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But something niggles at my subconscious. Tells me Leo will use my life and how I spend my time as a weapon. Hold it over my head and taunt me.
Sure, several factors of my relationship and history with Clementine weigh in my favor, but Leo—and his family—have money. More money than fathomable. If Leo wants something bad enough, he will have no issue paying the “right” person to get the job done.
I toss my phone back in my purse, grip the steering wheel, and take a deep breath. I stare at the jagged bark on the old oak tree and lose focus. Taking this fraction of time for myself, I let my thoughts roam free.
How do I live life normally? Is there a way to blend how life was before I dated Jonas with us being together? A middle ground.
The last thing I want is to alienate Jonas—and Spartan—from my and Clementine’s life. In such a short period, they mean so much to us both. But I also don’t want to become complacent. Don’t want to rely on the assurances of my attorney—not that she isn’t brilliant, but I haven’t seen her in action yet—especially when the livelihood and well-being of my daughter is on the line.
Middle ground. At least for now.
Somewhere in the middle is better than nowhere at all. Right?
FOUR
JONAS
For the first time all week, the workday doesn’t feel forty hours long.
I cash out the final customer of the day, walk them out, and give my practiced business goodbye. Once they drive off, I lock the office door and join Dad in the garage as we close everything up for the night. Currently, we stow one vehicle as we work on extensive repairs, but most of our recent clients have been easy same-day jobs.
As I stash the last of the tools in bay one, Dad coughs to get my attention.
After Monday, I have kept to myself most of the week. Conversations with me have been nonexistent. I arrive at work, spend fifteen or so minutes in the office, work until lunch, sleep on the couch at lunch, then work until the garage closes. I mind my own business and only speak when absolutely necessary. Today may have been the only exception. I probably spoke a few more sentences. And I blame it all on the fact I will see Autumn and Clementine soon.
I glance over my shoulder at Dad but don’t say anything. His cough was intended to get my attention. Attention does not equal spoken words.
“How’re you holding up?”
I shrug. “Been a rough week. Haven’t seen my girls since Sunday night. But they’re coming over for dinner tonight, so…” I trail off and finish my task.
Unexpectedly, Dad sidles up to me and hugs my side. “Sorry you’re having a rough patch. And I know you don’t want to talk about it. But if that changes, you know we’re here for you.”
The Thompson family unit. Although all adults, we are a tight-knit bunch. We stand by each other no matter what. Mom and Dad instilled that in us. Even at their most annoying stages, Jasmine and Jillian have always been there when I needed them. Have given me the female perspective I sometimes require. And vice versa.
“Yeah, Dad. When Autumn is comfortable with me sharing, I’ll explain.”
Dad gives me another hug, this one front facing and more constricting than an anaconda. And I let him squeeze the air from my lungs as I revel in the love he passes on. And for a brief moment, I close my eyes and embrace him with equal fervor. Then he pats me on the back and releases me.
“Just keep reminding yourself everything will work out in the end. All you need to do is be there for her, however possible. Now get out of here and go home. I hear you have a date with two special ladies.”
A small smile curves up one corner of my mouth. “Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom I say hello. Have a good weekend.”
“Will do. You too.”
After I strip out of the coveralls, I throw on my jacket, zip it up, and hop on the bike. Helmet on, I spark the engine to life and drive home. The road mild with traffic as the wind whips the exposed skin between my helmet and collar. I don’t move to raise my collar and shield my neck. Instead, I let the bite remind me I am alive. Not only alive, but that I also get to see my girls tonight.
My girls.
Fuck, I have missed the hell out of them. Autumn’s cognac eyes and natural radiance. Clementine’s boisterous tendencies and sweet laughter. The way Autumn holds me close and breathes me in as if she never will again. How Clementine has full-blown conversations with Spartan as if they speak the same language.
Saying I miss them doesn’t seem sufficient enough. More like an afterthought or brush-off. No, being apart from them has me missing a piece of myself. A huge piece. An absence. And I will do whatever it takes to have them back. To make us whole.
I park the bike in the garage, set my helmet on a shelf near the door leading into the house, then head inside. Spartan immediately loses his shit the moment I set foot in the house. But this is typical, even if I leave for fifteen minutes. Spazz is his middle name.
“Chill out, I’m coming.” I shut off the radio and open the door on his crate. He flies out as if a wasp stung him in the hindquarters. “Wears the fire at, little man. Come on.” I point to the door that leads to the backyard. “Let’s go outside a minute. Then Dad needs to get to work.”
Spartan bolts outside the second I open the door. He locates the perfect blade of grass, lifts his leg, and does his business. Typically, he runs off after, but tonight he dashes back into the house. Like he knows his new best friend is coming over and he needs to prepare himself.
