Unbeloved (Undeniable #4)(70)

Grabbing the bill of his ball cap, Jase pulled it from his head, ran a hand through his messy hair, and gave his daughter a small smile.

Looking bewildered, Maribelle glanced back down at her customers, said a few words that Jase couldn’t make out, and began making her way toward him. He watched as she walked, her steps unsure and small, and remembered instead the little girl who used to come barreling down the driveway when he’d come home from a reserves weekend or a long run with the club.

Stopping in front of him, she tucked her pen into the base of her ponytail and shoved her notepad into the front of her apron.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly. “And why are you wearing that?” She gestured to his coveralls.

“Been workin’ at Pop’s a few blocks thataway,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Doin’ custom work and shit.”

Maribelle’s caramel-colored eyes grew even wider. “Why?” she whispered. “I mean, what? Do you live here now?”

Clutching his hat in front of him, Jase twisted the mesh material, beginning to feel uneasy. He could almost envision the very loud, very public scene she would make if the knowledge that he’d moved to her town rubbed her the wrong way. And he didn’t want to get her fired because of him. If that happened, it would just be one more thing he would have to try to make right, and the list was already too long as it was.

So he changed tactics.

“Left the club,” he said, keeping his voice low and hoping she’d take the hint and do the same. “Moved here to try and make shit right.”

“You left the club,” she repeated dumbly, staring blankly up at him. “You left the club you’ve been a part of your entire life, that you’ve always chosen above everything else, even your own family?”

Jase’s knuckles cracked as the grip on his hat tightened. Yeah, he was a crappy dad. And he deserved every single piece of shit she was going to fling his way.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, “but I ain’t been there my whole life, there was something I did before the club, somethin’ I was, that was a f*ck of a lot more important than a club. Took me a while to figure it out, Belle, but I was a father first and I wanna be your father again.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the small space between them, during which Jase could practically feel the rejection that was sure to come, when suddenly Maribelle’s gaze dropped to the floor, her lips twisting and flattening. He knew that look. That was the look his little girl made when she was trying not to cry.

“Belle,” he said softly. “I didn’t come here to upset you. Just wanted you to know how much I love you and your sisters. Just wanted a chance to be a family again.”

“You just expect me to forgive you?” she whispered, still blinking. A drop fell from her lowered eyelashes and onto the floor near her sneakers. “Just because you quit the club and moved to my town, I’m just supposed to forget? Just like that?”

“No,” he said, wishing he could pull her into a hug, wishing that things were simple again, that his girls were still little and all their hurts easily fixed with just a little bit of love.

“I’m not expectin’ anything,” he said. “Was just maybe hopin’ for the chance to try . . .”

When she didn’t respond, Jase took her silence as his cue to leave. Putting his cap back on, he pulled the bill down low and cleared his throat.

“I’ll leave you alone now,” he whispered. “You ever want to talk, I’m living on Forest Street. Got that little white house on the corner.”

He turned to go, feeling sick and suffocated by the disappointment quickly filling him, when he felt a light touch on his bicep.

“Wait,” Maribelle said.

Turning back around, he found her eyes on him, filled with unshed tears. “I have a break coming up,” she said, swallowing hard.

Jase couldn’t believe it, that she was actually letting him in, and despite himself, he smiled at her. A real, goddamn, genuine f*cking smile.

“Great,” he said, his voice cracking. “’Cause your old man would love to buy you a cup of joe.”

Despite her tears, Maribelle snorted. “You sound like Grandpa.”

As his daughter walked off, Jase finished stomping off the snow from his boots before heading to the back of the café to find a quiet place to sit. While he waited for Maribelle to join him, he couldn’t help but think that sounding like his old man, or even being like his old man, something he’d never thought of as a compliment before, was just about the very best thing he’d ever heard.

A cup of coffee appeared in front of him as Maribelle took the seat opposite him. Placing her hands in her lap, she glanced up at him.

“So,” she said softly. “What should we talk about?”

Reaching for his coffee, wrapping his had around the warm mug and feeling the same sort of warmth beginning to spread within him, Jase shrugged.

“Everything,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

The road to redemption might be damn hard, but in the end—if you reached the end—his father was right. It was worth it.

Maribelle was worth it.

Funny how her birth was the reason he’d started running, but she ended up being the reason he’d stopped.

Life was really f*cking funny that way.