The Will(162)

“From an infection from a knife wound?” she went on.

“That’s what’s in his file.”

“Because he was too much of a badass to get it stitched up and get a course of antibiotics,” she kept on.

Jake said nothing, though he did it fighting back a smile seeing as she used the word “badass.”

“That’s whacked, Jake,” she declared.

At that, he grinned.

“Not sure your father’s insanity was ever in question, Slick.”

She shook her head like she couldn’t believe all she’d heard but did it turning and nestling into him, putting her head on his chest and training her eyes to the sea.

Jake’s arms went tighter.

“He’s not getting Lavender House,” she whispered.

“No, he isn’t, baby,” he whispered back.

“I don’t care if it takes every penny I have, he’s not getting anything that was Gran’s.” She was still whispering but her tone was fierce. And hearing it, he finally felt relief.

“It won’t take every penny, Josie. But this will go away,” he promised.

She nodded, her cheek moving against his chest, before she declared, “Boston Stone is not a toad. He’s an *.”

Jake grinned again and pulled her closer.

“Got that right, Slick,” he agreed.

“And that Baginski woman is odious,” she kept at it.

He said nothing.

“What’s her problem anyway?” she asked with mild curiosity and in a way she didn’t expect an answer. Then again, she couldn’t know Jake actually had one.

Shit.

So she had it all, something at this point she needed to have, he had to give it to her.

So he did.

“I regrettably f*cked her about ten years ago and didn’t go back for seconds,” Jake shared cautiously and she jerked in his arms so she could look up at him again.

But he was relieved when she asked, “That’s it?”

“Don’t know if that’s it. Just know you gotta know that history.”

Her brows drew together. “What did you see in her?”

“Ten years ago she wasn’t in a perpetually bad mood, nor did she wear that shit on her face.”

She studied him a moment before she announced the God’s honest truth, “Women are very strange.”

He decided not to agree verbally.

Her eyes held his and she declared, “So, at least with her, I have the best revenge I can have. I have you.”

He stared at her as his body locked.

Fuck him, but he f*cking loved her.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice rough.

“Good,” she stated haughtily and settled in again, curving her arms around him this time. “Alas, she’ll never learn that I have you for precisely the reasons she doesn’t, that she’s odious and ridiculous and I’m not. It’s my experience that the men worth having dislike odious and ridiculous.”

Her words forced his body to release since he was fighting back laughter when he confirmed, “Nope, men don’t like either of those.”

“So she’s sad really,” she concluded.

“Yep,” he agreed.

She fell silent.

He stared at the top of her head, her cheek against his chest, felt her weight bearing into him, her arms around him and having all that, it was whacked, but he knew he wanted to sit there with her forever.

But that shit couldn’t happen and he told her why.

“Kids are worried about you, honey. If you’re good, you gotta get down there and show them that.”

Not surprisingly, instantly she moved.

Pulling out of his arms then grabbing his hand and pulling them both to their feet, she said, “Of course. I should have thought of that.”

She started to pull him to the stairs but he stopped her, calling, “Babe?”

She looked up at him.

“You good?” he asked.

Her answer was, “I have you.”

He liked that answer but he had to be sure and he communicated this by saying, “Babe.”

She got him and he knew this when she reiterated with emphasis, “Yes, Jake, of course I’m good. I have you.”

Oh yes.

Fuck yes.

He liked that answer.

Enough to use her hand in his to pull her to him, wrap his free arm around her and bend his head to give her a kiss.

She took it. She liked it. He knew it when she slid her hands around his shoulders and pressed deep.

When he lifted his head, she looked into his eyes and said quietly, “Thank you for taking care of me, darling.”

“My job, baby,” he replied.

“I’m glad you’re good at it,” she returned.

Oh yes.

Fuck yes.

He was in love with her.

Gone.

Deep.

He’d lost his heart. He knew she had it in a way he hoped like f*ck she never wanted to give it back.

He didn’t tell her that. That would be for a time she’d want to remember it, he’d want to remember it, not a night that turned a fantastic weekend to shit.

So instead, he bent in and brushed his mouth to hers then took her to his kids.

*

Fuck.