Reason Is You (9781101576151) (14 page)

I blew out a breath and backed up a little. I was bewildered by the whole scenario. He was there all day, changing from Jekyll to Hyde instead of cleaning up. He wouldn’t answer his phone. He didn’t come back to work.

“Whatever,” I said, flailing a hand as I turned. “Glad you’re alive. See you later.”

“Hang on,” he said, his back still to me. His tone was irritable, as if he’d really rather I
not
hang on.

“It’s good, Jason.” I headed for the rail.

“Dani.”

It was just my name, but the tone and reverberation of it made me turn. His expression made me stay there.

His eyes were red and angry, his jaw hard. He looked as if every nerve ending might pop all at once. But behind the anger was something almost palpable, even from several feet away. Something raw.

He gestured jerkily toward the door. “You can come in if you want.”

Did I want? Hell, I had no idea anymore.

“Um—”

“Please.”

I met his eyes and frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and motioned for me to come in again. Crap. I walked past him slowly, past the festered shrimp funk, and looked around again. There wasn’t much more to see except a hallway that I assumed led to bed and bath. From that angle, there was another wall of built-ins with doors. The whole thing was a genius use of space, giving a sense of more than was really there.

Jason shut the door and rubbed at his face and hair absently, shoving a lock of hair up. I thought he looked disheveled back in the bait room, but he was definitely on a downslide.

“What’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

He reflexively looked down at his cell clipped to his jeans.

“No, your home phone. I couldn’t find your cell.”

“I wasn’t here,” he said. “I just got here about ten minutes before you did.”

I opened my mouth to ask the next obvious question, but he held out a hand.

“Can you give me a minute?” He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off before I could blink. “I need to go get this off me, I can’t stand it anymore.”

I just nodded. My tongue tied itself in knots at the sight of him shirtless. He was muscled and hot and at that moment I didn’t even care if he’d rolled in pig manure first.

“Just—sit down.” He motioned to a comfortable chair in front of a TV. “I’ll be back in a second, and I’ll explain it all.”

“Okay.”

Not that I had many options. I could leave, but then I’d miss the encore. And I cared much less about where he’d been all day than I did about seeing him come out shirtless and clean and smelling good. Maybe even in a towel.

“Jesus, Dani, get a grip,” I mumbled as I sank into the chair.

Water came on down the hall, and my eyes fell on one of the photographs across the room. A black-and-white one of a little boy gazing out a window. I got up for a closer look. Same dark hair, intense eyes staring out at the world. To the right of that photo was another one of the same boy, grinning at the camera with construction-paper bunny ears.

As I moved around the room, to the wall photos, the framed ones on the shelves, all the pictures contained some version of Jason’s son. Alone, with friends, with grandparents, with Jason. Nothing with his mother, I noticed.

I stepped around the table and my hip nudged the package. When I moved it back, I noticed it was addressed in black Sharpie
from Jason to Connor Miller in Kenington. That was about an hour west of Restin. An equally black stamp
RETURN TO SENDER
was plastered across it.

“Oh no,” I said softly as I ran my fingers over the offending words. I didn’t know the details, but I was pretty sure this was the root of it.

I picked up a framed photograph of the two of them in baseball uniforms, Jason’s arm across his son’s shoulders. Jason was evidently the coach, and they posed all serious and manly.

“That’s the last picture we took together.”

I whirled around and jumped so hard I was lucky not to drop it.

“Shit, you scared me.” I returned the frame to the shelf, careful to fit it back to the faint shape in the dust. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snoop.”

He was shirtless again, God help me, in a pair of jeans, barefoot, and his hair still damp.

“Actually, when people say that, they just didn’t mean to get caught.”

I held up my hands. “Swear to God, I didn’t steal anything. Your photos just sucked me in.” I motioned around the room. “I love pictures.”

He nodded and walked to the fridge. “All I have is water and orange juice. Want something?”

“I’m fine.”

He snatched a bottle of water for himself and took a long swig, then looked at me.

“Time got away from me today, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just have an overactive mind, I guess.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were actually worried about me?”

