Watch Me Fall(42)

Jennifer’s face brightened considerably, looking so much like her daughter. “I’m glad to hear that. We like him a lot, Jared. She’s so happy. I don’t think a couple ever made less sense on paper, but together…” She gave a “what are you gonna do?” shrug. “They make sense.”

“Hey, you can’t beat that.”

“But what about you? Have you met someone?”

“Might just be I have.” Yeah, he still couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.

“Anyone I might know?”

“Macy knows her. I’m trying to keep it on the down-low right now.”

Now she was totally intrigued, but that was the way he left it, because Daryl Rodgers came in at that moment eager to show him his new workshop. “It’s a twenty-four by thirty-six,” Macy’s dad said happily as the two of them went out the back door. It was really beginning to heat up outside, and it would be twice as hot in that big metal shop, so Jared was glad he still had the remnants of his iced tea in his hand.

“Do you want to run it off the house breaker or the pole?”

“I don’t think we have the open space in the house.” Daryl pointed to the pole standing thirty or so feet away. “Pole’s just right there. Might as well do that. I’ll have my welder and table saw in there. And an air conditioner too. Lighting, of course. Those are the main things.”

“All right.” The two stepped up into the building—yep, sweltering hot—as Daryl showed him where he wanted his equipment placed, and Jared looked around appreciatively at the construction. He had a workshop of his own, but not nearly this big. “I think I need one of these. Did you do it all yourself?”

Daryl chuckled, wiping sweat off his brow under the bill of his ball cap. “Yeah. Tell you what, there’ve been days I might have said you could have it.” He gave Jared an inquisitive look. “Did Jennifer talk your ear off?”

“Nah. She gave me tea.” Everyone knew Macy’s mom’s sweet tea was famous.

“Did she tell you, or did you already know?”

Jared didn’t have to ask his meaning. “She told me.”

“She’s been worried how you would take it.” The man had never pulled any punches, unlike his wife, but what the hell did they think? That he would go screaming into madness? Cry on their shoulders? Hatch a plot to kidnap Macy from the altar?

“If she’s found the one for her, then God bless her,” Jared said, waving his free hand dismissively. “Y’all don’t have to worry about me.” I’m not made of fucking fine china, Jesus.

“That’s what I keep telling Jen. And since you’re probably sick as hell of hearing about it, when do you think we can get this done, and, more important, what’s it gonna cost me?”

Thankful for the swift change of gears, Jared drained the rest of his tea and grabbed his tape measure off his belt to get back to work. He wasn’t thinking about Macy and what could have been. He was only wondering what Starla was doing and counting the minutes until he could call her, but warring with that need was the echo of his dad’s earlier words, casting a pall over the lingering glow from last night. Nothing could ever be simple, could it?

Before he could climb into his truck an hour later, his phone rang from his pocket—Shelly. No doubt calling to heap her own brand of bullshit on top of the pile already sitting on his head. When he answered, her words were as short as his half-barked greeting had been. “The girls have a softball game tonight at six.”

Fuck. He’d forgotten, as if he didn’t already feel like shit. Softening his tone, he said, “All right, I’ll be there.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on? They’re asking why they can’t come to your house anymore, and I don’t know what to tell them, Jared, but I refuse to be the bad guy in this. You need to explain it to them.”

“I’ll have a talk with them tonight.” He cranked his truck and let the blessed air-conditioning blow directly in his face, cooling his thoughts for what was coming next. “It’s wrong of me to keep things from you. I’m sorry. What’s going on, Shell, is that Starla has a stalker, and this guy makes yours look like friggin’ Mary Poppins. He’s probably the guy who attacked Brian Ross, and she’s staying with me until he’s caught. My idea. I thought it best if the girls stay away while she’s there. It isn’t permanent. Soon as the cops get him, she’ll go back home and it’ll all be over.”

Shelly was silent for a long time, longer than he liked, but just as he began to think she was going to hang up on him, she said, “You never can resist a damsel in distress, can you?”

