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Jake smiled at that. Leave it to his mother to sugarcoat it. Lily St. Clare wasn’t nice. She wasn’t warm and fuzzy, and she certainly didn’t inspire thoughts of puppies and rainbows. He took a bite of his muffin and spoke. “Lily is an acquired taste.”
Actually, she was more than an acquired taste. The woman had more walls around her than anyone he knew, except maybe his buddy Mackenzie. Lily was from old Boston money, the kind that breeds anxiety, paranoia, and plain old-fashioned craziness. She’d told Jake once that it was a direct result of the Southern blood that had infiltrated the family back in the 1800s. There was some sort of scandal, and the bloodline had been tainted.
Or at least that’s what she’d been told.
Yes, Lily St. Clare appeared as cold and brittle as the crisp blond facade she presented to the world, but Jake knew better. At a time when he’d been drowning in darkness, on the edge of free-falling down endless bottles of tequila, she’d been the one to pull him out. She understood pain. And loss.
They were two of a kind, with skeletons rattling hard and scars beneath the flesh that only X-ray vision could see.
“Where did you meet her?”
Jake paused, swiped the mess he’d made on the counter into the palm of his hand, and rose. “I met her in a hospital in Texas.”
He felt the weight of his mother’s eyes on him as he tossed the crumbs into the garbage and then turned, his hip leaning against the edge of the sink as he contemplated his next words. “Her brother was in my unit. He was hurt in the incident that, uh…” Jake clear
ed his throat roughly, hating the weakness—the tightness—inside him. “He was hurt in the incident that took Jesse.”
“And he was brought back to Texas?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’d sit with him every day for hours at a time, just shooting the shit, talking nonstop.” Pain pressed hard into his chest and he exhaled. “Hell, I talked so much, I got sick of hearing my own damn voice, so when this blonde showed up and took over, well, let’s just say we bonded in that small, sterile hospital room.”
His mother rinsed out her mug. “So are the two of you…” She picked at an invisible crumb and swept it into the sink. “I mean, you never said anything when I showed Lily to the guest room last night, but you’re a grown man, and if the two of you are serious…”
Jake smiled—a full-on, wide-eyed smile—and cocked his head to the side. “What are you trying to say, Ma? That it’s okay if I want to score me some action in your house?”
“What?” Marnie’s eyes widened and she blushed a pretty shade of pink that just about made his day. Hell, it made his whole week.
He couldn’t help himself. “Because I’d be fine with that, if Lily and I were involved, but we’re not, so”—he patted his mother’s shoulders—“you can relax. She’s just a friend who was at loose ends for the holidays and I didn’t want her to be alone, so I figured the more the merrier. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“No, of course not. No one should ever be alone on Thanksgiving.” His mother’s forehead furled and she bit her lip as if contemplating her next question. He could have saved her the bother, because he sure as hell knew where she was headed, but he loved watching her.
“Is she really…” Marnie found another invisible crumb, which she promptly took care of. “Well, your father told me she was on one of those silly reality television shows. Is that true?”
Jake shook his head. “No. That would be her sister.” He gave his mother a quick hug. “I’m going to head out for a run before I shower.”
“All right, honey. Dress warm, you don’t want to get a chill. And Jake?”
Jake paused in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“How is Lily’s brother?”
His hand fisted at his side as all the tension inside him reared up and grabbed hold as tight as it could. “Blake is still in the hospital.” He paused as an image of the young soldier flashed before his eyes. Hair as blond as Lily’s, matted through with blood and gore. “He’s in a coma, and the doctors aren’t sure he’ll ever wake up.”
“Oh.” His mother turned and began to fill her pans with the dough she’d kneaded earlier. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah.” There was nothing to say. The lightness of the morning was gone.
Jake grabbed a jacket from the closet in the laundry room and less than a minute later ran outside, inhaling great gulps of fresh, cold air as the wind continued to howl and buffet the area. He followed the path that ran alongside the lake and after a while was able to clear his mind and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
He ran hard and fast, slipping through the dense bush that carpeted most of his parents’ property, and though there wasn’t any conscious thought, he wasn’t surprised when nearly an hour later he paused there at the edge of the forest along Raine’s driveway. He was drenched in sweat, his body hot and loose, and small puffs of mist fell from his nostrils as he watched the house in silence.
He inhaled sharply as the front door swung open and Raine appeared on the porch. It was past daybreak, though the cloud of gray still held sway, and she stood in the shadows that fell along the front of her house. Carefully she let a wiggling ball of fur loose and crossed her arms as she watched her puppy slide down the steps and rummage around the front yard in an effort to find the perfect place to pee.
God, she looked incredibly frail, and the big robe she wore did nothing but emphasize the fact.
The dog ran in circles and barked crazily for several minutes while Raine hugged herself and shivered in the early morning dampness. Jake shook his head. She was going to get sick if she didn’t get her butt back into the warmth of the house soon. He took a step forward but something stopped him. What was the point?
They’d only fight. It was what they did. They pretty much disagreed about everything.
