Jack woke to the sound of a buzz saw in the kitchen. At least, that’s what the noise felt like after however many shots he’d thrown back the night before. But when he managed to open one eye and peel his half-naked body from the leather couch, he realized—thank God—that what he’d heard was coffee beans grinding.
“You look like shit,” Walker said as he leaned against the counter. Jack couldn’t tell if that was his brother’s norm or if he did it for balance. He guessed it was a little of both.
“You seen a mirror lately?” Jack asked. “What the hell was in that bottle last night, by the way?”
Shot glasses still lined the table. He vaguely remembered getting back from his ride and Jenna sitting him and his brothers down at the table with a takeout pizza and a direct order that they bond. Apparently bonding meant getting shitfaced and not remembering when or how he’d ended up on the couch.
“Where’s Jenna?” he asked.
Walker squinted as if he was searching for the answer, but after a few seconds he shrugged. “She took your truck. Said something about buying feed for her chickens, which she’d planned on doing when she thought she was going to be home yesterday. Said you could run her home once you were awake and could see straight.”
His brother leaned his forearms on the counter and dropped his head to rest as well.
“Because even the morning after you don’t. That right?” How long would he be able to chalk Walker’s drinking up to age and immaturity? He was twenty-five already. As much as he feared for his own hereditary instincts, it scared him more to see it in one of his brothers. But Walker wasn’t one to talk, nor to listen or give a shit about what his big brother feared. The only way to get through to him was to use his own language.
Walker’s head rose lazily, but there was serious intent in his steely gaze. The coffee finished brewing, and he poured himself a cup. “There’s no sugar,” he said.
“I’ll take it black.” Jack stumbled toward the kitchen wearing nothing but his jeans from last night. He scratched the back of his head, felt his hair standing out at strange angles as he opened the cabinet that still held the mugs. “Jesus,” he said, pulling out the one with a collage of the three brothers when they were kids. Before. He remembered his father, in a drunken outburst, backhanding the mug off the counter. “The handle had broken off,” he said, more to himself than to his brother. “Exploded into a bunch of pieces. I was there. I saw it.”
But even as he inspected the mug, he knew he wasn’t looking at a replica. He ran his finger over the handle, felt the slight ridges where the separated ceramic had been glued back together. But to look at it—you’d never know. Unless you knew.
“He fixed some of the things he broke,” Walker said. And Jack heard in his brother’s voice what neither of them would even think about saying. Because damn if the three of them weren’t still just as broken as they had been when they were removed from their father’s care and sent to live with Jenna.
“Who’s hungry?”
Their aunt’s question sing-songed through the front door as she burst into the house—all smiles and sunshine, a welcome interruption to wherever the conversation was veering between him and Walker. He never knew how she did it. Even when she’d been barely twenty-five, without parents of her own, and found herself the legal ward of three teenage boys, she’d rarely faltered.
The two men turned toward her, and Jack was sure he smelled…bacon.
Walker, suddenly steady on his feet after one sip of coffee, strode in her direction. “Bring on the grease,” he said, and she held out a bag that was soaked through with it.
“There’s a farmer’s market midway between my place and yours. Turns out this guy—new to the area. He’s opening a little diner out that direction soon, and he just so happens to be looking for an egg supplier.”
Walker tore open the bag and pulled out one of three wrapped sandwiches. He moaned as his teeth sank into the first bite. “Damn. I love a good buttermilk biscuit,” he said, his mouth full of food. “What the hell is a diner owner doing at a farmer’s market?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added, pointing at her with what was left of his nearly demolished sandwich.
She shrugged. “He likes to buy fresh ingredients from the locals.” She playfully batted her lashes. “Like me,” she continued. “And he’s trying to advertise his new place. So he rents a booth and sells samples of his upcoming menu.”
Jack poured his coffee, only realizing after the fact that he wished he’d switched mugs. He slid into a chair at the kitchen table and unwrapped his own sandwich.
“I don’t remember this,” he said, knocking on the tabletop. “If Jack Senior had to mortgage the property for that damned vineyard, what the hell was he doing buying furniture?”
Jenna grinned and bounced her hip against Walker’s. “He made it.”
Walker coughed and looked away as Jack’s eyes met his.
“You made the table?” Jack laughed, and Jenna narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait. You’re serious?” Jack had never seen his younger brother show interest in anything besides women or booze. The weight that had been pressing on his chest since he’d entered the town limits got heavier. Apparently he’d missed more than he’d realized.
