Lucky. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ able to use her car all the time. I really need wheels.”

      “I can’t afford a car, Danny.”

      “You could. If you were still a lawyer. If we were still a family. If you weren’t a drunk.”

      There now. Every one of the accusations stung like a bullet, just as his son intended. Sometimes Jake wanted a minute with his son—just one damn minute—when Danny wasn’t trying to wound him.

      But of course he’d earned those accusations. And all he could do now was hope that time—good meaningful time together—could start to heal that old, bad history. “Getting you a car isn’t just about having enough money to buy one.”

      “The hell it isn’t.”

      “Danny, come on, you’re a new driver. You know that you need more practice before you’ll be safe—or feel safe—on the road. It’s nuts to start out with a new car before you have some experience under your belt.”

      “You care about being safe on the road? You used to drive drunk.”

      “Yeah, I did. And I hope you never do. I hope you’re way smarter than me.”

      “That wouldn’t take much.” Danny made a left on Mack, where approximately five thousand cars were speeding toward home. Horns blared when the Honda accidentally straddled two lanes. Jake reached for an antacid. Then Danny tried another jibe. “Mom’s going out with some guys. Three of them, in fact.”

      “That’s nice.”

      “I’ll bet she’s screwing at least one.”

      Jake understood that this comment was supposed to be another way to hurt him. Danny assumed that he still cared what Paula did. And even though Jake should have known better than to bite, he couldn’t quite let this one go. “Don’t use words like that about your mother.”

      “Oh, that’s right. We’re not supposed to tell the truth about anything. We just lie and pretend everything’s okay, right? The way you lied about being an alcoholic. And about you and Mom staying together, that you were just going through a rough time but we’d all be fine.”

      Halfway through a yellow light, Danny gunned the engine and it stalled. The light turned red while they sat clogging the middle of the intersection. Sweat beaded on Jake’s brow. He said, “Take it easy. The other drivers can see you, so there’s no immediate danger. Just concentrate on getting the car started and going again.”

      On the inside, Jake marveled at the epiphany he kept getting from these practice driving sessions with Danny. You sure learned to value your life when it was constantly at risk.

      Besides that—and in spite of Danny’s sarcasm and surly scowls—Jake still felt the wonder of being with his son. It wasn’t a given. Danny hadn’t been willing to see him for most of the two years since the divorce—and God knew, that wouldn’t have changed if Danny wasn’t desperate to drive.

      Jake realized he was riding a shaky fence. He fiercely wanted to make things right for his son, yet there seemed no parenting rule book for this deal. The kid was always egging him on, pushing him to lose his temper. What was the right dad-thing to do? Be tough? Or be understanding? Give him the tongue lashing he was begging for, or keep proving to the kid that he’d never vent temper on him?

      Hard questions surfaced every time they were together. Jake didn’t mind the kid beating up on him—hell, he had a lot to make up for. But just once in his life, he’d like some answers. Some right answers. He was already a pro at the other kind.

      When Danny turned again, aiming down a side road toward Lakeshore, the boy suddenly muttered, “Julie’s house is down here.”

      Abruptly the kid slowed to a five-mile-an-hour crawl—which was fine by Jake—until Danny made another left. Four homes down from Sacred Julie’s house was the Crandall place. Jake spotted a BMW pulling into the driveway. Saw Graham Crandall climb out of the driver’s seat. Saw the passenger door open.

      And there was Kasey.

      His pulse bucked like a stallion’s in spring—just like it had the first time he’d seen her. The kick of hormones struck him as incontestable proof that a man had no brain below his waist…still, it made him want to laugh. The last time he remembered that kind of zesty hormonal kick, he’d been sixteen, driving Mary Lou Lowrey home from a movie, and 51% sure from the way she kissed him that she was going to let him take her bra off. Second base was hardly a home run, but sixteen-year-old boys were happy with crumbs. Even the promise of crumbs. At that age, the thrum of anticipation alone was more than worth living for.

      Hormones were undeniably stupid, but damn. They made a guy feel busting-high alive and full of himself—a sensation Jake hadn’t enjoyed in a blue moon and then some.

      Temporarily his son diverted him from the view—primarily because he was doing something to torture both the gears and the brakes simultaneously. “Danny, what are you trying to do?”

      Danny shot him an impatient look. “Parallel park, obviously.”

      “Ah.” Perhaps it should have been obvious. They’d edged up the curb, down the curb, up on the stranger’s grass, down on the grass, several times now. Ahead of them was a freshly-washed SUV, behind them a satin-black Audi. In principle there was an ample ten feet between the cars. “Try not to go quite so close—”

      “Well, this is hard,” Danny groused. “How the hell are you supposed to know where the back end of another car is if you can’t see it?”

      But he could see her. Kasey, climbing out of the passenger seat, holding a small pink blanket. She hit him exactly the same way she had before—as if he were suffering the dizzying, stupefying effect of a stupid pill.

      The darn woman wasn’t any prettier than she’d been the first time. No makeup. Her rusty-blond hair was wildly tousled. She was wearing some God-awful green print that overwhelmed her delicate features. But the details just didn’t matter.

      The sound of her laughter pealed down the street. She didn’t laugh like a lady; she laughed as if her whole heart and belly were into it, joyful laughter, the kind of hopeless giggling that sucked in strangers passing by.

      And the way she held the baby, it was damn obvious the kid was worth more than diamonds to her. As Graham crossed the car to her side, she climbed out, then surged up on tiptoe and kissed him. She looked up at him with a love so radiant and full that you’d think Graham was everything a woman ever dreamed of in a guy.

      And there it was, Jake mused wryly. He got it, the reason he had such a hard time looking away from her. It was plain old jealousy.

      He knew damn well no one had ever looked at him like that.

      No one’s fault for that but him. He’d grown up a spoiled rich kid, raised to be selfish, to feel entitled, to take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. God knew his parents only meant to love him, but that upbringing had still skewed his perspective. It had taken his losing everything for Jake to figure out what mattered. He’d run out of time. Either he got around to developing some character, or he was going to end up lost for good.

      An alcoholic—at least an alcoholic who was serious about recovering—discovered certain things about life. There were things you couldn’t do. Other people could. You couldn’t. Life was СКАЧАТЬ