“It has nothing to—” He bit off the words, and the back of his head met the headrest. Protesting would do no good; it never had, and besides, she had too much evidence to back up her claim. Let her say her piece and she’d be done. She didn’t say anything, though. The song on the radio ended and another began, and all he could hear over their connection was her breathing and, finally, her sigh.

“Thanks for telling me the truth.” Her words were halting, careful. “I just wish you had from the start. Ashley’s all right, but Mimi…”

Mia was Daddy’s girl. “I know. I’ll do something special for them. Maybe after their game tonight, I’ll take them out to dinner.”

“I guess you’ll be bringing Starla?”

Jared chewed on that for a minute. It probably wasn’t something Starla would want or feel comfortable doing, but if she did, why not? “Would you have any objections?”

“I guess not. They talk about her so much, I know they’d be happy to see her.”

“Thanks, Shelly. Again, I’m sorry.” He drew a breath. “I know this hurts you.”

She injected that familiar brave steel into her voice, the tone he’d heard time and again during their arguments when she was trying to hide her pain. “I’m done being hurt. Now I only want to keep my kids from being hurt.”

He heard the silent by you she added to the end of both those statements. He chose to ignore them. “Me too.”





Chapter Twenty-one



If someone had told her even a couple of months back that she would be attending a pixie softball game tonight, Starla would have bet them a million dollars they were full of shit. As she strolled into the town softball complex at Jared’s side, she would have owed someone a million fucking dollars.

Kids were everywhere, running, rolling down the hills that sloped toward the playing fields, careening madly down the sidewalks on kick scooters. Parents were everywhere too, milling about and chatting before the games began. The air smelled of hot dogs and cheese sauce, and damn, she was hungry. Stress had been catching up with her, wrecking her appetite for most of the day. After breakfast and Jared’s departure, she had gone to the hospital and visited with Candace. One of her regulars had texted her just after noon asking for a cover-up, so she’d met the girl at Dermamania and spent a welcome couple of hours working—although being there in Brian’s domain had been painful. It felt wrong somehow. Financial need had won out over sentiment, though. She needed all the money she could get.

Before she knew it, five p.m. had come and gone and she hadn’t so much as eaten lunch. Now it would be at least another hour and a half before she could eat. Little girls ran about in their brightly colored uniforms with their wild knee-high socks and adorable ponytails, excited for the games to start. Starla wanted to recoil in horror at the sight, but she kept her head high.

She’d been here before; she used to do this. But as one of those excited girls, not alongside one of the parental units. And, she began to notice, she and Jared were getting looks.

For perhaps the first time, reality slapped her in the face. In the cocoon of Jared’s safe house, nestled in his safe arms, nothing could hurt her. But he was popular, his name and family were well-known in town, and these—these softball moms in their sparkly team T-shirts—were his people.

They weren’t hers, and it showed in the way some of them looked her up and down as she walked at his side. Some of those gazes were blatantly hostile, some merely curious. But she felt each and every one. She was probably overreacting. Most people didn’t pay her much attention at all, but whenever someone stopped to chat with Jared, she almost always got a once-over. Usually from the wives.

He always introduced her as his good friend—she wanted to really shock one of these bitches and clarify it was the mutually shared orgasms that bound them. And the murderous psycho who was chasing her, of course. But she wouldn’t be back if she started alienating people.

Did she want to come back?

“There’s Shelly and the girls,” Jared said, and all her internal organs seemed to freeze up at once. She’d known the moment was approaching—coming face-to-face with the dreaded ex—but she damn sure hadn’t been looking forward to it.

He led her to the field on the left, to the dugout on the far side where a gaggle of neon-green-suited girls were clustered around their coach. Immediately, Starla picked out Ashley and Mia from the group and grinned. They were adorable in matching pink headbands with their names written on the front. Jared tapped the cyclone fence a couple of times to get the attention of the brunette woman standing in the dugout watching the team with her hands on her hips, and she turned and smiled, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Made it after all.” Her voice was clear and honey sweet.