Walker’s eyes remained focused on his sandwich as he shrugged. “I did an apprenticeship with one of the Callahan brothers. Ain’t made anything worth its salt other than that table, though.”
“It’s good.” Jack ran his hand along the wood grain. “Real good.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Walker said, filling his mouth with food again, effectively ending that little tidbit of brotherly bonding. And since he wasn’t here to push, Jack let it slide.
“Where’s Luke?” Jack asked, realizing they were one short. Then he finally tore into his biscuit and let out his own moan. “Christ, this is good.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Luke’s out riding bareback like a maniac, I assume for some rodeo coming up. And you’re welcome, by the way.”
Both men grunted out a thanks while they continued to eat. Jenna poured herself some coffee and then opened the fridge.
“Shit. Y’all don’t even have milk. Tell me you know your way through a supermarket, Jackson, because I’m not sure this refrigerator ever gets fully stocked if I’m not stopping by with groceries.”
She took a sip of her black coffee and grimaced. “Hell, Walker. I bet a spoon would stand up in this sludge.”
Walker grunted. “Keeps the hair on my chest.”
She set her mug down on the table and blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, I don’t need or want any hair on mine, so I’ll pass. I had a cup at the market, anyway. With a new friend. I don’t really need a second.”
Jack’s eyes darted up to meet hers. “With the egg guy?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” Her cheeks flamed.
Both men stood in unison, their chairs skidding across the wood floor.
“What’s this asshole’s name?” Walker asked.
“What do you know about him other than he’s opening some diner? Did you get the name of it? He’s not coming to your place to pick up the eggs, is he?”
She burst out laughing. “Is that a euphemism? Picking up eggs?”
Jack crossed his arms and Walker popped the rest of his breakfast in his mouth, staring her down as he chewed.
“You,” she said, pointing at Walker. “I appreciate the attempt at big-brotherly protection, but I got more than a decade on you. So, simmer down, cowboy.”
Walker scowled.
Jack cleared his throat.
“And you,” she said, turning her gaze to her oldest nephew. “Put on a damn shirt if you want me to take you seriously.”
He glanced down at his bare torso and shrugged. “I can still big brother you without a shirt.”
She scoffed. “I was already reading Judy Blume by the time you were born.”
Walker’s brows rose. “The sex one? Go, Jenna.”
Now she groaned. “God. No, Walker. I was eight. And how do you even know about Forever?”
He shrugged. “There was this girl in high school I wanted to make out with. She wanted to read me Judy Blume. We compromised.”
Jenna shook her head. “You’re impossible. And I was talking about Superfudge.”
“Is that a euphemism?” he added.
She backhanded him on the shoulder. “I don’t even know what that would mean!” she cried.
Jack tried to bite back his laughter, but it was useless. Plus, this felt good, he and Walker giving Jenna shit about dating like they used to do when they were in high school. Their situation had never been a normal one, but they’d found their rhythm back then, and it felt like maybe they were finding it again now.
Jenna swiped the third sandwich from the table and then held up her hands in defeat. “I’m going to go check on Luke. Bring him his breakfast before you two animals devour it.”
She spun on her heel and headed back toward the door.
“What’s his name?” Jack called after her.
“Or do we call him Egg Man?” Walker added.
Using her free hand, she answered them with one finger.
“Egg Man it is!” Walker shouted before the screen door slammed behind her.
Jack lifted his coffee mug from the table and held it out toward his brother. “Well done,” he said.
Walker gave him a sly grin and held up his own mug. “You’re still an asshole.”
Jack leaned back against the counter. “And you’re still a dick.” He sipped his coffee.
“They let you say shit like that in your fancy lawyer office?”
He laughed. “Is that what you think San Diego is? Look around you, brother. You grew up in the middle of wine country. You’re one-third owner of a vineyard. You’re so goddamn fancy, I’m finally feeling underdressed without a shirt.”
“Screw you,” Walker said, eyes peering over the top of his mug.
“Screw you right back.” And with that he strode back to the couch to retrieve his shirt. He threw it over his head and then padded toward the front door where he hoped his boots were, found them, and pulled them on. “I’m gonna grab my shit from the truck, shower, and take Jenna home. You can spend the rest of your morning wrapping your head around ‘fancy’ because we’re gonna have to keep that vineyard.”
