Page 84 of Carry Me Home
Brax was leaning back in his fancy leather chair, elbows pressed to the armrests, fingers steepled over his flat abdomen, contemplating the ceiling.
My skin felt hot. I hated airing my dirty laundry to someone I respected. He was my best friend’s husbandandmy boss. But Brax was the only lawyer in Aspen Springs—and possibly the only lawyer in eastern Colorado who wasn’t beholden to my parents in one way or another. There was no one else I could trust with this.
He had finished reading the contract five minutes ago and had been staring at the ceiling ever since. His silence felt like judgment. I cleared my throat.
Brax blinked. “Sorry. I started counting to ten but then I got distracted imagining all the ways I was going to ruin this man’s life.”
Relief whooshed out of me in an audible breath. “Really?”
“Janie.” His head tilted on an almost offended stare. “Of course, really. It won’t even be hard. This contract is bullshit. In the first place, a trustee is supposed to be a neutral third party, not your mother. In the second place, the annual disbursement you receive is nowhere near enough to support a child with special needs. And third, I just saw his smug motherfucking face on an ad talking about the sanctity of family. If he cared so much about marriage, then he shouldn’t have had an affair with a twenty-one-year-old and abandoned his daughter.” His jaw twitched. “I take that personally.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Look at me, Janie.” Brax’s stern voice brooked no opposition. I lowered my hands. “The only thing you should be embarrassed about is waiting so long to come to me for help. Don’t let it happen again.”
Goodness. Essie’s husband was…something. “All right.”
“Good.” His slow smile reminded me of a supervillain who was too smart for his own good. “This is going to be fun.”
34
JACK
Yesterday morning,Janie had looked like shit. Blotchy skin, puffy eyes with purple halfmoons, a tired droop to her shoulders. I’d hated seeing her like that, knowing I was the source of her sleepless night. Not that I’d had it any easier. I hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning as I replayed every word of our argument in my head. I’d looked like shit, too.
But this morning Janie did not look like shit. Her pale skin was as creamy as ever, and while the shadows remained, the puffiness around her eyes was gone. Her copper hair was up in a ponytail and she was dressed for work in ass-hugging jeans and a pretty army-green, scoop-neck blouse that seemed purposefully created to torture me. She looked like she’d actually slept, even if she hadn’t managed a full eight hours.
I still looked like shit.
“Here you go, Maya.” I slid the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her like I wasn’t drooling over her mother. “Do you want some juice?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll get it.” Janie pulled a glass from the cabinet and pivoted to the fridge, red ponytail arcing behind her. I followed it likeshe had me on a leash. She raised an eyebrow without looking at me as she poured the orange juice. “Do you want some?”
I didn’t, but there was literally no other reason for me to be hovering over her like this. I felt like a pimply teenager talking to the homecoming queen. “Yes, please.”
She handed over the carton and slipped past me. Our arms brushed. I put the juice back in the fridge without using it.
“I can make you a plate,” I offered. “There’s plenty more food.”
“Oh.” Her gaze darted around the kitchen. Everywhere but at me. “Sure, that would be great.”
I really wanted her to look at me. But she was still mad, and I didn’t blame her.
I fixed plates for both of us and met her at the table.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
When she finally looked at me, I wished she hadn’t. There was so much heartbreak in her big brown eyes. Heartbreak I had put there. If I could turn back time, I would have smacked myself upside the head. Why the hell hadn’t I simply told her I was a part-owner of the bar, and offered to make her a manager? Because she wouldn’t want that dynamic between us. She would have said no, and I thought I knew what was best for her.
Shit.
Something shifted in her eyes as we stared at each other. She chewed the inside of her cheek in that way she had when she was working through something in her mind. I badly wanted to know what it was.
“Mother,” Maya said. “Speaking of bacon, you’re not eating yours.”
Janie blinked down at her untouched food. A wry smile curved her lips. I watched her slip into mom mode like she was donning armor. When she turned to her daughter, there wasno trace of sadness anywhere. “I’m getting to it, ladybug. If you want more bacon, you have to finish your eggs first.”
