Getting Married Again. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ and return to the house.

      As if sensing he’d pushed some limit, Jackson said, “You’ll remind me tomorrow why we can’t be together, won’t you?” His words were tangled with bitterness. “Damn it, Lex.”

      “Don’t.” She placed her fingers over his lips. His warm breath wafted across her skin. She’d done her duty. She’d soothed whatever had unsettled him inside so that he had a better chance of getting some sleep. “I’m going inside now.”

      Lexie felt his lips tighten as if in a frown. She pulled her fingers back and rested her hand on her belly.

      He released her other hand.

      “Before you go, can you…can you tell me about Deb?”

      Lexie had to close her eyes against the tears. Deb was Lexie’s best friend, and had been since high school. “You heard she’s dying.” Leaving behind two beautiful, nine-year-old twin girls. Lexie stroked the baby in her tummy.

      “Logan wouldn’t tell me much.”

      “She’s got an inoperable brain tumor. By the time they diagnosed her, it was too late for chemo.” Lexie swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and tried to lighten her tone. “You should see her. She’s so strong and brave about it, it makes you feel guilty when you feel like crying in front of her.”

      He leaned back against the truck. “And the girls?”

      “They’re scared, but I don’t think they believe she’s really going to die. They still believe their mom is invincible. Logan’s the one who treats her like glass. I don’t talk with him much about Deb.”

      He mulled that over for a bit. “Thanks for telling me.”

      “You’re welcome.” Lexie turned back to the house. She’d survived that encounter well. They hadn’t hugged or kissed. She hadn’t ended up in a motel room with him. They seemed to be almost on friendly terms. Lexie thought she could handle their relationship turning into friendship.

      “Lex?”

      She paused, looking over her shoulder.

      “Will you marry me?”

      “SHE’S NOT TAKING ME BACK.” Jackson leaned against the door frame of his mother’s office in the Painted Pony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The Hot Shot in him felt as if he should act like he didn’t care—be strong, be a man—while the rest of him felt bruised, spent and in need of a rest. Lexie and Heidi had just witnessed a display of his weakness.

      He could still hear Heidi’s voice. “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

      And then to limit himself to holding Lexie’s hands in the darkness, trying to draw her back emotionally into the past where their love had been strong, only to have her put a friendly distance between them. Reclaiming their love seemed hopeless.

      He doubted his mother would be able to put a bandage on his heart, kiss his brow and make him feel better. She couldn’t fix a broken heart or give him back his courage. He didn’t care, as long as he could get some rest and perhaps a bit of her advice.

      His mother looked at him over the top of her reading glasses. Bills, invoices and receipts were scattered across her desk. An old calculator was perched at her elbow. Jackson recognized the distracted look in her eyes. She was focused on something and didn’t want to be disturbed.

      “She told you she’s not taking you back?” his mom asked.

      “Several times.” It was easier to talk about his failed marriage than his grim future. With a sigh, Jackson walked over to the kitchen cupboard and took out two fluorescent light bulbs. “The light isn’t strong enough in here for you to be reading that fine print.”

      As he replaced the burned-out bulbs in the ceiling above her, Jackson felt his mother’s scrutiny. Any time now, she’d tell him what she thought he should do. When he was finished, he stood next to her desk. Only, she’d returned her attention to her work.

      “I was chugging along until you came in. I’ve got a bridge game tonight, you know.” His mother focused on the stacks of paper in front of her.

      Jackson sank into a chair next to the desk. Waiting. She’d start lecturing him any time now.

      His mother added up a stack of invoices. She jotted the figure down on a yellow pad, then slipped the papers into a folder. Jackson drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

      “I’m about to become a father for the second time. And I’m not sure what to do about it.”

      Without acknowledging him, his mother began to add up a pile of receipts.

      Jackson leaned forward. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

      She stared at him over the top of her glasses again. “About what?”

      “About me. About my life and how I screwed it up.”

      “We’ve had that discussion. More than once. We disagreed, as I recall.” She straightened the pile of receipts and began to add them up a second time.

      “Let’s have it again.”

      “Jackson, I don’t have time for this.”

      “She’s not going to take me back.” His voice sounded weak and pitiful. He pushed himself out of the chair, telling himself that at thirty a man shouldn’t need his mother’s advice. “Never mind.”

      “Jackson—”

      “I know you said I couldn’t stay with you, but I really need a place to bed down until I get back on my feet. I’ll bring a sleeping bag out of the garage so you won’t have to wash any sheets.” He started down the hall.

      “Of course you can stay with me. You’re always welcome home. I was joking earlier.”

      “My home is on Lone Pine Road.” There was that defeated tone of voice again. He walked quickly toward the back door, away from people he knew in the Pony’s dining room, as if he could escape the fact that he’d lost his family for good. Never mind that he’d already lost the guts to fight fires.

      “Jackson, you don’t need a sleeping bag. You can sleep in your old room. How you’ll fit into that single bed is beyond me. Although I know you and Lexie spent some time there in your youth.”

      He hesitated, head hung at the reminder of the love he once had. His mom laid her hand on his shoulder.

      “I didn’t mean to ignore you.” She chuckled once. “Well, maybe just a little. I do need to finish the monthly expenses before I go to Birdie’s. And it was the only way I could stop myself from giving you advice.”

      The pressure that had built on Jackson’s chest eased a bit. There had been two constants in his life after his father died—Lexie and his mother. “You know I always listen to what you say.”

      She chuckled again. “You may listen, but I know you don’t hear me.”

      Jackson spun around, reached for his mom and squeezed her tight. She СКАЧАТЬ