Jed pushed himself up on his elbows as Belle and Tess scampered from his bed. Tess cast him a longing look as she reached the doorway. He lifted his hand in a wave. “I’ll see you later, bug, okay?”
The girls disappeared, their tiny feet thundering on the stairs. Kim smiled. “Sorry they woke you. I didn’t think to tell them not to bother you. They’re used to running riot with Max when he sleeps in here. I’m surprised they didn’t draw on your face.”
“It’s okay,” Jed said absently, though he noted the mention of the mysterious Uncle Max again. He had yet to meet Kim’s brother. “I’ve woken up to worse.”
Kim’s smile faded. “I’m sure. Listen, Nick’s gone for the day. He won’t be back until tonight. Do you need anything? Coffee? Breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t eat dinner.”
Jed shook his head and eased himself upright. He was still trying to figure Kim out. She was attractive, warm and bright, but there was more to her than that—a subtle hardness, and a quick temper that simmered below the surface. Her gentle smile now belied the sharp tone he’d heard from her the night before when Nick had fetched himself yet another beer. She was beauty and grace with the mouth of a sailor, and he couldn’t decide if Nick had struck gold or simply gotten what he deserved.
Kim took the hint and left him alone. He grabbed his last set of clean clothes and made his way to the bathroom, studiously avoiding the mirror. Being mothered was strange. Sara Cooper had died more than twenty years ago. Jed could recall the rare sound of her laughter like he’d heard it yesterday, but her face was dim and faded. Some days that bothered him. Most days it didn’t.
He limped back to his bedroom and froze in the doorway. Something was different. It took him a moment to spot the department store bag and accompanying note on the bed. He ignored the bag and picked up the torn notebook page.
Jed,
I picked up a few things for you. I wasn’t sure how prepared you’d be for the weather here. I had to guess your size, so let me know if I need to return anything.
Kim
“SO,YOUdon’t like pussy and you don’t drink beer. Remind me why I’m friends with you?”
Jed tore his gaze from the condensation dripping down his untouched soda. Dan Valesco had been his buddy since he was six years old, and he’d never minced his words. “Fuck you.”
Dan shrugged his broad shoulders with an easy grin. “Aw, you totally would, and who knows? If you’d gotten me drunk enough in high school, I probably would have let you. You know I liked to experiment back then.”
Jed scoffed. Fourteen years hadn’t changed Dan much. He was still the same giant, Ecuadoran idiot he’d always been. Not that Jed minded the good-natured ribbing. Brutal humor had been his companion for so long that Dan’s lack of filter was familiar—comforting, almost—even after the inevitable rehash of the night Jed had bailed on him all those years ago.
Dredging up the past had been harder than Jed had expected. The night he’d left Ashton was something he’d spent more than a decade believing he’d come to terms with. In the dimly lit Portland bar, he suddenly found he was wrong, especially when Dan wouldn’t let it drop.
“So your dad kicked you to the curb? All because Nick told him you were gay?”
Jed made a noncommittal noise, tempering the surge of unwelcome anger in his veins. “I guess.”
“Dude, that fucking sucks. Why didn’t you come to my folks? You know they would’ve taken you in.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly that night. I was halfway to Georgia before it dawned on me that I didn’t have enough money to come back.”
“You know you could’ve joined the Army in Portland, right? You didn’t have to run so far.”
Jed shrugged. “I wanted to jump out of planes.”
Dan opened his mouth and then shut it again.
An apology festered on the tip of Jed’s tongue, but he bit it back. Recent years had been hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the lifetime he’d spent away from home. He felt at ease with Dan, their friendship as familiar as a pair of old shoes, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever going to be enough, because no matter which way he turned, he knew he didn’t belong in Ashton.
“I can’t believe Nick turned on you. That skinny-ass kid idolized you.”
“Hmm?” In his morose haze, Jed had almost forgotten Dan was there. “Yeah, well. He idolized Frank more. He didn’t know any better.”
Dan’s expression was skeptical. “Your pops has been gone from this town for years. No offense, but your bro’s a bit of a tool. Maybe he always was.”
It was a sentiment Jed had heard before, and for a moment he felt like he’d morphed back in time to a conversation he had long ago in a seedy Turkish bar. His vision darkened as he stared at Dan. The similarities between him and Paul were obvious—both larger than life and louder than hell—but it was something he’d never considered before. Dan was his past, and Paul his present. He supposed they’d switched roles now.
“J?”