Loving You (22 page)

Inside, there was warmth and laughter and a sense of—she didn't want to use the word
family
. But that's what leaped to the front of her mind. Somehow, someway, Nick Candellano had insinuated himself so deep into their lives that it wouldn't be only Jonas to miss him when he eventually left—and he
would
leave, she knew. He wasn't here because he wanted to be. He'd be here only long enough to straighten out this situation with Jonas. Then he'd be gone. Back to his own life. Back to his own world—where little boys and former-runaway beauticians weren't wanted and didn't belong.

At the thought of him leaving, though, she felt a twinge of something she was pretty sure was pain—and she resented it. She hadn't asked Nick to step into her life and screw with it. She hadn't
wanted
a man to wake up feelings she'd thought long buried. And now she didn't
want
him to go, damn it. But she wasn't the important one here.

“Then what happened?” Jonas asked breathlessly, his gaze locked on Nick.

Nick moved the salt and pepper shakers around on the table, representing opposing football players, then slid the Parmesan cheese—
him
—around both of them toward an invisible goal line. “I faked 'em both out, did a half-turn and swept around one side—then made a dash for the end zone.
Touchdown!
”

Jonas cheered as if the play had just happened.

Nick grinned, first at the boy, then at Tasha. The full power of that grin hit her hard, and her breath staggered in her lungs. Thankfully, he shifted his gaze back to Jonas a heartbeat later and Tasha could breathe again.

“I wish you were still playing so I could go and watch you,” Jonas said wistfully.

Nick sighed. “I wish I was still playing, too.” Then
he shrugged. “I could take you to the stadium, show you around.”

Jonas practically vibrated in his chair.

Tasha tensed.
Take him to the stadium
. There it was. A blatant symbol of how much ground she was losing. Nick strolled in and lit up Jonas's world like Vegas at midnight and Tasha was the drag. The homework tyrant. Nick was vacation. Tasha was drudgery.

Nick would take him
.

Resentment pooled in the pit of her stomach as her gaze slid toward Nick. Focused on Jonas, the man was unaware of her fury, and even while she admitted that, she told herself she was overreacting. He wasn't saying he was going to throw the boy in an RV and hit the road. It was just a visit to the stadium.

God, she was losing it completely.

“Can I see the locker room?” Jonas asked.

“You bet.” Nick took a drink of his iced tea. “I'll take you out onto the field, too.”

“Wow, cool.” Jonas's eyes shone with anticipation and an excitement that worried Tasha. The boy was flying so high, the inevitable fall was bound to crush him.

Sympathy welled up inside her as she watched the sparkle in Jonas's eyes and the delighted grin that split his features as he responded to Nick. She glanced across the table to Nick and watched his expressions shift and change as he launched into yet another story about his football-playing days. Looking back at Jonas, she saw how the boy ate it all up. Every word soaked into him as though he were a sponge and Nick a puddle.

How long before that sparkle was gone—replaced by tears? And how would she be able to help Jonas
through the misery when she, too, would be wrapped up in pain?

Tasha reached for her coffee and took a long sip. How had Nick done it? For years, she'd protected her heart, guarded it against everyone—until Mimi. And then Jonas. For them, she'd opened herself up to the risk of pain, but she'd found love. And a family—and they'd filled all but one of the empty corners of her heart. She'd been happy, damn it. Happier than she'd ever thought to be. Then Mimi was gone, but even through the pain of loss and the fear of losing Jonas, there'd still been the comfort of the world she'd created and her place in it. Now Nick was here and everything was unsettled again.

He'd sneaked past her defenses. She hadn't seen him coming. Hadn't thought she would respond as, no doubt, countless women before her had responded to him. And now that she had, she didn't have a clue what to do about it.

“What do you think, Tasha?”

“Hmm?” She blinked, disoriented as if waking up from a nap, and shifted a glance at first Jonas, then Nick. “Think about what?”

“Jonas asked me to take him to the father-son camp-out next month.”

Oh, Jonas
. Her heart ached for the little boy who so wanted to be just like the other guys. He'd never had a father-son weekend. The closest he ever came was tagging along with Alex and his father. And though Mr. Medina was a sweetheart and worked hard to treat Jonas just as he did his own son, she knew Jonas felt the difference. He'd been on the outside looking in for too long. Like a kid with his nose pressed against a toy store window, he watched while everyone else played.

