Chapter 16 #2
“Dish us up, Pop,” Cole cut in, needing the conversation to shift—mostly for his own sake. “Diet starts tomorrow, like we all tell ourselves after fallin’ off the wagon.”
“Have to be on the wagon to fall off it,” Ellen muttered, still pinning John with that look.
He just chuckled and stretched a hand toward Jocelyn. “Help me out here, Jossie. Change the subject and save me.”
Her smile flashed as she passed him her plate. “I do owe you one.” She gave the portion he scooped a quick glance then nodded.
He barked out a laugh, sliding the plate back to her. “You definitely do not.”
Ellen pounced on the opening, her focus shifting to Jocelyn. “Tell us about your work, Jocelyn. Did you take time off to visit?”
Jocelyn smiled, the brightness again catching Cole in the chest like a fist. “Most of it can be done remotely. I made sure to get my major projects done before coming here, but I have ongoing work with certain clients. I’ve been balancing that between…”
Her words faltered, smile shrinking.
“It’s alright, Jossie,” John said. “Don’t need to dance around it. We know why you’re here, and you deserve those answers.”
Ellen’s nod was quick and certain. Pride nudged at Cole’s ribs. Jocelyn still looked stricken, but she gave a slow nod.
Still killed the conversation and that smile Cole couldn’t get enough of.
“Let’s say Grace, so we can dig in.” Ellen lifted her brows at her husband. “John?”
His daddy’s old prayer rolled over Cole like a familiar song. He peeked one eye open. Jocelyn’s head was bowed, but she was staring down at the food, her mind miles away.
The meal carried on. Jocelyn came alive again when she talked more about her work—graphic design, marketing, building other people’s visions. He watched her light up and felt that squeeze in his chest again, like she belonged here, at this table.
Then Ellen asked about Cole’s progress on the house. He kept it short—“slow and steady.” But his mama went right on filling Jocelyn in about her daddy passing the family land on to Cole.
“Fifty acres,” Jocelyn repeated, her mouth dropping open. “You’re building it yourself?”
“Two walls framed up today.” He shrugged like it was nothing.
“That’s amazing.”
Her words made his skin itch. Praise never sat right, not on him. John barely grunted whenever Cole mentioned the project. Only his mama ever bragged on him.
And she sure puffed up like a hen showing off her best feathers. “You’ll have to take her over while she’s in town.”
“Ellen,” John warned.
“I’d love to see it,” Jocelyn said, and it didn’t sound like politeness.
Cole tried for casual, gave another shrug. “Happy to show you sometime.”
Silence followed while John stared at his wife. She ignored him, all triumph and smiles. Cole caught Jocelyn’s eye, enjoying another shared joke at his mama’s not-so-subtle matchmaking. Maybe Jocelyn didn’t mind. He sure as hell didn’t.
The moment broke when Ellen shoved her chair back. “Why don’t y’all go into the living room while I get the pie ready?”
His daddy’s stare didn’t waver, but he got up, too, stacking dishes.
“Don’t you dare touch that plate, Jocelyn Murphy,” Ellen snapped when Jocelyn made to help.
Her hands shot up in surrender, and Cole couldn’t help the laugh that cracked out at the shock on Jocelyn’s face. The full-name Mom Voice could rattle anybody.
“I got her, Ma,” Cole said, brushing his hand against Jocelyn’s back to steer her toward the living room.
“Your mother is such a sweetheart, but wow,” Jocelyn murmured, a smile lacing through the words.
“She’s a spitfire when she needs to be,” he agreed. "The full-name treatment'll knock the fight right out of anybody."
"Including you?"
He tipped his head. "Especially me. But don't go spreadin' that around."
She laughed as they moved across the hall to the living room. No doubt John was back there giving Cole’s mama an earful about her scheming, but Cole shoved that out of his head and watched Jocelyn instead—watched her cross the room and perch on the far end of the couch like it was neutral ground.
“I think it’s amazing that you’re building your own house.” Her voice carried that warm ease, her expression soft.
“We’ll see if it turns out.”
She tilted her head at his deflection. “I think it says a lot about you.”
His brows ticked up as he resisted the urge to rub at the heat crawling up his neck. “What’s it say?”
She studied his reaction. “That you know how to stick with something. Most people don’t.”
His mouth curved. “That’s a nice way of callin’ me stubborn.”
She pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to press, but before she could, Ellen swept in with two plates of peach pie.
“Here you go, baby,” she said, handing the first to him.
She crossed to Jocelyn, leaning over the coffee table to give her the other plate. The fork slid off, bouncing off Jocelyn's knee to clatter onto the floor.
“Oh!” they both said at once.
Jocelyn bent to grab it and came up with a slip of paper, too.
“That must be from my scrapbooking the other day,” Ellen said, taking the fork from her. “I’ll get you a new fork. Just set the paper on the table—I save all my scraps.” She breezed out without a second glance.
But Jocelyn didn’t just toss the scrap aside. She stared at it, studying the ripped edge like it held some secret she’d been searching for.
“Problem?” Cole asked, watching her closely.
“Scrapbooking,” she repeated, distracted.
“Yeah. The old lady hobby she picked up a while back,” Cole said, his tone edged with humor. “Don’t let her rope you in, or you’ll be stuck here all night flipping through the hundreds of albums she’s got stashed upstairs.”
“Oh, Cole.” Ellen swatted his arm like he’d insulted her honor as she walked back in.
She handed a fresh fork to Jocelyn, then took her own plate from John, who'd trailed in behind her. Jocelyn didn’t even crack a smile, just dug into the pie like it was duty instead of dessert.
Something had been knocked sideways, and he wasn't the only one who noticed.
“You alright, Jocelyn, Honey?” Ellen asked, sharp as always when it came to sniffing out moods.
“Just a sudden headache,” Jocelyn murmured.
His folks traded looks, then sent the same questioning glance Cole’s way. Pop’s was more accusatory than his mama’s. But he just shrugged, not knowing what to make of it, then offered to take Jocelyn home once the plates were cleared.
“We’d love to have you again,” Ellen said as she walked them to the door, her attention locked on the way Jocelyn’s shoulders crept up toward her ears.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Jocelyn said, voice too polite, too thin. “I’m sorry to cut out early.”
“No need for sorry, Honey.” Ellen gave her one of those soft, mothering smiles, though the worry never left her eyes. “You holler if you need something.”
Jocelyn tried to return the smile, but it died out quick. “Thank you, Ellen. John.” She gave them both a nod.
“Night, Jossie,” John said, bushy brows pulled low.
In the truck, Jocelyn waved off Cole’s offer of pain meds. When she clicked her buckle into place, her movements held the barely contained aggression of anger, her hands shaking.
“What’s going on here, Jocelyn?” It wasn’t quite a demand, but there was no softness in his tone.
A sigh cut through her lips, but she refused to look at him. “Please, just take me to the hotel.”
His grip tightened on the wheel as he backed out, frustration and confusion twisting in his gut.
It only took a few minutes for the silence to crack.
“Tell me, Cole. Did your dad confess something to you last week? After our… disagreement?”
Rage lit him up from the inside like a shot of tequila. “The hell does that matter?”
He expected her to yell, but her chin trembled. “Why was he there the night of the fire? He wasn’t on shift. Why was he at my house so fast—before the fire station had even been alerted?”
The question hung there between them, sharp enough to cut him open.