“Then I’ll spare you the rest.” She shifted away from him, but he gently clasped her wrist.
“No. Tell me about Linney. Why you two are estranged.”
He released her and Jenna returned to the sofa, needing to sit as not only the jagged feelings tore into her, but the alcohol also hummed through her system. She felt a little lightheaded. Welcomed the inevitable numbing effect. Helped it along by sipping some more.
She tucked her legs alongside her hip and said, “We were back in the Bay Area right around the time Linney turned eighteen. For this trip, we stayed in Walnut Creek. Linney came into the city several times on her own. When we were ready to roll out a few weeks later, she told us she’d met a boy who said she could stay with him and his roommates in the city. He got her a job on the Wharf. Some souvenir shop where she could cashier.”
Tad didn’t say a word as he sat next to her.
Jenna continued. “At first, I was so excited. Here was our great escape, right?” Her chest pulled tight. “We could stay someplace we liked—San Francisco offered so many opportunities! I didn’t mind if we had to live in a cramped apartment—at least it didn’t have wheels. And I’d made money doing side work at restaurants and running errands for the owners. I could keep doing that. But Linney said no.” Tears pricked the backs of Jenna’s eyes. “She told me I couldn’t go with her.”
Jenna could recall that morning in the RV park like it was yesterday. And damn if the pain didn’t slice through her just as acutely, years later.
Her voice cracked when she said, “I pleaded with her, Tad. I begged her to take me with her. I cried. Then I begged some more.”
To this day, she still felt—to the core of her being—the hot flash of rejection in Linney’s eyes. “My sister told me this was her dream and that I had to find my own dream. And since I was only fifteen, she couldn’t take me with her.”
Tad took the martini glass from Jenna, because her hand started to shake and vodka sloshed over the side.
“She ripped my heart out,” Jenna said on a sharp breath.
Silence ensued. It took some time for her to continue.
Tears tumbled down her heated cheeks as she said, “Linney drove off. My parents packed up. As we left, I raced to the back of the RV and sat on my parents’ bed, staring out the back window. Crying a river, my hand pressed to the window, as though I actually had some sort of connection with my sister that would make her change her mind. Clearly… I didn’t.”
She sniffled.
“We drove for hours and I stared out that window, believing I’d see her boyfriend’s car catching up to us. I kept thinking they were somewhere behind us and eventually they’d flag us down and Linney would take me with her. Or stay. I didn’t care which. I just needed her to be with me.”
“Or you needed to be with her,” Tad quietly said. His hand closed over hers. “She was your only real friend. The one true constant in your life.”
“Yes.” Jenna couldn’t stop the waterworks if she’d tried. Emotion flooded her veins and a new wave of tears streamed down her face.
Tad pulled her to him and she sobbed. A body-wracking crying jag she hadn’t given into since that day in the RV when Linney had disappeared for good from her life. She’d even held it together when Rafe filed for divorce. But tonight, there was no holding back.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was something long overdue. Maybe it was because she was with Tad, and she trusted him with her heartbreak. The tears didn’t abate as he rocked her, whispered in her ear and smoothed her hair.
Jenna experienced a tinge of mortification over losing it so badly in front of someone. But Tad continued to console her, and she let the vodka cloud her mind, not fighting it.
Eventually, Jenna felt nothing at all…
Chapter Eight
Rafe knocked softly on the door.
Mere seconds later, Tad pulled it open. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Thanks for calling.”
Rafe stepped into the dimly lit suite. In a l
ow tone, he asked, “What happened?”
“Dirty martinis. Strong ones.”
“What?”
“Shh. She’s passed out and should probably stay that way. She’s exhausted. Cried herself to sleep, poor thing.”