Surprise or guilt or something else widens Mom’s eyes. “Why would you think I know anything about it?”
I shrug as casually as can be even though suspicion pounds in my chest. “You seem nervous.”
“Son, what exactly are you accusing your mother of?” Dad frowns, having no idea what I’m talking about. He was at the grill and too far away to hear the beginning of our conversation.
I raise my hands. “I’m not accusing her of anything. I was just wondering what she might know about it. She could have overheard someone talking about leaving a note at my office.” I wouldn’t put it past a couple of her friends who she’s not super close with to be responsible for the message.
They’re not the type to commit bodily harm, but they are the sort to leave the note to scare Jess away.
Mom lifts her shoulders and her chin. “I’m nervous because my son is dating a woman who was incarcerated with dangerous offenders.”
“Mom!” The word explodes from Kellan, sharp and to the point. Garrett and Lucas appear dumbfounded—either because of what Mom said about the woman they consider a friend or because of Kellan’s reaction.
Jess and Simone look like they’d rather be anywhere but here.
And Dad…Dad’s expression is that of a man who has stepped into a parallel universe and has no idea what’s going on. “Honey, Savannah Townsend wasn’t guilty of her husband’s murder. And Troy’s a big boy. You don’t have to worry about him. He can take care of himself.”
She throws him a death glare. “He’s still my baby!”
Dad wisely reverses a step. “He’s a grown man.”
“I’m also standing right here,” I say. “Maybe Jess and I should leave till you come to your senses, Mom. I won’t have you accusing my girlfriend of something she’s not guilty of. She’s already gone through enough without you hurting her.”
Mom stiffens on the other side of the table, her spine straightening.
“N-no.” The word stutters from Jess, unshed tears roughening her voice. “You stay, Troy. Bailey and I will leave. I don’t want to come between you and your family.” Her face is so pale and drawn. I want to hold her and take her away from here and punch a tree all at the same time.
“You don’t have to leave. Either of you. I…I just need time to…” Mom’s tone isn’t unkind, but it’s also not warm and friendly. She swallows. “I just need time to get used to this.” She points to Jess and me, her finger lingering on Jess longer than necessary.
“No, wedohave to leave,” I tell Mom. The droop of Jess’s shoulders and the shine to her eyes warn me she’s barely keeping herself in one piece. I need to get her out of here.
My hand still holding Jess’s, I lead her and the dogs to the side gate. No one tries to convince us to stay, and I’m grateful for that.
I get Jess and the dogs into the truck. Butterscotch jumps into the back. Bailey joins Jess in the front.
Jess looks at me from the front passenger seat, her eyelashes glittering with tears, her body shaking. “You should stay, Troy.” One tear breaks loose and trails down her cheek. Followed by another. She hiccups a sob, her weary smile failing to mask her devastation.
I gather her in my arms, her head in the crook of my neck, and I hold her as she crumples into me under the weight of her sobs. “I’ve got you, Jess. I will always have you,” I murmur against her temple, causing a wisp of hair behind her ear to flutter.
I have no idea if my parents’ neighbors are wondering what’s going on as I stand beside my truck, a crying woman in my arms, outside Mom and Dad’s house. I don’t give a crap either way. The only thing I care about is the woman in my arms, in my heart, in my soul.
Butterscotch and Bailey whimper, ever sensitive to Jess’s pain.
It takes a few minutes before Jess’s sobbing is under control. I remain standing on the passenger side of the truck the entire time, holding her.
She sits upright and smiles at me, the curve of her lips a gentle up-kick. “I’m okay now. I’m ready to go home.”
I wipe my thumbs under her eyes, drying away the tears. “I have somewhere else in mind first.” I buckle her seat belt and jog to the driver’s side of my truck.
I grab some burgers and fries at the local drive-thru, drive to Windermere Lake, and park near the entrance to the hiking trail.
We sit at an empty picnic table and eat the food, then walk along the trail, holding hands. Butterscotch and Bailey lead the way, sniffing the ground and tugging on their leashes. Jess and I don’t talk. We let nature—the birds calling from the trees, the warm breeze, the pine scent—fill us with peace.
The trail widens at one point, forming a small clearing. The lake is on one side of us, the forest on the other. Dirt and dried needles and leaves make up the ground beneath our feet.
I stop walking and pull my phone from my pocket. I tie the dogs’ leashes to the trunk of a tall skinny tree and select a Pushing Limits song from one of my playlists. I hit Play and put the phone on a large boulder close to the water.
I pull Jess to me and twirl her to the ballad, doing whatever it takes to put the smile back on her face.