Regardless of how much he’d had to drink the night before, he hadn’t forgotten the simple math of the whole situation. The mortgage Jack Senior took out on the ranch was more than he guessed their piece of wine country was worth—at least not while it wasn’t thriving. If they could get it up and running, then maybe they could turn a profit—or at the very least break even.
He’d stay long enough to see that his brothers were headed in the right direction. And maybe he’d check in on Egg Man as well. Not that Jenna needed looking after, but still. He felt like he should take care of her—of all of them—while he was here. It wouldn’t make up for the years he’d been gone, but it would count for something. Wouldn’t it? Luke and this rodeo bullshit. Walker and the furniture making—and drinking. Visits to Jenna’s throughout the years had been tense, but he guessed now they’d all been on their best behaviors, not wanting to rock the boat. But there was no pretense now. He’d come back to more than he’d expected and had lost more than he’d anticipated being gone so long. He’d bridge the gap between him and his brothers. Jenna as well. He had to.
Jack hefted his bag out of the truck’s cab and rolled his head along his shoulders. He wouldn’t survive another night on that couch, but he wasn’t sure how well he’d sleep in his old room, either. No. He was sure. Because he was a shitty sleeper no matter where he was. Unless, apparently, multiple shots of tequila were involved, and he knew better than to make that a habit. Despite the name they shared, he wasn’t his father…yet.
That’s what he’d been telling himself for ten years. Soon, he might even believe it.
“You were never planning on going home yesterday, were you?” Jack glanced toward Jenna in the passenger seat.
She shrugged. “I knew y’all would need to reconnect, but I also knew you wouldn’t do it without a little push. So…I pushed.”
He shook his head as he pulled onto her narrow street. “You think you know me that well, huh?” But she was right. That was his way—jumping right into the fray when it came to his brothers. But then he’d taught himself to pull back as well, to maintain just enough distance so it wouldn’t hurt too much to leave.
“You’ve been pretty quiet this whole ride,” she added. “Figured you needed some time to think. But we’re almost home, and I got some things to say. So I’m gonna say them, okay?”
He kept his eyes on the road now and simply nodded. He’d been grateful for the silence. The least he could do was let her say her piece.
“I’ve never once in all these years told you what to do. Hell, I barely knew you anymore when you came to stay with me, and then I only had you under my roof for the better part of a year before you took off for college.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, jaw tight. He wasn’t sure what was coming, but her tone told him it wasn’t anything he wanted to hear.
“And I’m proud of you. Real proud. Your brothers are, too.”
He let out a breath. “I think you’re mistaking pride for resentment.”
She crossed her arms and angled herself to face him. He still maintained eye contact with the road ahead of him, but he could feel her gaze now, boring into him.
“Now what on earth ever gave you the idea those boys…” She shook her head. “I guess they’re grown men now, aren’t they? Jack, how can you think they did anything but look up to you, especially after what you did for them? What you’ve done for them.”
“Don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “Jenna—don’t. I’m not a martyr. I was a dumbass kid who thought…Shit. I don’t know what the hell I thought.” But he always knew that as long as he was on the receiving end of his father’s fist—or sometimes boot—his brothers weren’t. All it had taken was one time. A thirteen-year-old Walker trying to pull what he’d thought was an empty bottle from what he’d also thought was a sleeping Jack Senior’s hand. But passed out drunk was worse than asleep, because when he woke with a start—dazed and disoriented—Jack Senior backhanded his youngest son across the cheek so hard it knocked him to the ground.
Afterward, Walker locked himself in his room for two days. Even missed school. Jack Senior had miraculously stayed clean for a full week after that, promising it was the last time anything of the sort would happen. Of course it wasn’t. Jack and his brothers had gotten used to those kinds of promises—and them not sticking.
Walker was never the same after that. None of them were. But of the three of them, he had been the one who was still a kid—who’d still had that spark of hope. And just like that it was extinguished.
Jack pulled into Jenna’s drive and was grateful for the timing, hoping it would end this conversation, or at least send it in another direction. The truck rolled to a stop, but she made no move to open her door. Instead she kept her gaze fixed on him.
“What are you still runnin’ from, Jack? You can be a lawyer anywhere. If you just love San Diego to pieces and can’t bear leaving, tell me. I’ll believe you. Otherwise, when’s it gonna be time to come home?”
