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“She’s your girlfriend.”
“Mom...”
“Well? Do you?”
“Do I what?” As if you didn’t know...
“Good grief, Jase, don’t be so obtuse. Do you love Whitney, or not?”
Jase could admit that he enjoyed spending time with her. And that it felt pretty good, seeing a twinge of envy on other guys’ faces when he entered a room with the gorgeous blonde on his arm. But love?
“Mom, I—”
“Are you hesitating because you’re still in love with Lillie?”
“No way.” He tried to sound like he meant it. “You’re right. She messed up my head, bad. I have no desire to go through that again.”
“Not even now that she’s home again, supposedly cured of her addiction?”
Whitney couldn’t have told her about that, because to his knowledge, Whitney knew almost nothing about Lillie’s drug history. Unless...
“Please tell me you didn’t discuss Lillie’s past with Whitney.”
“What difference would it make if I did...if you’re over Lillie?”
“Whitney told you we ran into her and Liam today, didn’t she.”
“Yes. So?”
“So I don’t appreciate having my personal business broadcast all over town.”
She and Dora had both accused him of having trust issues. Was it any wonder!
Colette clucked her tongue. “First of all, I realize I’ve gained a few pounds, recovering from the TIA, but I’m certainly not big enough to be referred to as a whole town. And second, you were with Whitney when you ran into Lillie. I’d say that makes it her business, too. And if she wants to share a thing like that with me...” She shrugged. “Jase. Honey. I just want you to be happy.”
Almost word for word what Dora had said. Seemed a pretty feeble way to excuse their intrusion into his personal business.
“I pray every night that Whitney is the woman who’ll make your heart skip a beat, who’ll take your breath away. That she’ll make you smile just by walking into a room. Your father made me feel like that, right up until the end.”
And that, Jase believed, was part of the problem. As Lillie disappeared down the rabbit hole, over and over, he’d lost faith in her. Lost his confidence in his ability to tell the truth from a lie. How was he supposed to connect with a woman—or trust one for that matter—when he couldn’t trust his own judgment?
He was in too deep to change the subject now, so he said, “I don’t mind admitting, I’m a little envious of what you and dad had.”
“There’s something to be said for old-shoe comfort, for that spark that makes you...well, you know.” She giggled. “I tell you, that father of yours had the power to make me go weak in the knees with nothing more than a look. And when he kissed me?” She rested a hand over her heart, then finished with a mischievous wink. She threw back her head and laughed. Then, as suddenly as it began, her laughter subsided. “I have a question for you, son.”
“Uh-oh,” Jase said. “I’m almost afraid to hear it.”
She went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “When you kiss Whitney, does your heart skip a beat? Does the breath catch in your throat? Do your knees go weak?”
“That was three questions.”
“Despite my advancing age and allegedly frail condition, I’m not that easily distracted.”
Jase could answer all of her questions with a single word: no.
Because he’d felt that way only with Lillie.
He’d loved her, maybe too much, and it galled him that she’d chosen drugs over him.
Seeing her today proved two things. First, despite his denials, he still felt something for her. And second, self-preservation told him that he needed to smother it, fast.
Love without trust was a recipe for agony.
And he didn’t believe he had the mettle to lose her again.
CHAPTER THREE (#ub1a164b8-3279-57e1-8347-413af383bc39)
“THERE SHE GOES AGAIN,” Molly said, “with her ‘back in the old days’ reference.”
Since returning home, that was how Lillie referred to her life before the accident. The phrase inspired relentless teasing from her siblings—a whole lot easier to bear than the standoffish behavior they’d displayed prior to the repayment of every dollar borrowed and stolen—and her heartfelt apologies.
In response to her sister’s latest dig, Lillie said, “At least I didn’t commit marital alliteration. Matt and Molly, I mean really.”
“Marital alliteration?” Her brother reared back with mock surprise. “She dragged the dictionary out for that one, and much as I hate to admit it, she’s right!”
Arms crossed, Molly huffed. “You’re a fine one to talk, Sam, marrying a girl with the same name.”
Liam’s laughter filled the sunny yard as his wife said, “All right you guys, if you want to eat later, get back to work!”
The construction crew had completed the exterior work and moved inside to put the finishing touches on the kitchen addition. That left the outside clear for Lillie’s family to work on. Plants that had grown in beds around the old porch now stood in lopsided plastic pots along the back fence.
“Lillie, would you mind going around front to tend the rose garden? I know the crew tried to be careful, but they made a huge mess out there. You have the magic touch, maybe you can save them.”
Lillie grabbed a shovel, a trowel and her garden gloves. “Happy to, Mom.” And she meant it. Working out front would allow her to contribute to the cleanup project while ignoring the occasional sidelong glance or raised eyebrow, proof the family wasn’t entirely convinced of her trustworthiness.
After fertilizing and replanting several rose shrubs, Lillie decided to form a border around the bed by moving dozens of marigolds and zinnias from the side yard. Standing back, she gave her work an admiring nod. “Not bad if I do say so myself,” she said.
“Self-confidence looks good on you.”
Startled, she spun quickly around, nearly losing her balance. If Jase hadn’t grabbed both biceps, Lillie would have landed on the spade’s sharp blade. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d stood so close.
Blue eyes boring into hers, he said, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He turned her loose and took a step back, and she saw she’d left muddy handprints on his white shirt.
She removed her right glove and made a half-baked attempt to brush away the dirt. Sadly, it only made the mess worse. “Omigarsh. Look what I’ve done. I’m so sorry. And this looks like a freshly pressed shirt, too.” And his jeans were dark, making him appear taller and slimmer than she remembered.
