these boys.
“I’m Timmy!” the one with the red shirt announced.
“Nice to meet you, Timmy. And that means you must be Tommy,” Jayda said, suppressing a smile.
“No! I’m not Tommy. I’m Tyler.”
Jayda smiled at Simon. “Oh, my mistake. Tyler, how could I forget? Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”
“You’re so pretty!” Timmy exclaimed, looking up with wide adoring eyes.
The other nodded emphatically. “Can we go with you? We don’t want to sit with boring grown-ups.”
Simon chuckled. “See? Even the kids agree with me. But boys, I asked first.”
Jayda bent to hug the twins, her heart tugging in directions she didn’t expect.
Their tiny hands, their fierce affection—it reminded her of herself at their age.
Of clinging to her mother before the hospital machines and chemotherapy stole her away.
Of clinging to foster siblings who came and went, their faces fading like shadows.
She brushed a hand over one twin’s hair. “I’d love for you to walk with me.”
“Can I sleep in your cabin?” Timmy, the more daring of the two, piped up.
Jayda’s eyes flicked instinctively to Michael. He sat back in his chair, brows raised, watching the scene like a silent judge.
Her throat tightened. She turned back to Timmy and forced a grin. “Sure,” she said softly. “That would be fun. If it’s okay with Ginny.”
The twins cheered and wrapped her in another crushing hug.
But when she looked up at Simon, his stiff expression caused her concern.
Had he been serious about alone time with her?
She had thought he was joking. Timmy and Tyler were children.
How silly and immature of the man to be upset about the boys joining them.
Jayda stood. “I really don’t need an escort to my cabin.”
Simon flashed a smile, all irritation gone. Perhaps she had been wrong? “I wouldn’t miss it. Shall we, everyone?”
Aunt Caroline handed Simon his keycards, and he scooped up Timmy and put him on his hip. The image felt off, this classily dressed man with a child in his arms.
But somehow it worked, and now Jayda saw a different side of the handsome man.
Perhaps Simon Blair was father material.
Not that Jayda was looking to get married and have children. Her career would always come first. She had no time to entertain the possibility of a relationship—or of being a wife and mother.