He felt the muscle in his jaw tick, ran his fingers through his overgrown hair. He’d always thought the time would be now, when Jack Senior was gone and he could finally start over. But he’d built a life in San Diego—one safe from the memories that he could only keep at bay with physical distance. And now he had a chance to get even farther—as far from here as he could go without leaving the country.
“Stay ’til the vineyard’s up and running,” she added. “See this thing through, and then go back to San Diego.”
Although they’d stopped, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “It’s not that simple. You know it isn’t. It could take months. Years, even, depending on what rudimentary knowledge of farming we have from…what? Living with our aunt for a few months?”
“Years,” she corrected him, blowing out a breath that sounded like exasperation. “Luke and Walker were with me for years. And yes. I know it’s not that simple, but if you get someone out there who knows grapes, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”
He could sense there was more coming, but she trailed off and turned toward the car door.
Now? She was getting out now that she’d baited him with that tone? Well, he wasn’t biting.
She sat there, hand on the lever and facing the window, but she still didn’t move.
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll bite. What about getting someone out there who knows grapes?”
She shrugged and glanced at him over her shoulder. “You don’t think I missed you sneaking out after curfew back then. Did you?” She laughed. “Look, I know things were a mess when you left. But this isn’t one of your whirlwind visits where you’re in and out in forty-eight hours. Do we still have to pretend the Ellis girl doesn’t exist?”
There it was, the real reason for his silence. Yesterday he’d driven from San Diego to the ranch in a daze. Call it lack of sleep or lack of connection after being gone for so long, but he’d been able to keep his emotional distance on that drive. Yet one night with his brothers and Jenna had flipped a switch, and now he was here. Walking distance from the Ellis place and their vineyard…and what he’d done to prove that he wasn’t good for her.
“You knew about her,” he said. Not a question but a realization. Jenna had tiptoed around him in those early months after he’d left the ranch in an ambulance, the last time he’d been there before yesterday. He’d come home from the hospital—to Jenna’s home, in an unfamiliar town—with a broken tibia, two fractured ribs, and no desire to talk about his feelings despite the few visits they’d forced on him with the hospital psychologist. Somewhere, deep down, he’d known it was for his own good, but all he’d wanted to do back then was forget.
And then there was Ava Ellis, the girl who’d chipped away at his foundation until she finally broke through. Shit. He could see her now talking to the assistant in the school office, those long, cinnamon waves framing her snow-white, freckled skin.
“I’m going to trig, too,” she’d said, lingering as he waited for his schedule. Nothing like starting a new high school six months before graduation. “I could walk you there.”
He remembered glancing down at the plaster that had peeked out from his jeans.
“I can walk fine,” he’d said like an asshole. But to be fair, he’d felt entitled to a little bit of asshole at the time. He’d paid his dues.
“Right,” she’d said, brows raised. “I can see that. Just thought you might want to know the way.” Then she’d stalked out the office door, her head held high—and had waited for him a few paces down the hall.
That was all he’d needed—her not taking his bullshit—for him to realize maybe he didn’t want to dish it out. At least not to her.
“Of course I knew,” Jenna said, bringing him back to the present. Finally she opened her door and hopped out of the truck.
He followed her, grabbing her bag from the pickup’s bed and hoisting out the sack of chicken feed as well. He set the second on the ground.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked. “About me sneaking out? Ignoring any semblance of a curfew you tried to impose? About any of the shit I pulled? I couldn’t have made things easy for you.”
Jenna turned to him and reached for her bag, and he handed it over.
“Your mama and me, we lost our daddy when I barely knew my ABCs. I lost her when I was just learning how to be a grown-up and then our own mama a few years later. I might have been twenty-five when you boys came to me, but I was an orphan. I needed all of you as much as you needed me. And if sneaking out ’til all hours of the night with the Ellis girl made you happy, then it made me happy, too.” She reached a hand for his cheek, and Jack realized how long it had been since he’d felt this surge of affection for anyone. “I didn’t have a clue how to be a parent, but I hope I did right by you boys.” A tear escaped down her cheek, and she laughed. “I need to stop saying ‘boys.’ You’re almost thirty, for crying out loud.”
He bent his head and kissed the top of hers. “Not for another eighteen months,” he reminded her. “And you did more than right by us, Jenna. You kept us a family. I would have—the state could have—” He broke off. “I don’t know if I ever really thanked you.”