“It’s okay. Couple squirts with some stain remover and it’ll be good as new.”
He pointed at the flowers. “Nice job. You always did have an artistic eye. And a gift for stuff like this.”
“Thanks.” Just as she had weeks ago outside the Flower Basket, Lillie struggled for the right words. But what could she say? She’d promised to call him and hadn’t. Would he see that as proof she was still untrustworthy?
“Guess your dad doesn’t have my number after all.”
So, his mindreading talents hadn’t faltered while she’d been in New York.
“He probably does, but to tell the truth, I never asked for it. I’ve been working a lot of extra hours, waiting tables and clerking at the hotel up the street. Unfortunately, I’m still a couple hundred dollars short of what I owe you.”
His Orioles cap shaded the upper half of his handsome face, but not enough to hide his furrowed brow.
“You don’t owe me anything, Lill. Really.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I do. If you’d like, I can write you a check right now, and pay the rest just as soon as I’ve earned it.”
Feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over his broad chest, he studied her. Because he hadn’t answered any of his questions? Or because of what she still owed him?
“Two jobs. In addition to helping out around here. When do you sleep?”
In fits and starts, she thought. A guilty conscience will do that to a gal.
She considered joking her way through a response, when he asked, “You have wheels?”
“I borrow Mom’s car when I need to drive someplace.”
“That’s gotta be tough on somebody like you.”
Somebody like her? This whole conversation felt forced. Stilted. Uncomfortable. Good as it was to see him again, she wished he’d just leave.
“What I mean is, you used to be so independent.”
Used to be, as in, before you became an out-of-control, thieving drug addict.
“So you’re walking to and from your jobs?”
“Unless it’s pouring rain. I’d walk then, too, if Mom didn’t insist that I drive.”
“Uh-huh.”
She wished he’d yell at her. Curse at her. Give her a stern talking-to. Anything was preferable to this oh-so-calm stoic demeanor that told her he didn’t care enough to let anything she did rile him. Right now, Lillie wished she’d spent a lot more time talking with her therapist about her feelings for Jase. Seeing him at the flower shop had rocked her, but not nearly as much as standing mere feet from him.
“So, which restaurant?”
“The Sip & Bite.”
“And I’m guessing since you’re hoofing it, you’re clerking at the inn at Henderson’s Wharf?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Why did he care? He didn’t love her anymore. The way you still—
“Why not wait tables in their restaurant?”
“There weren’t any openings when I applied. Besides, I can pretty much choose my schedule at the Sip & Bite. And the tips are great.”
Jase’s brows drew together. “Do you ever miss being onstage, singing?”
“I’ll say. It’s one of the reasons I started volunteering at Hopkins’ Children’s Oncology. Some days I sing to the kids, other days I paint faces.”
He thumbed his cap back, causing some of his shining black hair to fall forward, hiding one eyebrow. Skeptical was as close as she could come to describing his expression. Had she hurt him so badly that he couldn’t believe it possible for her to spend time with sick children? That shamed her. Hurt her, too. But, she had no right to feel anything but sorry for all she’d put him through.
“I hate to sound redundant, but with two jobs, helping out around here, and putting in time at the hospital, when do you sleep?”
Now that he knew she couldn’t repay him—yet—why was he still here? To make her regret losing him even more than she already did?
Maybe a change of subject would put them both at ease. “Saw you on TV the other day.” He’d looked so handsome. So at ease, smiling for the camera, making small talk with the show’s host. Thankfully, she’d been alone in the family room, so no one had seen her drop onto the couch cushions and blubber into a throw pillow. “You’re a natural.”
“It’s a different way to make a living, I’ll admit, but since Mom’s stroke—”
“What! Stroke? When did that happen? How bad was it? Is she all right?”
He held up a hand. “Whoa. Easy, girl.” Grinning, he said, “She’s fine. Happened a couple months back. Doc says she should be fine as long as she takes her meds, exercises, eats smart.”
She felt selfish. Self-centered. Childish. Because in all the time she’d been away, her only contact with Colette had been when she placed a check into a carefully chosen greeting card that featured lilacs, Colette’s favorite flowers. According to her bank statement, the check had been cashed almost immediately, eliminating the need to call and make sure Jase’s mom had received the payment. It had been a relief, but sad, too, because she and Colette had once been almost as close as mother and daughter. One more loss to chalk up to the addiction...
“You’ll be happy to know that Mom is as spry and spunky as ever.”
Lillie inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank goodness. I suppose I should give her a call. Or better still, stop by with a little get-well gift.”
As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Some people, her counselor had stressed, would never fully get over what she’d done to them.
Yet again, she wondered why he’d stopped by. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body, so it surely hadn’t really been to torment her...
“Mom and Dad are out back, cleaning up after the construction crew. The Sams and Matt and Molly and the twins are back there, too. I’m sure they’d—”
“I didn’t come here to see them.”
Despite the heat of the day, a chill snaked up her spine. She’d already made it clear that, unless he was willing to take a partial payment, she couldn’t reimburse him.
“Your...” Lillie couldn’t bring herself to say girlfriend. “Whitney seems nice.” She’s pretty, too. And tall.
Lips narrowed, Jase stared at the ground between his feet. Lillie had seen that grim look only once before, on the night he’d listed every way and every time she’d let him down. It took months to figure out why, in addition to anger and disappointment, guilt had flashed in his eyes that night: exercising tough love had been hard on him. But why did he look that way now, at the mention of Whitney?
His right hand shot out, startling her.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you again. Just didn’t want this guy getting all tangled up in your curls.”
Oh, he scared her, all right. But not because he held a daddy longlegs by one spindly appendage.
