21. Jessica
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
“Which book doyou think I should start with?” I ask Bailey. The stack of craft books Garrett loaned me is sitting on my coffee table, taunting me with how much I don’t know about writing fiction. “Or do you think I’m crazy for believing I can write a novel?”
Bailey cocks her head to the side.
“You’re right. I should probably start with the book on story structure and plotting.” Yes, I’m using Angelique’s journals to write the story, but maybe the events shouldn’t be told in a linear fashion. Structure will help me hit all the right notes for what to include and what to leave out—I hope.
Bailey barks.
“Good point. I need more hours in the day to read all these books.” And to finish reading and transcribing the journals.
I’m definitely crazy to think I can do this. But crazy or not, it’s something I want to try, even if Anne’s the only one who sees the story.
The doorbell rings as I’m finishing the second chapter of the story structure book. Bailey’s head perks up from her snoozing spot on the floor by my feet. Must be Troy. He’s due here about now—hopefully with my bike and trailer, which I left at Garrett’s.
My body buzzes in anticipation at what the doorbell means. Troy and his golden kisses. I push to my feet from the couch, excitement zipping through me since I plan to tell him about the books Garrett loaned me—the reason I was at his brother’s house.
I follow Bailey to the front door. She parks her butt on the wood flooring and looks expectantly at me.
I open the door, ready to fling myself into Troy’s arms. But he’s not here alone. His brothers are behind him, as are Lance, Simone, Zara, Emily, Avery, and Noah.
It’s Thursday, so they aren’t here for Game Night.
“Hi?” My gaze lands on each of them in turn, waiting for someone to tell me what’s going on. They’re smiling, so they’re not here to deliver bad news.
Noah steps forward. My heart rate jacks up, but not enough to signal a fight-or-flight panic attack that could still come from him being a cop. A definite improvement at least.
“Your renovations are stalled because of Troy’s shoulder and your ribs.” Noah’s eyes sparkle with warmth. “We’re here to help get your plans for the house back on track.”
Avery moves up next to him. “Unless you’ve got someone else hidden inside.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “No, only Bailey and I live here now.” My gaze falls on Lance. I’ve never hung out with him—with or without Troy. I usually just see him at work, when he likes to tease me.
“They had to bring someone who knows what they’re doing.” He winks at me, and I grin at the only other person in the group who does renovations for a living.
“Ah, that makes sense.” I open the door wider to let everyone in. Bailey greets each of them in turn. Butterscotch joins her, and Bailey’s tail wags at supersonic speed.
Troy enters last. The kiss he gives me is long and deep and turns my blood to a simmer.
I smile against his mouth. “Thank you.”
“Noah gets all the credit for this. He asked me if he and Avery could help with the renovations.”
“We know you’re starting your life over, and having the safe haven you’ve been dreaming about is part of that,” Noah says from the hallway, clearly having heard the kiss and what Troy said to me.
Troy kisses my brow and smiles at me. “And maybe once we’ve finished the renovations, your brother-in-law and his wife will be open to the idea of Amelia being in your life.”
Oh, God.That’s my dream. A dream I’m getting closer to achieving. I turn to the group. “Thank you. There aren’t enough words to tell you how grateful I am.”
Silly tears prick my eyes. After what happened with Anne’s neighbor yesterday, I needed this. I needed to be reminded that once more people piece together the truth about my past, not everyone will despise me. I have friends who believe in me—like Granny did.
* * *
“Do I get to see it?”I ask Troy three hours later and peer up the stairs to Amelia’s bedroom. Everyone left a few minutes ago. Troy, Noah, and Kellan were working on the second floor the entire time, while the girls and I were downstairs, painting the walls and floor moldings. Lucas and Garrett were busy with the laundry room under the guidance of Lance, who was tearing out the cabinetry in the washroom next to where they were.
“You can see the bathroom, but you’ll have to wait to see the guest bedroom.” Troy kisses the end of my nose.
“Why?”
The smile that spreads across his face is one of my favorites—amused and incredibly sexy. “You’re like a kid who’s been told they have to wait until bedtime to open their birthday presents.”
