Wrong to Need You Page 6

  “See you then.”

  “Yes. See you then.” Three words she’d used to say so easily to Jackson. Words she hadn’t said to him in forever.

  He moved away to the freezer, surprisingly soundless on his feet for such a big man. “Go on. I got this.”

  She couldn’t doubt his competency. Not now. “I’m still mad at you,” she felt compelled to say. She was mad. Mad and annoyed and still a little distrustful and attracted. And part of her did actually want to give him a hug.

  But mostly she was mad.

  He didn’t turn around. “You can be mad at me so long as you let me help you. I’m okay with that.”

  Chapter 5

  Jackson is a Kane.

  Jackson turned off the main road, into the quiet residential streets of Sadia’s neighborhood, only half his attention on where he was going. The rest of his mind was on the words that had been looping in his head for over twenty-four hours.

  He probably shouldn’t have gone and eavesdropped on Sadia and Harriet’s conversation, but he hadn’t exactly had to press himself up against the office door to hear it. Their raised voices had carried to the hallway, where he stood in bemusement, listening to this woman he had wronged defend him.

  Paul would have never put an outsider above his own family.

  He’d gone back to the kitchen at that point. No need to hear anything more about what Paul would or wouldn’t have done when it came to him.

  Jackson had never cared for Harriet, even when he was a kid, standing at Rick’s side, cracking eggs under the crotchety old man’s eagle eyes. She’d always had a vague disdain for him, though she’d been plenty nice to Paul.

  That wasn’t unusual. Lots of people had liked Paul and steered clear of him. He didn’t know how to make his body and face harmless through smiles and jokes.

  Criminal.

  A child in a front yard stopped bouncing a ball and stared at him. He should have rented a nice, inconspicuous sedan instead of the motorcycle. He’d gotten used to driving bikes all over the world, but here the metal and chrome was too loud and obvious. A car would have given him a barrier between him and other people.

  He deliberately lowered his shoulders. Harriet’s cousin had been the witness who had claimed to see him the night of the fire. Not everyone would react like that to him. What he’d told Ariel had been true. It had been quiet whispers, not screams, not demands he leave, that had driven him from this place.

  His mother had once told him when he was a toddler he’d break down sobbing when someone looked at him for too long. It had been a joke in their family, but his aversion to attention was no joke to Jackson.

  Even interacting with that child, Darrell, and his equally young sister who had come in and worked yesterday and today had been difficult. They hadn’t looked at him with anything but curiosity, but he knew that they knew.

  Jackson slowed. At least Harriet’s blowup had gotten him the one thing he’d wanted—Sadia had let him stay. Not only that, but she’d taken the whole day off from the café. He’d heard her calling Darrell a few times, presumably to check in, but whatever the boy had told her must have calmed her down. She’d texted Jackson once, but it had only been her address, which he already knew, thanks to his light stalking.

  He pulled up in front of a tidy brick home. It was a far cry from the old Kane estate or even the upper-class home Sadia had grown up in, but it was a pretty nice place. Tidy, well taken care of, probably a few bedrooms, not too far from his aunt’s home.

  It was, no doubt, a terrible idea to be here. He could practically hear Ariel in his ear, tsking over him. His brain had short-circuited when Sadia had made her offer to let him stay at her place, the neural pathway that fed pleasure and pain to his mind getting jumbled up.

  You had no choice. It wasn’t like you could take her money.

  It hadn’t been because he wanted to be close to her for as long as possible. No, not at all.

  He pulled off his helmet and swung off the bike. The detached garage was set a little behind the house, out of view of the street. Good. The more privacy he had, the better.

  A metal staircase led upstairs to a second story. The door there was wide open, some bluesy tune spilling out into the air, telling him Sadia was probably still readying the place for his arrival. She’d always been worried about guests, even when she was young. He’d never seen her house or her room in anything but perfect condition.

  He slowed as he walked past Sadia’s SUV. He glanced inside and stopped at the toys spread over the back seat.