She knew he wanted it, but damn it, she wished he'd said something to her first. Maybe she could have talked him out of it. But as she looked into the boy's big brown eyes, she knew that was a forlorn hope.

“Jonas…”

“It'd be great, Tasha,” the boy said, words racing out of his mouth in a wild attempt to keep her from popping his balloon. “Alex and his dad are going again and we could camp next to them and—”

“Jonas, I'm sure Mr. Medina would let you go with him and Alex again.”

His features twisted into a mask of stubbornness she recognized. When his heart and mind were set on something, Jonas had a head like a rock. “I don't want to go with them. I want to go with my own dad.” He looked at Nick. “You'll go, won't you?”

Tasha looked at him, too. She waited for him to say
something
. To remind the boy that none of them knew for sure that Nick was his father. That they shouldn't take the relationship for granted. But he didn't say any of that. He looked as though he wanted to sprint for the door, but to give him his due, he met Jonas's hopeful, nearly desperate gaze calmly.

“I, uh—”

“We don't have to stay the whole weekend,” Jonas said, trying to make it easy.

“Jonas,” Tasha put in, wanting to help and not sure what to do about it.

“It's not that,” Nick said, and flicked a quick look at Tasha before turning back to face Jonas. “But a father-son thing is pretty important and—”

“I know,” Jonas interrupted him, and there was just the slightest shine of panic in his eyes now. Tasha's heart ached for him. It was as if he knew and feared
he was losing ground, so he scrambled even harder. “That's why I want to go. 'Cause you're my dad and I want everybody to know and—”

“I know, but—” Nick started.

“Jonas,” Tasha interrupted them both. She wasn't sure why. Maybe if she'd let Nick ramble a few more minutes, he might have gotten around to a little truth telling. To try to ease the boy down from the cloud of dreams he'd been drifting on for days. But she'd never know that now. “Jonas, why don't you let Nick think about it for a day or two? I'm sure he's got to check to see if he's free or not.”

Disappointment turned Jonas's spine into a noodle. He slumped bonelessly in his chair, and for a minute Tasha was afraid he'd just ooze right down onto the floor. Then he found an outlet. He kicked one sneakered foot against the table leg and rattled the dishes.

“Jonas…”

“I'll go.”

“All right!” Instantly Jonas shot straight up in his chair and punched one fist high in victory. “That's
so
cool. It's gonna be great. You'll see. You'll like it and we can cook over a fire and…”

While Jonas rambled excitedly, Nick shifted a look at Tasha and shrugged helplessly.

Tasha bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from saying something she didn't want Jonas to hear. Didn't Nick see that the more time he gave the boy, the more it would tear Jonas apart when Nick's visits ended? Didn't he know that by facing the truth of the situation, no matter what it was, he would be doing Jonas a favor? Didn't he care?

Facing the truth wouldn't be easy for
her
, either. If Nick was Jonas's father, then she would lose him to a
man she wasn't sure deserved him. If Nick
wasn't
his father, then she still stood a good chance of losing this child of her heart to the state. But even she couldn't let the situation drift endlessly.

When she thought she could talk without shrieking, she interrupted the boy's excited monologue, “You're finished eating, Jonas, so go up and do your homework.”

“Aw, Tasha.…” He flipped his hair back out of his eyes and that one little action sparked something inside her.

“And tomorrow, I'm cutting your hair.”

He looked horrified. “No way.”

“You're going blind.”

“I can see okay.”

“Not for long.”

Jonas blew out an impatient breath. “Tasha, I gotta talk to Nick about the camp-out and—”

But Nick was standing up, shaking his head. “A smart man knows when not to argue with a woman,” he said. “We'll talk later. Right now, you go on and do your homework.”

“Aw … all right.” Disgusted but moving, Jonas slid out of his chair and started for the stairs. Feet shuffling, head down and shaking in disgust, he muttered, “Sometimes being a kid just sucks.”

“You ain't seen nothin' yet,” Nick said softly.