I felt my neck heat up. “I was
concerned
. You did get walloped with a pissed-off hose today, after all.”

A small smile softened his face. “Well, thank you for the
concern
, then. How’s the bait room?”

“Still a little soggy, but better.”

Jason nodded absently. His face went dark again as he ambled toward the table. He touched the name written on the package and landed heavily in the nearest chair.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Leave him with his thoughts? Sit down with him? Offer a body massage? I pulled out a chair and sat.

“I didn’t believe it when his present showed up back here today,” he said finally, not looking up. “Thought there had to be an explanation.”

I waited.

“I was there day before yesterday. He was distant but at least past hating me. I told him something special was on the way.” He ran a hand across the package. “I couldn’t wait for him to get it. Then it showed up here.”

“Did you call?” I asked.

“Yeah. Told him happy birthday and that for some reason his gift came back.”

“Didn’t he understand that?”

“He hung up.” Jason’s jaw tightened. “Shocked the hell out of me. I called over and over and finally got his mother. She said she’d sent it back because he didn’t want it.”

I closed my eyes. That wouldn’t be good.

“So, I just got in the car and went there. Just like I was—not thinking. He was at a swimming party with a few kids and of course I embarrassed him.”

“He’ll get over that.”

“I won’t,” he said flatly. “He used to be so proud to be with me. He was my little man. We were tight. And now—he’s so angry. He was
embarrassed
of me.”

“It’s the age,” I attempted.

“No. It’s his mother.” He looked back down at his hands. “When
we first split a year ago, he was okay. Sad, but okay. They moved to Texas to be closer to her family, so I followed to be closer to him.”

“Understandable.”

“Something happened after that. He won’t take my calls. And she won’t talk to me about it. I don’t know what the deal is; they’re both avoiding me.”

I smelled a new man in the picture.

“Do you think he’s just mad about the divorce?” I asked. “I mean, sometimes kids act out and then blame the one who left.”

“I didn’t leave. She did.”

I bit my lip. “Oh. Sorry.”

“He might not realize that, though. I tried to make it easy on everyone. I never made a fuss over it. I didn’t fight her. Maybe I should have. Maybe he thinks I didn’t care.”

“Jason, I’m sure he knows—”

“Really? How are you sure?”

I was taken aback. “What?”

He shook his head and rose from his chair. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve never told anyone my private business.”

I frowned. “I didn’t ask you to tell me anything. I was just listening.”

“Well, I’m sorry I bothered you with it.”

Clearly, I was dismissed. “Bother me? I’m getting whiplash right now. That’s bothering me.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not good company right now. It’s been a long day.”

I glared up at him and got up. “Really now?” I dug my keys from my pocket and turned for the door. “Sorry for your day.”

I was out and down the ramp and across the dock before he could say another word. I kicked myself for caring. For feeling bad for him. For letting my guard down.

I threw my car into gear and drove the minute around the cove
to my dad’s house, blind with annoyance. Bojangles met me at the door again, but he didn’t get the love he wanted.

“Men are pigs, Bo. No offense.” He didn’t look offended.

No one was home yet, and that was a good thing. I needed to unwind. Look at that album, maybe take a nap. But it wasn’t in the living room or on the shelves. It wasn’t in my room or Riley’s.

“What the hell?”

Irritated but too tired to spend more time on the chase, I flopped onto the living room couch. I only remember one or two thoughts before I succumbed to the black hole. And both of them involved Jason.

I awoke to the smell of cornbread, but I couldn’t pull myself out. Lack of sleep had a firm grip on me and it tugged me back down. It took Riley’s laughter in the distance to finally pull me out of my coma. I sat up and got my bearings, which threw me when the windows were all dark.

I wandered into the kitchen to see my dad ladling chicken gumbo into bowls for Riley and Grady. Oh yeah. Memory dawned. Hanging out after work. God, I felt like I’d slept for a year.

“Hey.”

All three heads turned my way.

“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad said, nodding my direction. “My gosh, what did you do?”