  He’d overheard Darrell telling his sister that Kareem had recovered from his illness today, which was good. But he’d tried not to think too hard about the fact he would meet the boy soon.

  “Kareem,” a young girl suddenly yelled over the fence from the neighbor’s yard, making him flinch. “Catch the ball.” A childish giggle floated over the fence.

  He felt a little creepy as he, well, creeped to the fence and peered over it. He caught a glimpse of a small child with silky black hair and he jerked back, flattening his back against the wood like he’d been caught doing something illicit.

  Dear Jackson, the baby’s here! He is so beautiful. I’m attaching a picture. We named him Kareem, but his middle name is Robert. My mother and Maile almost got into a fight at the hospital arguing over who he looks like more. I think he looks like a turtle. Or a gnome.

  Livvy came home for a day to see him. Can you come too? I want you to meet your nephew, Jackson.

  Jackson’s eye twitched. When he’d gotten that email six years ago, he’d been sitting in a crappy Internet café in Berlin. He’d stared at the flickering monitor, unable to decipher how he felt.

  Sadia’s happiness had been evident not only in the glowing smile in the attached picture, featuring a little swaddled blob laying on her chest, but also in her words, and what she hadn’t said.

  He’d been able to read between the lines of Sadia’s every email, the same way he’d always been able to read between her words when they spoke.

  Sadia and Paul had eloped about a month or so after he’d left town. From that moment until Kareem’s birth four years later, she hadn’t mentioned her family, not once.

  Jackson leaned against the fence and shoved his hands in his pockets. Christ. This kid’s birth had been one of the few times he’d actually been tempted to come home. See his brother, his mother.

  See the child who had lit up Sadia’s face and managed to bridge whatever differences and issues Sadia and her family had dealt with. If the baby could mend bridges in Sadia’s family . . . maybe Kareem could have mended the wounds in Jackson’s?

  Except children weren’t magical and nobody could guarantee that kind of outcome. So instead of booking a flight, he’d gotten up and left that crappy German café and gone back to his rented flat.

  Jackson pressed his hand against the weathered fence, letting the rough wood press against his flesh. He was a big man, so physically intimidating people avoided him. But here he was, contemplating coming face-to-face with this child, and all he knew was fear.

  Paul’s son. His nephew. The kid might have heard stories about him from his parents or in school. He’d maybe have an idea in his head already of who Jackson was.

  This was uncharted territory, and there were no guarantees as to what would happen, how either of them would feel, what they would say. He inhaled, then exhaled, long and slow. In a minute, he’d go find Sadia, and soon, he’d probably meet this child. But first, he needed a second to himself.

  Sadia ran the vacuum cleaner back and forth over the rug, the mindless movement calming her exhausted brain. She’d been up most of the night with Kareem throwing up. Just when she’d thought she should call one of her older sisters, he’d calmed, and they’d fallen asleep around dawn curled up in his bed.

  He’d woken up almost completely recovered a few hours later, which was fantastic, but also meant their Saturday could continue as originally planned. They’d skipped soccer, but Ka
reem had been well enough for his violin lesson. Midway through that, Tani had called and asked if Sadia could bring Kareem over. Since they hadn’t seen him much lately, Tani had pointedly added.

  Sadia battled back the vague feeling of guilt. It was funny Paul’s mother and her mother weren’t better friends. They were both able to make her feel guilty for no reason.

  Tani saw Kareem a lot. Since Paul had died Sadia had been overly careful to make sure his mother and aunt didn’t feel slighted or like they weren’t a part of her child’s life. Sadia thought she was doing a good job of it, but then Tani went and said something like that, and . . .

  Sadia blew out a breath. It wasn’t a big deal. The only reason she was obsessing over her former mother-in-law was because it distracted her from the unpleasant task she was currently engaged in.