I fake a horrified gasp and clutch at my chest. “What kind of monster would make a kid wait that long? And can you blame me?” I drop my hand away and push my lips into a pout. Troy chuckles.
“No. Especially when I know how important that room is to you.” Troy’s eyes cloud, the teasing glow robbed from them. The moment vanishes as quickly as it came.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, surprised at the sudden change in him.
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Are you sure?” Did he find the secret room? But so what if he did? Sure, I haven’t told him about what I found there, but I don’t think me hiding something from him would cause Troy to react like this. The journals, medal, and pendant aren’t a big secret like I was keeping before—a secret about me. They’re Iris’s secret.
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Really? Then telling me shouldn’t be a big deal. What has you so frowny?” The corners of my mouth twitch up a tiny amount.
“I’m not frowny.”
I run my thumb over the grooves in his forehead. “Could have fooled me. Just tell me.” My arms encircle his waist. He’s beginning to make me nervous.
His chest swells with a lengthened breath. A soft sigh blows over his parted lips. “What if your brother-in-law refuses to let you see Amelia? Even after everything you’re doing? The house. The job. Therapy. Great friends. A boyfriend who loves you.” The optimism in his voice from earlier—when he suggested Craig and Grace might now be more open to the idea of Amelia being in my life—has fizzled. In its place is worry and doubt.
My head droops forward. I don’t want to think of that possibility but know it’s looming in the shadows, ready to strike me down.
I don’t know what I’ll do if they never let me see her. Just thinking about it has new fissures spreading through my heart, large chunks of it threatening to fall off.
Troy lifts my chin with his finger. “I’m sorry, Jess. I don’t want you to let go of your goal of having her in your life again, but I’m also worried about what will happen if they keep refusing you.”
I don’t have an answer for him, especially not the one he’ll want to hear. Surely at some point they’ll realize I’m not a threat to be feared. Realize I’m not going to destroy what they have with my daughter—no matter how much it hurts me not being her mother.
“Jess?”
“I don’t know what I’ll do…mainly because there’s nothing I can do. There is no legal path I can take to undo the choice I made. No time machine I can use to prevent myself from signing away my rights.”
Would it have made a difference if I’d known I would be released well before my sentence was supposed to end? I was an inmate for five years before the cops realized their mistake. Before the DA realized I’d been wronged. Even if I hadn’t signed the papers that gave away my rights to Amelia, how would she have felt once I was set free?
I’m a stranger to her. She wouldn’t see me as her mother.
I would be the woman who disrupted her happy life.
The tears I kept in check earlier now slick my cheeks. I swipe at them. Maybe Amelia would be better off if I stay away, if I pretend she never existed, if I let my heart be ripped in two.
Troy takes my hand and leads me into the living room. The room has changed so much since I moved into the house. Now, it’s like a modern-day fairy-tale cottage, warm and airy and cozy.
He walks to the cabinet with the record player built inside it, pulls out an old Billie Holiday vinyl, and puts it on the turnstile. “I’ll Be Seeing You” plays through the speaker, the sound slightly tinny.
Troy puts one hand on my waist. His other hand takes my hand. He leads me around the living room, twirling and dipping me in time to the old-time ballad. I laugh, unable to believe just how sweet and amazing and perfect he is. Perfect like Grandpa was for Granny.
His smile is the same one my grandfather always had for Granny whenever they danced together in the kitchen, the love they felt for each other undeniable.
Something in my heart stirs, an emotion I’ve been in denial of for a while now. An emotion that fills me with warmth, that sets my heart rapidly beating, that makes me feel like I’m soaring among the stars when I’m with him.
I’m in love with Troy.
I’m in love with the man who knows how to make me smile. The man who has done so much to help bring the smile back to my face.
But as much as my heart wants to share that with Troy and everyone who’ll listen, my brain knows better.
I might be in love with Troy, but I’m not ready to admit it to him or anyone. Yet.
I need time. Need time to get used to it.
Need time after everything I’ve been through.
Need time while I still try to find myself.