Real Men Knit(7)

Jesse frowned. “I don’t know where. The house fridge is full of leftovers from the repast too. That’s why this other stuff is still out down here. We can try and stuff it or split it between all of us when the guys get here. Maybe Lucas can just take it to the firehouse. He’s there most of the time anyway.”

Kerry nodded again. “That’s a good idea. I’ll start dividing it up. But I’m afraid we’ll need more containers. Mrs. Hamilton was probably only the beginning. You can expect plenty more where this came from. Knowing the neighborhood ladies, they will want to keep you well fed.” She gave his chest and bare stomach a look then that was deep and penetrating and had his abs quivering on their own. “Besides, Mama Joy wouldn’t want you losing weight.”

Jesse shook his head and groaned. “No, she wouldn’t.” He sighed and looked again at all the food. “Mama Joy was definitely loved.”

“That she was.” Her voice cracked again.

Oh hell. Why did he go and say that? Jesse looked down and caught the tears that had sprung to Kerry’s eyes.

Shit. “I’m sorry, Ker—” he started, going to reach for her.

But she put her hand up, halting his words before they could continue out of his mouth. “No. Don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be here as a help to you and your brothers. Not blubbering like some fool and adding to your troubles.” She quickly swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, pushing up her glasses and looking so darned cute and vulnerable. The image reminded him of catching her crying in the loft of the shop so many years ago, way back when they were in junior high.

“You’re not a fool.” He lowered his voice. “And you’re never trouble. You’re family, Kerry. And you loved Mama Joy just as much as any of us. Just as much as she loved you.”

There was a loud hiccup sound as her tears came on full force. “Well, damn, Jes. You went and did it now,” she said, putting down her mug and reaching for a paper towel.

As if on autopilot, Jesse stepped forward and took her into his arms. Her shoulders and back were awkward and rigid, but within seconds she softened, and he felt the delicate quaking of her muscles against his body as she sucked in uneven breaths between sobs. He held her there. Taking in the warmth of her softly twisted braids against his bare arms. Soothed by the light smell of lavender and musk as her twists tickled his nose as she heaved and let her sorrow out. Jesse swallowed down hard, blinking back his own tears as he fought to calm his hard-pounding heart.

He would not cry today. Jesse reminded himself of his vow once again. He had told himself yesterday that he’d shed enough tears and he was done. Mama Joy would want it that way. She wasn’t one to go in for a lot of sorrow. She’d have told him to have his moment and then move on. To think of her from now on with only joy and happiness in his heart. And that is what he would do. Once he got his damned mush of a heart in line to listen.

But then a damned lump formed in Jesse’s throat, and it completely pissed him off. He didn’t have a right to have a lump. He didn’t have a right to any more tears or wasted time. He’d done his crying and carrying on at the funeral yesterday, and that was enough. It was clear as day from the looks and comments from his brothers this past week and from all the neighborhood friends and acquaintances who had shown up: He was a fuckup, and as per his usual he’d fucked up and was a disappointment to Mama Joy right till the very end. Not even being there when she’d needed him at that critical moment. Wasting time and not living up to his potential, whatever that was. How could he continue to disappoint her now that she was gone?

Sure, it was a pattern for him, but it was one that he was now determined to break.

Mama Joy was the only one who’d ever seen potential in him, and she’d indulged him from the very beginning. Doing what she called “cultivating his creative spirit,” all the while working herself into an early grave. Truth was, he was nothing more than a selfish bastard, taking what he could and never giving back in return. Not even when she clearly needed him to help more around the shop and relieve her of some of her heavy burden.

Kerry sniffled loudly and Jesse swallowed down hard on the determined lump, willing it away while ignoring the wayward tear that slipped from the corner of his eye as he held her and gained strength from her pain. He mentally paused and took the moment in. Yes, he was a bastard, in the kitchen in his drawers holding this woman and once again letting someone else do the hard work for him. He couldn’t even grieve right for Mama Joy, so instead he just stood there and let Kerry do the hard work for him while he held on for all he was worth. But Kerry did feel hella good. Maybe he’d just hold her a little longer . . .

“What the hell, Jes? This is a goddamned business, not your bedroom. Mama Joy is in the ground one day and you’re seducing a woman in your underwear in her back kitchen!”

Fuck. Damian’s voice pierced Jesse’s ears like a hard two-by-four to the skull. Leave it to his annoying older brother to make his entrance at exactly the wrong time.





3




Oh, it’s just you, Kerry.”

Kerry stepped away from Jesse’s dangerously comforting embrace and turned. Damian’s voice was as bland and cold as his gaze.

Yeah, it’s just me. Gee thanks, Damian. Dismissive much? But she didn’t let her thoughts out of her head and off her tongue. What did it matter anyway? How many times over the years had she heard those words, or some version of them, from one of the Strong brothers?