  She glanced around the room. A few weeks after Paul’s funeral, she’d packed up most of his stuff from the master bedroom and the rest of the house in large boxes, save for small mementos and photos and whatever she’d felt comfortable giving away. Strangely enough, she’d found herself unable to throw away the sympathy cards she’d gotten after his death, so those had gotten packed too. She’d stacked the boxes neatly against the wall in this apartment. She didn’t miss the significance of her putting his belongings in here.

  She and Paul had furnished this room simply, with only a bed and a dresser and a nightstand. The attached bathroom was equally simple and barren. They’d used it as a guest room now and again, for her sisters and some friends who had visited from out of town.

  If Paul had lived, though, he might be living in this apartment right now.

  Their marriage had ended not with raised voices, but with silences and increasing distance. The night before he’d died, the eve marking their anniversary, they’d sat at the dining table they’d bought together and Paul had given her an ultimatum.

  We can’t live like this anymore, Sadia. We have to get a divorce.

  She blinked hard, feeling as betrayed and blindsided today as she had then. Oh, she’d known their marriage had been finished for a while. But no one else had known about that, not her family or his, or any of their friends. Paul had been in the kitchen every morning before Kareem woke up, there to hug his son and make him breakfast before kissing her on the cheek and heading to work. Only the two of them had known those kisses were air kisses.

  Sometimes childhood sweethearts could get married young and develop together. And sometimes they didn’t want to grow together anymore. Sadia hadn’t been happy about that, but she’d come to terms with it.

  A divorce would have made it public. Everyone would know their marriage was over. Everyone would know she’d failed.

  Her fingers tightened on the handle of the vacuum and she pressed the thing down harder on the carpet, leaving streaks. Paul had tried to reassure her. I’ll stay above the garage for a while. Make it a smooth transition for Kareem.

  She hadn’t been able to verbalize her issues, that Kareem was only one of her concerns. When she’d sat there silent, cradling a cooling cup of tea, he’d sighed, kissed her on the forehead and retreated to the office and the couch he’d slept on there. The next morning, she’d discovered he’d left before she woke up, to go hiking on the trail they’d hiked on their anniversaries. The same trail they’d hiked after they’d eloped and toasted being young and in love and together.

  He’d never come home.

  She ran the back of her hand over her nose. She pushed the vacuum over the corner where she’d stacked all of Paul’s boxes that were now in the garage, making sure that the carpet held no trace of the boxes’ imprints. She had to get Kareem ready for dinner at her family’s and get Jackson settled in here. She had no time for thoughts of Paul. Sadia walked the vacuum backward and right into something solid.

  Someone solid.

  All the hairs on her arms stood up, a bolt of electricity running through her. She stumbled forward in her jump away, the cord of the vacuum catching on her feet. It tangled around her ankle and she had that split second of horror that came right before a person face planted.

  She braced for mortifying impact, but it never came. An arm snaked around her waist, plucking her completely off the floor for a second like she was a child. But she didn’t feel like a child when she was brought back against a strong body.

  Wrong place, wrong time, wrong guy’s strong body, her brain screamed.

  Oh but he smelled so right, a combination of sugar and fruit and cinnamon and whatever else he’d baked today. Did all chefs smell delicious? Had she ever even noticed what Jackson smelled like when they were young?

  She looked down at the smooth, strong arm wrapped around her middle. Her gaze traced it to the hand holding her steady, fingers pressing into her waist.

  Oh god. That hand. “Uh, I’m not going to fall now,” she squeaked.

  His fingers released her one by one, and then his arm was gone, but her middle was hot, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was an unseasonably warm day out. She flicked off the vacuum and turned, careful with where she stepped now. “You surprised me.”

  He gazed down at her. He looked as good as he smelled, in dark denim jeans and another long-sleeved t-shirt, blue this time, his battered leather jacket thrown over it. How did he look so bright-eyed when he’d been up since the break of dawn?

  “I’m sorry. I knocked, but you didn’t hear me, I guess.”