She shook her head. “You did what you had to do to keep you and your brothers together.”
“So did you,” he added. “Thank you for that.”
She shrugged and swiped at her damp eyes. “Then I guess we’re even. Or something.”
“I guess we are.”
“You coming inside?” she asked.
Like a magnet, his head turned in the direction of the Ellis Vineyard, only a mile walk from where he stood. He squinted in the sunlight. After all that had happened his last week in town, he’d never forgotten that red hair—or the freckles on her shoulders and across her nose. He’d also never forgotten that his only possible reason for coming back had told him they were nothing more than a fling when he’d been foolish enough to think it was love.
“She’s not there anymore,” Jenna added.
He felt a sudden jolt of something that he couldn’t name and turned back toward his aunt. He kept his voice even. “Did they sell the property?”
“No. But she and her mama left the area soon after Thanksgiving your first year at school. I’ve seen her since then—Mrs. Ellis. But not her.”
He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. Not wanting to risk running into her, he hadn’t come home for any holidays that first year. The joke was on him, he guessed. She’d left, too.
“Ava,” he said. “I’m not gonna lose my shit over a name.”
Those three letters tasted bittersweet on his lips. He’d gotten past that last terrible night, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten over it. Or her. Wasn’t that the saying? You never get over your first love? He’d always thought she would stay close to home. She’d been accepted to Cal Poly for art. He remembered that. He remembered too much.
Where the hell had she gone?
High school felt like a lifetime ago. He wasn’t that kid anymore, the one who let a beautiful girl make him believe in a future that held something better. Still, there was that jolt of something again, of knowing she wasn’t there. It was like missing something he’d never had, if that was even possible.
“You never said anything before,” he said. “I have been back.”
“I can count on one hand how many times.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“And,” she added, “you never asked.”
He scratched at the back of his neck and let out a breath. “I wasn’t asking now. So why say something after all these years?”
Jenna crossed her arms. “Because you never looked wistful like that before, staring down the road and all. This is what I mean,” she said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Maybe you still need some closure. Maybe if you found her and talked about that night…”
“Stop,” he said, cutting her off. She flinched. He hadn’t meant for the word to sound so harsh, but enough was enough. “That relationship wrecked me, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I was a goddamn mess to start, and then I went and put a kid in the hospital. I don’t blame her for ending things, but it doesn’t mean I took it well. Especially after—”
“After all the terrible stuff you had to deal with for years,” she interrupted. “You made a mistake, Jack. A big one. But that one night doesn’t define you.”
It did for the one person who’d seen past the rumors only for him to prove them true.
This was only a fling, Jack. It was always going to end.
Jesus, that was ten years ago. Enough already.
“I gotta head back. We have a shitload of work to do in the house before I figure out this vineyard thing. Will we see you later this week?”
She sighed but smiled at him. “As soon as my car’s all fixed up. Had a little fender bender last week. That’s why Luke picked me up.”
“What the hell? You never said—” He started checking her over for signs of injury, but she waved him off.
He used to call to check in once a week. Then the calls moved to once a month. And soon, distance made this part of his life seem a million miles away instead of only a few hundred. Now the guilt hit him in small, unexpected waves every time he realized something he’d missed.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
She was. He believed her. But who was around on a regular basis to make sure?
“The egg man—he a good guy?” he asked.
She blushed a little and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think he is. But maybe I need to ask him out before he buys my eggs. Avoid any conflict of interest.”
Jack laughed. “Is that a euphemism?”
She rolled her eyes and reached for the bag of feed before he could hand it to her. Then she started backing up the drive. “Welcome home, Jack.” She turned and headed toward the house.
“Jenna?” he said.
She stopped, but kept her back to him as if she could tell she didn’t want to hear what was coming next.
“They’re making me a partner,” he said. “My firm…in their New York office.”
She spun on her heel, and he braced himself for an earful. But Jenna’s gaze was soft, gentle even.
“Congratulations, Jack.”
And then she made her way to the front door.
He watched to make sure she got in okay. It didn’t matter that she was older, that she’d lived on her own before he and his brothers came or had continued to do so after they’d all left. He was going to start making up for the years he’d been away. For however long he had, he’d be the brother—or nephew—he should have been…even if he was picking up and leaving again.