I rubbed at my face and winced at the bruise. “Oh yeah. Little equipment malfunction at work.”

He put down his ladle to come tip my chin up like I was eight and peer at my war wound. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just finally gave in to sleep deprivation, I guess. God, I feel drugged.”

“Hey, Mrs. Shane,” Grady said as he waved a spoon at me. “Riley invited me to eat.”

I gave him a thumbs-up. “Cool.” I remembered the album. “Hey, Ri, what did you do with that album today?”

“Put it in your room,” she said around a sneaked bite of cornbread.

“I didn’t see it.”

Riley shrugged, and I was too foggy to care. I grabbed a bowl and decided I needed sustenance. I went out on the front porch with it and a glass of sweet tea and settled into the swing. I breathed in some of the best night air we’d had in a long time. Dry and humidity free. A full moon lit up the porch. It was beautiful.

“Yes, it is.”

I turned to my left to see Alex against the rail.

“You read minds, now?”

“Just a guess.” He pushed off and came to join me on the swing carefully. “It’s a great night.”

I took a big bite of butter-soaked cornbread. “To follow up a sucky day.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Men are assholes.”

Alex started to laugh. “Cut to the point, there.”

“It is what it is.”

He looked down wistfully. “Supper looks good.”

“Mm-hmm. Dad’s gumbo is the best.”

“I miss food.”

I looked at him. “Can you smell it?”

He shook his head. “No, but I remember smelling it. Tastes. Touch.” He met my eyes.

I swallowed, and it had nothing to do with the food. We sat in comfortable silence as I ate, and I couldn’t help but wish for that in a real way.

“Did you used to do this sort of thing with your wife?”

Alex looked at me like I’d sprouted wings. We never talked about his life much. Or at all, really. It always turned back to me.

“What?”

“This.” I held my hands out. “Just being together sharing space.”

He smiled and looked off where the darkness soaked up the trees, lost in his memories, I guessed.

“Yeah, I guess we did. We had a back patio we used to sit on. We’d put bird food out and watch the birds and squirrels fight it out.”

I was stunned. A piece of Alex’s life. I was almost afraid to acknowledge it for fear he’d realize the blunder and stop. He caught me staring and did a double take.

“What?”

I looked away and laughed lightly. “Nothing. You just—never talk about that.”

“About birds?”

I gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

He let out a sigh and looked away again. “That was so long ago, Dani.” He got up slowly. “Walk with me.”

W
E
strolled down the steps, through the yard, up the gravel road. The stars were pale with such a bright moon, but the sky was perfect.

“What was her name?” I finally asked.

Alex put his hands in his pockets, eyes focused downward as if he were studying the dirt pass under our feet.

“Why?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Because in all these years, I’ve hardly learned anything about you.”

“You’ve never asked.”

I shrugged. “I was young, Alex. Selfish.” I peeked at his profile. “I’m asking now.”

We walked a few more feet and I felt his eyes on me. “Her name was Sarah.”

I felt a lump harden in my stomach. Sarah. Sarah and Alex. Alive. I cleared my throat as my ears started to ring a little.

“How did you meet?”

“At work.”

“At—I don’t even know what you did—God, how horrible am I?”

Alex laughed. “I had two jobs, actually. I worked at a bank during the day, and a boat shop most nights.”

“Wow, that’s pretty different.”

“Well, the boat shop was my dad’s, so I grew up in there.” He chuckled. “Later on, I did it more as an apology than a need.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was supposed to take the business and I caved to the white-collar world instead.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” We passed a few more steps in silence.

“Are your parents still alive?” I asked.

“I’d be in my seventies, Dani.”

“Oh yeah, guess not.” I toed a rock. “So you were a banker.”

He laughed. “Hardly. I was a peon.”

“And that’s where you met Sarah?” That was weird, to say her name. His expression showed the same thing.

“Yeah.”

I let a moment pass. “What was she like?”

At his pause I chanced a look, and saw the trace of a smile on his lips. I was instantly hit with a pang to the heart. Then he looked at me and I looked away.