“Is that Cindy?” I ask, bringing another photo up for a closer look.
Dusty cranes his neck. “Yep. That’s her and Jackson.”
Jace’s head whips toward us. I turn the photo so he can see. Both our moms tangled together, red-faced and laughing, Jackson in the background, flipping the bird at the camera. Jace pulls his lips between his teeth, but he can’t hide his feelings from me. I see them swirling in his eyes, a mix of melancholy and longing, anger and regret. All the feelings I feel when I see my own mother looking back at me from a life before I existed.
“Will you tell me about her?”
He pulls out the remaining chair and flips it around before straddling the seat and resting his arms along the back. “She was wild, fun, and so beautiful.” A wisp of a laugh blows free. “Thinking back, I never stood a chance. Pretty sure my only saving grace was the fact that her grandma hated my guts. You try to tell Sarah to do something, you could pretty much guarantee she’d do the exact opposite.”
Some habits die hard. It was that fire that made her a success in the first place. That drive to win, that incessant need to prove she could do anything she put her mind to. I always wished I could be like that.
Dusty touches my forearm. “I was devastated to hear of her passing. And I know we’ve only just met, but I’m here for you. In whatever capacity you need. Be it friend … or father.”
I offer a tight-lipped grin. “I appreciate that.”
When the white strip of hair breaks free, he tucks it back behind his ear. He catches my eyes tracing the movement. “It’s a genetic thing. I guess you managed to skate by it.”
I lick my lips and take a deep breath. “Not completely,” I say with a wry grin, reaching up to pluck out my lens.
His fingers catch under my chin. “Whoa.”
“Yeah.” I dip my head and pop it back in before looking up again. “Turns out, you gave me something after all.” Fear ripples across his features. He points at his ear as if to ask, but I answer his unspoken question before he gets the chance. “My hearing is fine. Just the eyes.”
He stares intently before his expression falls soft. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe she’s gone, and you’re here.”
“Me neither,” I reply with a nervous laugh.
This has to be the wildest piece of the puzzle yet. I hoped coming here would help me find my mother’s past, but I never expected to find my father. I can see what my mother liked about him. He’s rugged and handsome, yet a soft sweetness hides inside his multicolored gaze. I imagine leaving him was a choice she didn’t make lightly. But in doing so, she was forced to put it all behind her. She had to leave it in Texas for fear it would eventually drag her back.
We stay a bit longer, swapping stories about two different women with the same name. His, feral and free with dreams that could touch the sky and mine, cool and keen with a sharp wit that built her an empire.
In the end, I forgive her for keeping her secrets hidden. The details of her past were hers to cherish. Sharing them would onlycheapen the memories she stored inside her until the day she died.
Chapter sixteen
Awinding row of pretty daisies stretches out to my left. I dig a hole and drop another in, then fill it with the bucket of potting soil beside my knees. It’s my apology to Cindy after the way I treated her.
The hum of the lawnmower is the soundtrack to my work. Captained by Jace, he pushes it across the grass, then turns around and goes back the way he came. I try not to notice the ripple in his arms or the way the sunlight glistens on his sweaty skin. Jace may have been there for me during the Dusty debacle, but he’s made his feelings about me clear. I can’t mistake his kindness for anything more than what it was. I was a conquest and nothing more.
Still, I can’t help the way my body reacts every time he looks my way with that heated blue gaze. I took a course on drug prevention once when I was younger. They said a single hit of heroin is enough to make you addicted for life. That’s what he is. I had a taste, and now I crave more. Unfortunately, no treatment in the world could get Jace Wilder out of my system.
With all my flowers planted, I stand back and survey my work. Fading colors from dark to light, they flank the porch and curve around to a bright blue pot beside the stairs. Inside it, a beautiful array of dainty sunflowers face the sky.
I reach for the hose and give my new plantings a much-needed drink. The water trickles from the spigot. I turn the main source all the way up, but the spray still dribbles out too weak. When I peer into the hole to see if it’s clogged, the hose suddenly spews forth a torrent straight into my face. I drop the hose with a surprised scream only to be met with a deep rumble of dark laughter. Water drips from the tip of my nose and pools between my breasts. I turn toward Jace, my eyes narrowed as they lock with his.
The bucket of dirt still sits at my feet, a puddle of water sinking into the black muck. I sweep a handful into my fist and lob it in his direction. The hail of mud explodes on contact. It sticks to his chest, then falls to the ground in a lump.
“Oh, you fucked up, princess.” With another evil snicker, he runs toward me like a bull, snatching the lawn bag up on his way.
A river of clippings cascades over me. My jaw drops. They’re in my hair, my shirt, and stuck in my eyelashes. I shake like a dog. Grass flies everywhere, but I pay it no mind as I swipe up the hose and turn it on him next. He raises his hands to protect his face from the violent spray, but the ball’s in my court. I advance, soaking him from head to toe, taking delight that I’m the one with the upper hand for once, but my victory ends too soon.
He barrels through the violent rush and takes hold of the hose. My grip tightens. We wrestle to the ground, both unwilling to let it go, each of us soaked and cackling and covered in muddy grass.
But the water suddenly slows to a stop. I look up to find the source. Troy stands over us, red-cheeked, his face twisted in a scowl. “Get your hands off her, dick!”
Jace jumps to his feet. “You lookin’ for an ass whoopin’, McNamara?”
My heart riots. They step toe-to-toe, both out for blood. I scramble to my feet, slipping on the wet clippings to get between them before something bad happens. “It’s alright, Troy. He wasn’t hurting me. We were playing and got carried away.”