  She fiddled with her T-shirt collar. She’d barely had time to shower and throw on fresh clothes today, but without Jia here today she probably looked as haggard as she felt.

  One touch and you’re fretting over your looks? Calm yourself. Jackson of all people doesn’t care what you look like.

  “I was trying to tidy up around here.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I did. It was dusty and dirty. This place has been closed up for a while.”

  Jackson walked to the bed and dropped his duffel on it. She busied herself with winding up the cord to the vacuum. Her hormones were clearly on the fritz and didn’t need a visual of him standing next to the bed.

  He shrugged off his jacket and tossed that on the mattress as well. “This is cozy.”

  “I hope it’s okay.”

  “Nicer than a lot of places I’ve stayed in.” He walked to the bathroom and stuck his head inside. He braced himself on the door frame, his biceps bunching up.

  What places have you stayed in?

  Not her business, and not like he’d tell her. She blurted out the first words that popped into her mind to distract them both. “I saw your mom and Aunt Maile this morning.”

  His back tensed. “Did you tell them I was here?”

  “No.” She’d considered it, but despite being their in-law, Sadia had decided it wasn’t her place. Maile had been cheerful and Tani her regular distant self, so Sadia assumed they either didn’t know or didn’t want to talk to her about it.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me.” She’d been too tired to handle the inevitable emotions and questions. They would probably find out, and then they’d be annoyed at her for not telling them, but she’d deal with that then. “You should tell them you’re here.”

  He didn’t respond to that, merely moved away from the bathroom, keeping his gaze averted.

  Not her circus, not her monkeys. “Maile said Livvy is doing okay.” She almost added if you care, but thought that might be a little too bitter. “She doesn’t have great reception wherever she’s at, but she’s checking in with Maile and Tani.”

  He paced to the nightstand and ran his finger over the wooden surface. “And where is she exactly?”

  Her eyes narrowed. Jackson’s tone was a little too casual. “Not sure.”

  “Nearby?”

  Ah, yeah. She recognized this enough times from Paul’s pouting when Livvy had started dating Nicholas. Her husband had glared at Nicholas every time they’d had a double date.

  Sadia had thought it cu
te then. Maybe it was because she had sisters, or because she was simply too old and tired, but now she found this male posturing absurd. “If she wanted you to know her coordinates, she’d tell you. Or me.”

  “I only want to make sure Nicholas is being good to her.”

  “What will you do if he’s not?”

  He straightened. “Take care of him.”

  “You can’t beat up Nicholas.”

  He turned around. “I don’t see why not. If ever a man deserved a beating, it’s him.”

  Sadia couldn’t count the number of times she’d threatened to stab Nicholas over the years for dumping Livvy, but she shook her head and made sure her frown was forbidding. “No. They’re together and we’ll be happy for Livvy.” Until she heard differently, at least. She’d keep her stabbing knife handy.

  His mouth settled into what looked suspiciously like a sulk, but he grunted. In agreement, she supposed. She needed a grunting-to-English dictionary for Jackson.

  “I parked my bike on the street. Is that okay?”

  She rolled with the change of subject. “It’s fine, but I can make some room in the garage.”

  “No, don’t worry.”

  Her phone beeped a reminder. “I have to head out—”

  A patter of feet on the staircase interrupted her, and a small whirlwind burst through the door. “Mom!”

  Kareem came barreling through the front door and launched himself at Sadia. She caught him automatically, staggering back a step, into the vacuum. He was getting so big. He’d be tall, like his daddy.

  She smoothed his silky black hair back from his round face. “Hey, baby.”

  “There’s a motorcycle outside, whose is it—” He craned his head around her. “Hi.”

  Her heart quickened. She brought Kareem around to face his uncle. “Kareem, this is your daddy’s brother, your uncle Jackson.”

  Jackson was utterly still, his face expressionless, black eyes locked on his nephew.

  She forced herself to smile. “Uncle Jackson, this is Kareem.”