But Tasha hardly noticed—she was just too stunned. Hurt warred with disbelief and ballooned in her chest until it was painful just to breathe. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, keeping them at bay by sheer force of will.

She listened to Jonas's footsteps as he slogged up the stairs like a beaten man. Every step hammered
against her heart. Every stomp echoed in her mind. She was losing him. Little by little, she was losing the boy who meant everything to her.

And she didn't know how to stop this runaway train headed for disaster. Upstairs, Jonas's bedroom door slammed, and she winced at the crash.

“What's wrong?”

Tasha stared at Nick and shook her head. He didn't get it. He didn't even know what had just happened. What he'd done. Damn it. She was hurt and he was clueless.
So
not a good sign.

“Tasha?”

She swallowed past the knot lodged in her throat and forced air into her lungs. God, she wanted to tell him. But admitting anything now would just give him more power over her. Once he knew he could hurt her, he'd do it again. People always did. It was human nature. So she lied. Something she'd been doing too much of since meeting him. “Nothing.”

“You're a lousy liar. Have I mentioned that before?”

She fixed him with a glare that should have curled his hair. “And as an expert, you would know, right?” Tasha stood up, too, and walked toward the living room. Toward the front door, which she would open and wait for Nick to walk through.

“Where'd that come from?” He caught up with her in a few long steps. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her to a stop before she could get across the room. His brown eyes narrowed on her and he had the nerve, she thought, to look confused. And insulted.

Tasha yanked free of his grip and pushed one hand through her hair, dragging her nails along her scalp. Just to distract herself from the lingering pain inside. Keeping her voice low to make sure Jonas didn't overhear
anything, she said, “I don't want to talk about it. Just never mind.”

“Oh, no.” He laughed shortly, but there was no humor in the quiet, harsh sound. “None of that female mind game shit.” He flicked a glance past her toward the staircase, then looked back into her eyes again. “Say what you mean and don't give me that old ‘if you don't know then I'm not going to tell you' crap.”

Tasha swung her hair back and glared up at him. She wanted to scream at him and couldn't. Her voice came in a low hush that scraped her throat and fed her pain. “I don't
have
to say anything to you. Except good-bye.”

She took another step, but he grabbed her arm again. Tasha blew out a frustrated breath and stared down at his hand on her arm until he let her go again.

“I just want to know what the hell I did wrong. How'd we go from
Leave It to Beaver
to
The Twilight Zone
in less than ten seconds?”

“You watched too much TV as a kid.”

“Too much now, too. Not the point.”

“What
is
the point, then?”

“I want to know what the hell set you off. What bug, exactly, crawled up your ass and died?”

“That was charming,” she said with a tight smile. “Thanks.”

“Fine. I'm a pig with no manners. Just curiosity. So talk.”

“You don't get it at all, do you?”

He snorted a laugh and glanced around the empty room as if looking for witnesses to speak up on his behalf. “I think I've made that pretty clear, yeah.”

“You told Jonas what to do.”

“What?”

“You told him to go do his homework.”

He stared at her for a long minute. “You're kidding, right?”

“
And
he did it.”

“This is nuts.” He shook his head and watched her through wide, confused eyes. “You're still talking in circles. Cut the female mind warp and just say what's buggin' you.”

“
You
are bugging me.” She poked at his chest with her index finger. “You and your ‘I'm so great and every kid's dream of a dad' attitude.”

“I'm nobody's idea of a great dad. Never said I was.”

“You didn't have to. You roll in here with your Corvette and your ‘Hi, sport.'” She swaggered a little as she said that, in a ludicrous imitation of him, just for effect. “Who can compete with that? Not me,” she said, walking a slow circle around him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she kept talking, and as she did, she felt that knot in her throat tighten until she was pretty sure she was about to choke. Yet she couldn't stop. Couldn't let it go. “You're going to a father-son thing with him. I can't give him that. I'm just Tasha. Old news. You're the football hero come to save the day.” She circled in front of him and unfolded her arms long enough to poke his chest again, then kept walking. “And then you tell him to do homework and he does it. He took an order from you and fought it from me. He
did
what you told him to do.” Behind him now, she gave him a shove that didn't budge him an inch.