Page 87 of Her Ex's Father
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “That was years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “It still happened.”
The words hang between us, heavy. His mom’s face comes to mind: Mrs. McAllister was always kind, welcoming, making me feel like their little one-floor house was a home. A place where I belonged, despite the sprawling ranch I called home.
Jack texted me last year to tell me that she’d passed. I can still remember the ache of that moment, of losing her, even though he and I hadn’t seen each other in two years.
We were kids. Barely twenty. One courthouse signature, one set of papers, and suddenly we were husband and wife—in name only. He needed proximity to take care of his mother, who had settled in Bozeman. Without the marriage he’d have been shipped off somewhere far away as she slowly declined.
I wanted to help. It wasn’t even a question for me.
And then, quietly, we divorced when she passed. Filed, signed, done. No one ever knew except Stella, who covered for me when I had to disappear for a few weekends.
“Do you regret it?” I ask softly.
“Not for a second.” His eyes meet mine, steady and kind. “You gave me years with my mom I wouldn’t have had otherwise. How could I regret that?”
I swallow hard, the straw in my glass squeaking.
Jack tilts his head, watching me carefully. “You don’t think Benedict will understand why you did it?”
“No.” The word bursts out, too fast, too desperate. “God, no. He’ll think I’m—he’ll think I’m?—”
“What?” Jack presses.
“Used up. Tarnished. Dishonest.” My voice breaks on the last word. I grip the edge of the table, knuckles white. “He’ll thinkI’m not worth it. When my parents signed the contract all those years ago, the understanding was that I’d be unproblematic. The furthest thing from a tabloid wife possible. And I can’t?—”
Jack reaches across, covers my hand with his. His palm is warm, grounding. “Mad Dog. Listen to me. If that man can’t see your worth, he doesn’t deserve you. Period.”
Tears prick my eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure, it is. You’re Maddie Clarke. Strongest girl I’ve ever known. And now you’re going to be a mom.” His mouth curves in a small, proud smile. “You’ve always been the one who sacrificed for everyone else. Maybe it’s time to let someone fight for you.”
I let out a trembling breath. “What if he won’t?”
“Then you still win. Because you’ll have faced it. You’ll have chosen your truth.” His hand squeezes mine once before pulling back. “And you’ll never be alone. Not while I’m around.”
The words settle deep, soothing some of the panic clawing at me.
But the ache in my chest doesn’t disappear. Because Jack’s right—I can’t hide here forever. I’ll have to face Benedict. Face my future. Face my feelings.
Even if they tear me apart.
We linger in the diner until the lunch crowd starts trickling in, plates clattering, voices rising. Jack insists on paying, tossing a few extra bills on the table. He leads me back to his truck, the same beat-up Ford he drove in high school, though it’s clearly been rebuilt piece by piece.
As he drives, the city blurs by in streaks of brick and steel. I press my forehead to the glass, one hand protectively over my stomach.
“Where are we going?” I ask softly.
“My place,” he says. “Spare room’s all yours. You’ll have space to crash, cry, throw things, whatever you need. No judgment. They’ve got me on longer shifts lately, so you’ll have privacy, too.”
A lump forms in my throat. “You’re too good to me.”
He glances over, a crooked smile on his lips. “Nah. Just right. You saved me once, Maddie. Let me return the favor.”
And for the first time since everything fell apart, I almost believe I might survive this.
Chapter 32
